Crown Prince Sells Medicine

“In any costly circumstance, we must proceed.”

The rebel leader, Javillon, wore a smile. His eyes shimmered with a yearning for talent. It was also the gaze of a strategist who spotted a window of opportunity.

“A saint capable of healing with a mere touch.”

He found it genuinely unbelievable. He hadn’t entertained the thought that the rumor could be entirely accurate.

‘Rumors are typically embellished, after all.’

The assertion of exceptional medical skills was likely true. Nevertheless, the idea that he could heal through mere touch had to be a blatant exaggeration. Such fantastical occurrences couldn’t possibly be real. There had to be luck, coincidence, or some form of deception involved.

But that wasn’t the crux of the matter.

‘What truly matters is how people perceive this saint.’

It didn’t matter if it was an exaggerated bluff. Even if it was a scam, that was acceptable. What counted was that people believed it. That held significance. The fact that people revered and looked up to the saint was of the utmost importance.

‘So, I must take that individual under my wing.’

That alone would lead to success.

Everything would undergo a transformation.

Javillon tightened his fist, reaffirming his conviction. He saw this as an opportunity. Yes, an opportunity to reverse the lackluster situation.

‘King Merovingian. He cannot continue to rule as is. The same goes for Adelin, the daughter of that cunning old figure. We cannot leave a kingdom and its people under the sway of such a feeble lineage, especially when they send their royalty as hostages to the Magentano Empire over minor disputes. Ah, indeed.’

Anbouaz is far from weak. His Angbuian people can achieve much more. The reason they haven’t fully exerted their power is that the feeble lineage has held onto the throne.

Unworthy individuals.

A disgrace to the kingdom and its people.

They must be overthrown.

Only then will the kingdom and its people prosper, deserving their rightful place and demonstrating their superiority for generations.

He must lay the foundation. He must be the catalyst. But it won’t be easy. The resistance from the kingdom’s army is much stronger than anticipated. The opposition from the old aristocrats, who cling to their power, is also not insignificant. All because his cause seems insufficient.

…Crack!

A chilling sound escaped from Javillon’s clenched teeth.

‘I am not merely dreaming of a rebellion. I am a person who sacrifices and strives to put this kingdom and its people on a firmer footing. Yet those foolish individuals don’t understand this truth. They are only pursuing small, immediate gains, rights, and stability.’

Such narrow-minded kin.

He felt frustration thinking of the pathetic, outdated people. It was bitterly regrettable that the world didn’t grasp his ideals and pure intentions.

He needed a broader justification. Or a symbol to attract the masses. Indeed, he desperately needed someone like that saint.

‘If someone who receives such reverence and respect aligns with me… If they openly support me… The situation will undoubtedly change.’

He was certain.

The eyes of the uninformed public would widen. Finally, they would take interest in the grand ideals he held. Eventually, they would become enthusiastic and rush to join the revolutionary army.

Then the attitudes of the old aristocrats would also shift. Because they were a group sensitive to advantages. The moment they realized that this side had overwhelming support from the people, they would willingly change allegiances and join this side.

‘Then I can undoubtedly turn the tide of this war. I will attain victory.’

He could reshape the future of the kingdom. The great people would fully enjoy their rightful status.

For eternity.

Forever.

If it’s for that?

He would do anything.

‘Even if I have to sacrifice my own life. Or even if I have to yield the throne to that saint.’

He didn’t necessarily have to hold power himself.

‘If there’s someone who can strengthen this kingdom and its people, even if it’s the devil, I would willingly relinquish the throne. I want to win the civil war for that. I want to overthrow the unworthy and weak, and open the doors of prosperity for the kingdom and the people I hold dear.’

“…So, no matter what happens, mobilize all resources to bring that person in,” Javillon declared, his eyes filled with a profound patriotic fervor.

♣ ♣ ♣

“…So, are you assuring me of the finest treatment imaginable if I align with the rebels?”

“That’s correct.”

“Heh. Interesting.”

It was just after dinner. Raciel had barely finished his soup when he returned to his own solitary tent, letting out a wry chuckle.

He couldn’t believe it.

‘Just when I thought I could finally relax, what’s this?’

It was absurd. He had spent a typical day attending to wounded soldiers and instructing visiting military officers on making tinctures. After such a demanding day, it was time to unwind.

But then came an unexpected and audacious visit from a rebel spy. Even more surprising was that the spy turned out to be one of the dispatched military officers. Raciel squinted at the spy with his slightly narrowed, shrewd eyes.

“Hey?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Didn’t you like the dinner menu?”

“No.”

“Then, did you forget to take your prescribed medication, or did you take medication you weren’t supposed to?”

“Neither of those.”

“Then what was that outrageous proposal you just made?”

He sought clarification.

The military officer, or rather, the spy, responded without hesitation or a change in expression.

“It’s no jest. It’s a formal proposition. The kingdom’s army is mired in corruption, casting a shadow over this country’s future. So, join us. Pledge allegiance to my lord. In return, you will receive the highest honor and glory. I understand that this may seem sudden and shocking, but this is in strict accordance with my lord’s wishes.”

“Your lord? Javillon?”

“Yes.”

“…You’re being remarkably brazen. What if I were to shout right now that there’s a rebel spy here?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Why?”

“If you raise the alarm, I have two options remaining. One is to take you as a hostage and attempt an escape, but that’s not an option. My lord has specifically ordered that you be treated as an esteemed guest. So, only one choice remains for me.”

“And what’s that?”

“To willingly submit to arrest.”

“So you’d allow yourself to be captured and face execution?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Heh.”

Raciel clicked his tongue. From the tone of the conversation, it was clear that this was no jest.

The spy continued.

“It’s not just me as a spy, in any case. Even if I were executed, someone else would take up the mission and approach you with an offer. This will persist until my lord’s desire to have you under his command wanes.”

“Isn’t that excessively persistent?”

“That’s not my concern.”

“…”

Raciel fell silent. He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

To join the rebels, or rather, the self-proclaimed revolutionaries. To align with Javillon, the leader of the revolutionaries. And in return, receive the best possible treatment. The proposition sounded as though he had been neglecting his duties of caring for snails.

‘Tch. My reputation must have soared too high.’

Suddenly, he recalled an incident caused by Shandre, a military officer who had opposed him a few days ago. Shandre had performed a reckless bloodletting on a soldier recovering from surgery, sparking a commotion. Raciel had barely managed to save the soldier’s life. Shandre had been imprisoned, and Raciel himself had gained a reputation as a saint. The rumor had taken on a somewhat burdensome and grandiose tone, suggesting that he could heal people with a simple touch.

It had to be because of that rumor. That’s why the rebel leader was so interested in him.

‘Hmm.’

Once he figured it out, he could regain his composure. He managed to quell his surprise at this sudden proposal. Thanks to that, the gears in his mind started turning.

Anticipated benefits and drawbacks. Possible scenarios. Even a suitable exit strategy. In the end, the conclusion came with a smile…

‘…After careful consideration, this isn’t a bad proposition, is it?’

No, it was a good proposition.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that way.

To begin with, it seemed like there was little chance of him suffering any loss. In fact, depending on how it was leveraged, there was a chance it could be advantageous. He even glimpsed a feast of benefits unfolding before him.

Raciel glanced at the spy. The calculations were done. What now? It was time for clarification.

“So, what can you guarantee me if I join the rebels?”

“…Excuse me?”

“What can you actually offer me?”

“Well, you see…”

“You just asked me to join, that you’d treat me the best if I joined your side. So, why aren’t you mentioning any specific terms? Don’t you know how to negotiate? This person doesn’t even grasp the basics.”

“…”

What’s going on?

What is the Saint saying right now?

The spy was engulfed in confusion. To be honest, he had come prepared to die today. His adversary was a military officer known as the Saint. He had never expected such a renowned figure to consider switching sides based on a single proposal. No, he hadn’t even dared to hope for it.

He probably saw himself as a disposable pawn. His lord likely intended to gauge the Saint’s reaction through him. Depending on that reaction, they would devise and execute the actual plan to win him over. That’s what he had assumed.

In other words, he had expected the Saint to swiftly expose him as a spy, leading to his arrest by the royal army and inevitable execution. But now… the Saint was displaying an unexpected(?) reaction!

He was flustered.

‘…’

What should he say in response?

He hadn’t prepared specific terms because he had presumed rejection was imminent. In fact, he hadn’t even received such instructions. He was simply told to promise the best treatment and honor, and nothing more.

‘What should I say?’

Due to Raciel’s abrupt change of pace, the spy found himself in a state of complete mental paralysis. Meanwhile, Raciel’s audacious words continued to flow, much like a serene stream in the deep mountains.

“Sigh. If you’re going to make a sale, huh? Coming empty-handed like this isn’t the way to go, my friend. Do you think this is my first time being approached? I’m not expecting a fruit basket, but at least bring some cold beve—”

“…”

“And listen. Since you’ve brought up the subject, don’t just stand there looking flabbergasted. Don’t you have any attractive terms to discuss?”

“Terms, you say?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Can I?”

“You’re the one who initiated the proposal, aren’t you?”

“But I’m just a spy following orders…”

“That’s precisely why I’m saying, let’s hear the terms. Be specific, will you?”

“…”

This Saint must be out of his mind.

The spy was starting to feel a sense of dread.

(To be Continued)

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