Reincarnation of a Hunter Chapter 25.1 - Each One’s Interest (3)

I hurriedly walked with the Marquis of Catalonia to the reception room.

There, knights covered in dust were drinking tea.

Upon seeing me and the Marquis, the knights abruptly stood up.

“Just sit. You must have ridden hard to get here.”

“We’ve brought a letter from Countess Karin Rhône-Alpes,.”

One of the knights held out a sealed scroll, and I immediately broke the seal to read it.

 

[To the Esteemed Baron Eugene Marcel, 

 

The proposal you made greatly pleased both Count Rhône-Alpes, and Count Ferrand. We will soon send the surplus grain stored in our territory to the port of Marcel.

—With deep respect, Karin Rhône-Alpes,.]

 

I handed the letter to the Marquis of Catalonia, who had seemed anxious, and he too was overjoyed.

“Hahaha! Viscount Marseille! Thanks to you, such wonderful news has come!”

“Were you very concerned about the food supply?”

“Indeed. Those damned pirates of Cagliari keep raiding grain transport ships, so I’ve always been on edge.”

 

If the navy escorts the transport ships, the cost becomes greater than the cargo itself—transport expenses skyrocket.

But now, Catalonia can obtain cheaper wheat from nearby instead of expensive grain shipped from the distant southern continent. The shorter distance makes it easier to escort the ships and reduces costs.

With my proposal securing a stable food supply route, it’s only natural for a lord to be delighted.

The food security of the people is the top priority.

 

“If you can confirm that the iron ore trade will also be tariff-free, we can begin transactions immediately, even before the formal agreement is signed.”

The agreement would stipulate two tariff-free trades: wheat to Catalonia and iron ore to Marseille.

“Haha! Why drag it out? Let’s draft the agreement today.”

This man is being way too hasty, isn’t he?

 

Right now, the wheat trade seems much more significant, so even if they’re celebrating like this, they might regret it later.

Well, they’ll figure it out.

 

Soon, I instructed the attendants to prepare the signing ceremony for the agreement, and tables began to be set up in the banquet hall.

The Marquis of Catalonia and I held the signing ceremony for the ‘Catalonia-Marseille Mutual Free Trade Agreement’ in front of many guests.

As the two of us signed and stamped the document, the guests applauded loudly. We shook hands, exchanging pleasantries.

 

“May God’s blessings be upon the lands of Marseille.”

“I look forward to remaining eternal friends with Catalonia.”

 

Then, out of nowhere, the Marquis lamented the failed marriage proposal.

“Tsk. I should hurry up and have a daughter. I’ll have one next year, so let’s form a marriage alliance.”

 

Suddenly, it looked like I’d be married to a newborn next year.

In cases like this, we’d just hold the wedding ceremony first. Of course, what the relationship with Catalonia would be like 19 years later, when the daughter came of age, was anyone’s guess.

But there was no need to refuse such an empty promise.

It wasn’t so much a binding commitment as it was words exchanged to keep the mood pleasant.

 

“I’ll look forward to it, Father-in-law.”

“Haha! So I’ll finally have a son-in-law!”

 

The Marquis of Catalonia shook my hand and patted my arm.

By now, it seemed he truly didn’t care at all about how the trial would turn out.

 

⚔️

 

The next day.

Marseille Square, crowded with a massive gathering.

On the podium set up there, the trial—whose outcome had already been decided—began.

We had already secured Judge Daniel and the defendant’s lord, the Marquis of Catalonia. Naturally, it was a trial that would end with Marco’s head rolling.

 

The defense attorney’s meaningless arguments dragged on.

“Um, esteemed Marquis of Catalonia, Lord of Marseille. Um, thank you for presiding over this trial. Um, in this court, I stand on behalf of my client to, um, assert his clear innocence. Um, though my client is accused of conspiracy to commit murder, um, I will demonstrate that these are baseless allegations. Um, and—”

 

The defense attorney for the accused was an ‘Um’ villain.

Every time the sound ‘Um’ escaped his lips, the spectators twisted in discomfort, their faces contorted in pain. Even the Marquis of Catalonia’s expression darkened like a demon consumed by murderous rage.

 

Fortunately, the judge soon began reading the verdict.

The judge’s voice droned on, whining like a petulant child.

Bored out of my mind, I used [Low-Level Emotion Reading] on Marco, who sat in the defendant’s seat.

 

---

Marco (37 years old)
  ➺ Son of Luca, the Pirate King of Cagliari.

---

 

“Huh? What’s this now?”

The target, Marco, turned out to be the son of a pirate.

No doubt Marco plundered rival ships while keeping his own vessels unscathed, sailing smoothly toward success. Naturally, he thrived without resistance.

 

And Luca? He was a pirate powerful enough to give the Marquis of Catalonia headaches. The ones who raided the spice transport ships bound for Catalonia were none other than Luca’s crew.

 

‘What if I cut that bastard’s head off?’

I tried to cool my heated thoughts and assess the situation.

If I beheaded Marco right now, Luca’s crew wouldn’t just sit back. The port of Marseille could burn under their retaliation, or they might return day after day, pillaging merchant ships. 

 

By the time the Kingdom of France’s navy arrived, the port would already be in ruins.

 

‘Should I just kill him and take on Luca directly?’

 

In a past life, I would’ve acted on impulse. But now, I hesitated.

Because I’m the lord. On my shoulders rest the lives of countless people in my territory.

 

“Ah, damn it. Fine. I have no choice—I’ll halt the trial.”

I raised my hand, stopping the judge’s reading of the verdict.

 

Vice-President Daniel, practically my subordinate, froze in confusion but obeyed and halted the proceedings. The Marquis of Catalonia, however, was another matter.

 

I approached the Marquis and whispered in his ear.

“I have urgent news to share.”

“What could possibly be so important that you’d stop the trial?” he snapped.

 

Currently, everyone in the square except me has a bewildered expression. 

 

They were murmuring about why the trial had been halted, whether they might not get to witness the execution, and so on.

 

“Marquis, Marco is the son of Luca, the pirate of Cagliari.”

 

“What! What did you say? Is that true?”

 

The marquis, clearly shocked, responded with an uncharacteristically blunt remark.

 

“Yes. I swear to God it’s the truth.”

 

“…Even if you say that so suddenly. And even if it were true, how do you plan to prove it?”

 

He was asking for evidence.