TGDHC Chapter 77

Chapter 77. Negotiations Break Down

“What did the head of the Merchants’ Guild say?”

Perel scratched his forehead.

“He said he’s been encouraging shopkeepers to apply for stalls, but the opposition among them is too strong.”

“So… are they saying the marketplace plan is canceled?”

“He said he’ll try persuading them again.”

I let out a scornful laugh. His real intentions were obvious.

“There must be conditions, right?”

“He suggested giving subsidies as compensation.”

“He wants us to hand out more money to the Merchants’ Guild?”

Perel raised his eyebrows, surprised I guessed it.

“Since it would look bad if we gave subsidies directly, he wants us to provide the Guild with extra funds. Then, under some official excuse, he would ‘distribute’ them to the merchants.”

“So, we provide the money, and he gets all the credit?”

“Exactly.”

“What do you think, Perel?”

“Honestly, the Guildmaster himself may be the one blocking the applications. He may not have even informed the shopkeepers properly.”

I nodded.

Having dealt with the Guildmaster for years, sharp-eyed Perel had probably already realized what kind of man he was—a man who seemed clumsy, but sly enough to manipulate situations for his gain.

The Guildmaster always acted like a bumbling fool.
To control sharp, calculating merchants, you’d expect someone quick and clever. But he only flattered others and avoided responsibility—hardly the type to lead.

I had once thought him pathetic. But now I saw that “foolishness” was his weapon.

‘His acting really is excellent. Even I, who thought I’d seen it all, was fooled.’

“Still, giving subsidies would solve the problem more quickly.”

Perel spoke cautiously, watching my reaction.

In other words, it might be better to give in to the Guildmaster’s scheme, no matter how dirty it felt.

“But there’s no guarantee that even if we give subsidies, the shopkeepers will apply. They could just pocket the money and stay silent.”

“That’s why I thought we could set a condition: subsidies only if they actually sign the application.”

It was a reasonable idea. But I shook my head.

“I refuse.”

Not for a moment did I intend to solve this with money.

“The entry conditions for the marketplace are already attractive enough. There’s no need to humiliate ourselves further by handing out subsidies.”

“Yes, that’s true, but…”

Perel frowned slightly.

“The Guildmaster won’t budge unless he gets what he wants. And the merchants will follow his lead.”

His point was clear: practically speaking, if all the Goldrain merchants refused, we could never fill the new marketplace.

“Most northern merchants already operate in Goldrain.”

I thought it over.

Perel was right: giving them “priority rights” was meaningless, since they all belonged to the Guild anyway. That’s why the Guildmaster could act so arrogantly—stalling for time, trying to squeeze everything he could from us.

His laziness and greed boiled my blood.

‘How dare you think you can run business with that attitude?’

At the very least, I would never allow my planned marketplace to be ruined by such people.

Better to show the envoy an empty market than to surrender to the Guild.

I looked around the lakeside and made up my mind.

‘Actually, this works out. I wanted a marketplace with a completely different atmosphere from Goldrain anyway.’

“Cecilia.”

I called the lady waiting behind me.

“We’ll need to run an advertisement in Northern News this week. Can you manage that?”

“Of course, Your Highness. If we do an extra print process, there won’t be a problem.”

While Cecilia hurriedly prepared paper and pen, still not knowing what was going on, I turned to Perel.

“Perel, summon the construction masters immediately. We need to change the market’s design.”

“R-right now, Your Highness?”

Perel looked around at the stacks of building materials already delivered to the lakeside, clearly panicked.

“Don’t worry. The changes won’t be that drastic.”

“I only intended to double the number of shops.”

“Double…?”

Perel blinked in shock, wondering if he’d heard me wrong.

***

Late Afternoon, Training Grounds

Norton sipped water, his throat dry, and glanced at his commander across the field.

The commander was wiping sweat from his neck with a towel—yet still held his sword.

‘Surely he won’t ask for another round…?’

Norton’s hands still trembled from the repeated clashes of steel.

‘And it had to be Tiern on guard duty today…’

Rumors had spread through the order that lately their lord had been overtraining.
The deputy commander even warned them: “Keep your distance. If you run into him at dawn while he’s practicing alone, you won’t be walking afterward.”

Norton had thought it exaggerated. After all, the Duke always trained furiously when his curse worsened, wielding his sword all night to vent the power.

‘But lately, thanks to the Grand Duchess, his condition should have improved…’

That’s why Norton found this strange. The Duke was full of energy, yes—but it didn’t feel like the dangerous kind from the curse. It was… different.

As Norton tried to hold out by sipping slowly, the commander tossed aside his towel and stepped forward again.

“One more bout.”

“O-one more, sir?”

Even unshakable Norton stuttered. But of course, he couldn’t disobey.

Just as he braced himself, the Duke’s sword suddenly lowered.

“…The Grand Duchess?”

The commander’s gaze was fixed on the main road outside the grounds.

The Grand Duchess?

Puzzled, Norton followed his gaze—and spotted a small, rattling carriage approaching.

Immediately, the commander strode out of the training grounds.

The carriage neighed to a halt in front of the manor.

By the time Norton caught up, the Duke was already opening the carriage door.

Inside, the Grand Duchess peeked out, her golden hair neatly pinned.

“My lord! You were training?”

“I just finished.”

His voice sounded… unusually excited.

“I see.”

“Would you join me for dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I promised to eat with Cecilia.”

CRACK.

Something snapped loudly.

“…?”

The carriage’s exterior door handle had broken clean off in the Duke’s grip.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

He clenched the handle tightly, as if about to crush it, and shot a glare at Norton.

“…Finally had a chance… and it’s ruined.”

He muttered so low it was almost a growl. Norton swallowed hard.

If Her Highness leaves now… I’ll be sparring until my arms fall off.

“Y-Your Highness,” Norton raised his voice toward the carriage so Cecilia inside could hear.

“Forgive me, but… may I take Cecilia with me instead?”

“Huh?”

“I wanted to share dinner with my sister for once.”

Inside the carriage, Cecilia looked shocked.

“What nonsense? Of course I’m eating with Her Highness fir—”

But she stopped when she saw Norton’s desperate eyes.

A quiet conversation followed inside. Then the Grand Duchess leaned out again, smiling brightly.

“My lord, let’s have dinner together, then.”

“You’re sure?”

“The siblings are always busy because of us. We should give them a chance to spend time together.”

“…I see.”

The Duke’s expression lit up immediately.

“Then I’ll see you at the manor later.”

He discreetly hid the broken handle behind him and waved.

After the carriage left, he patted Norton’s shoulder warmly.

“The Grand Duchess is right—family comes first. Enjoy dinner with your sister.”

Smiling broadly, he walked away, leaving Norton breathing a sigh of relief.

Never again, Norton vowed, will I wander into the training grounds out of boredom.

***

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The pounding on the door jolted Guildmaster Baron Gelfry awake.

His last memory was drinking wine all night with his lieutenants in the Guild hall. Now, some were still sprawled asleep on couches and floors.

Since they had dismissed the servants to drink, no one was left to answer the door.

“Is no one there?”

“Damn it…”

Grumbling, Gelfry dragged himself to open it.

Outside stood several shopkeepers, their faces flushed with anger.

“What brings you here so early?”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Their sudden shouting made Gelfry scowl.

‘These commoners dare yell at a noble?’

Though furious, he forced patience. These were wealthy merchants, after all. As a newly appointed baron, he couldn’t afford to offend them.

“What do you mean? Speak clearly.”

The jeweler, Jamer, glared at him.

“The negotiations—what happened?”

“The new marketplace, you mean?”

All this fuss over subsidies?

‘Of course I’ll get it sorted…’

Gelfry clicked his tongue.

“Be patient. Negotiations are still ongoing.”

He was about to scold them for their rudeness when Jamer shoved something under his nose.

It was an advertisement page—from Northern News.