Arc II - Agrarian Revolution

Chapter 12 - Deal with a Psychopath

1 month and 12 days since the summoning

Alan stood in the small throne room. Instead of his previous peasant garb, he now wore a dark-blue doublet, trousers, and tall black boots. Kamelia stood before him, adjusting his doublet. "I do not know why he suddenly... but Tsinker immediately agreed to meet with you, and he requested... a private conversation."

Alan looked down at his new clothes. "Interesting. And when is he getting here?"

Kamelia finally adjusted his collar and stepped back. "Any moment now. Alan. I beg of you. Do not say anything foolish to him, do not provoke him... simply try to find out, carefully, if we can obtain iron through him. Do not take risks, or it will end poorly for both of us... okay?"

Alan sighed. "Okay..."

Kamelia nodded. "Very well. Good luck." She turned and left the room.

Alan slowly sat at the table. His palms were slightly sweaty, and his heart beat a little faster.

'Alright... just don't fuck this up... don't fuck this up. This isn't Kamelia or Lorgi, this is the baron's fucking son, and the entire agricultural evolution... ugh, revolution... basically depends on him.'

He sat there for a few more minutes until the door suddenly opened.

Tsinker.

He was a man slightly taller than Alan, with an athletic build. His black hair was parted neatly, far too neatly, to the side. He wore a simple white doublet, white trousers, and black boots. His dark eyes stared straight ahead, and his face was entirely expressionless.

Alan immediately stood up. "Greetings, Lord Utew."

Tsinker simply stared ahead for a few seconds, then nodded. "Greetings, Lord Gothwald." His voice was high-pitched, slightly higher than a man's usual register. He stepped up to the table. "May I sit?"

"Ah... yeah, of course."

The nobleman took a seat, his back perfectly straight, his hands resting plainly on the table. Alan sat back in his chair, hiding his hands beneath the table.

"What is it you wished to speak of, Lord Gothwald?" Tsinker asked.

Alan licked his lips. "Right... I wanted to talk to you about iron. We really need it for our smithies right now."

Tsinker remained stone-faced. "As my father has stated, we are currently experiencing great difficulties at the iron mines. Consequently, we lack sufficient iron even for ourselves," he replied in a monotonous voice.

Alan narrowed his eyes.

'Oh, is that how it is? Fine... let's see how you handle this.'

"I see. If you don't mind, could you tell me what's causing these problems with the iron?"

Tsinker did not even bat an eye. "The reason is that we have depleted nearly all the iron in the old mines, and the excavation of the new ones has only just begun."

Alan placed his hands on the table. "Then why didn't your father say so directly? Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to accuse him... but why didn't he just explain the situation?"

'You're lying, you bastard. How are you gonna answer that, huh?'

"I do not know," the nobleman said flatly.

Alan's jaw slackened slightly.

"It is of no concern to me what my father told Her Ladyship; that is not my responsibility, Master Gothwald. You asked, and I provided the reason. I do not personally conduct business with Lady Armenas."

Alan just sat in silence, blinking.

'Who the fuck even is this guy?'

He remained silent for a few more seconds, then straightened up slightly. "I see..." He searched his brain frantically for something to say to avoid a dead silence.

"Are there any further questions?" Tsinker asked calmly, without altering his expression or his posture.

Alan cleared his throat. "Yes. I'll be honest with you then, Lord Utew. I need that iron. Can we strike some kind of deal for it?"

'Fuck... idiot... I just backed myself into a corner as a beggar. Alan, are you Lelouch's son by any chance? Great, now he's either going to squeeze my balls or just tell me to fuck off.'

"That depends entirely on what you have to offer," Tsinker said.

Alan froze for a second, and then something clicked in his head. "Since you agreed to this talk, that means you do have iron, doesn't it?"

The nobleman remained perfectly still. "What is it you can offer?" he repeated.

Alan leaned in closer. "Since you agreed to a private meeting, asked to speak one-on-one, and aren't leaving even though my questions are dry... that means there's something you want. Right?"

Tsinker's face remained unchanged. "Astute. Indeed it is, Lord Gothwald." For the first time, he shifted his posture, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I am well aware that you possess, shall we say, a very strong influence over Lady Armenas. I shall soon inherit the title of Baron, and ties with the Countess will prove highly beneficial to me."

Alan blinked. "Wait... but you're the youngest son. How are you... even going to become the baron? That's impossible."

"Is the iron of greater importance to you now, or the manner in which I intend to take the barony?"

"The iron," Alan replied flatly.

'This guy is a straight-up fucking psychopath. Or just insane. How is he planning to become the baron? He's the youngest son! Unless... he's planning to murder them all.'

He swallowed, barely noticeably.

'There's literally no other way for a youngest son to inherit... considering there are three of them. He's definitely going to kill them all. Classic. Wait... if he kills everyone, that means... the eldest, too? What if...'

"Lord Gothwald, are you listening to me?"

Alan flinched. "Ah, yeah... I'm listening."

"Unlikely," he replied. "I shall begin anew, then. I can grant you as much iron as you require, on the condition that for the three years following my inheritance of the title, the tax on my lands be reduced from a third to half of that third."

Alan blinked. "Isn't that a bit much?"

Tsinker merely gave a slight shrug. "I assume you have something of great import in development, so why beat around the bush? I can see that your need is dire. Furthermore, this will yield mutual benefits in the future. I have heard that you halted the plague, not by burning a village, but truly halting it. I have heard you found a way to feed the duchy, stretching the existing provisions. You are not a foolish man; you possess an incredible wealth of knowledge. Thus, I dare to assume that whatever you require this iron for will yield you far greater returns in the future than a mere tax reduction for a single barony," he stated in a completely flat voice.

Alan closed his eyes.

'Fuck, what a logical bastard... Yeah, the four-field system will bring in massive returns, but cutting taxes on the only barony that actually mines iron... that's a bitter pill to swallow too. Fine, I need to clarify a few details first.'

"And when do you... plan on... ahem... inheriting your title?"

"Why do you wish to know that?"

"It's an important part of the deal."

"And why is it important?"

Alan's eye twitched slightly.

'God, you are meticulous.'

He took a deep breath. "Because I want you... to..."

'Fuck. I can't... this is... shit... this is wrong... but... it's for Kamelia.'

"I want you to kill your eldest brother after the betrothal," he squeezed out.

Tsinker's eyebrow raised slightly, though clearly not because of the mention of murder. "You are already aware of the betrothal?"

Alan swallowed. "Shouldn't I be?"

The nobleman shook his head. "Since you are aware, there is no purpose inconcealing it. Lady Armenas requested that I not mention the betrothal in your presence. Nonetheless, I understand your logic. You wish for me to kill the eldest precisely after the betrothal, because if it were done prior, the Countess would simply be forced to select another candidate. Is that correct?"

Alan's face turned pale.

'A psychopath... a real... fucking... psychopath... How can he talk about murdering his older brother with such complete chill? Whatever... now is not the time.'

"Yeah," the young man answered quietly.

Tsinker nodded. "I understand. I had planned to kill them all in turn, beginning with the eldest in two months. However, if I must delay my plans by half a year, there must be an additional price."

Alan pursed his lips. "What is it?"

Tsinker did not hesitate. "I wish to remain by your side and actively participate throughout your journey."

Alan stood completely dumbfounded. He opened his mouth, then closed it. "You... what?"

"I wish to participate..."

"Yeah, I got it," Alan interrupted. "What's the point? Why? For what reason? Why does a person like you suddenly want to... be around? You'll already have your tax cut and your lands. So why?"

Tsinker yawned. "Because I see that you are no ordinary hero. As I have said, what you did with the sickness and the food was remarkable. You are capable of great things, yet you simply lack resources. What if you possessed them?"

Alan closed his eyes. "You're a real psychopath. You know that?"

The nobleman squinted slightly. "A what, pray tell?"

"In my world, there was a name for people like you. Psychopaths. People who feel almost no emotion. If you were born like this and have always been this way, you're definitely a psychopath."

Tsinker leaned in a bit closer. "Indeed, I have always been thus. Tell me more. What are these... psychopaths?"

Alan sighed. "I'll list it, and you can compare it to yourself. No guilt, no pity, no shame, strange habits... all that kind of stuff."

The nobleman fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yes, that is certainly me. I am a psychopath."

Alan blinked. "And that's it? Conversation over?"

"Yes. So, do you agree to this condition?"

Alan just stared at him.

'Holy shit. "I'm a psychopath," and that's it. Of course, this isn't Earth where he'd just laugh it off, it's just... whatever. But as far as I know, psychopaths are absolute dopamine junkies. They don't know how to set long-term goals for decades; they live for... immediate, complex challenges. I bet he doesn't have a clue what to do with his lands five years from now, and hasn't even thought about it. Curiosity... advanced knowledge from another world... unprecedented reforms... that's what interests you, buddy. And honestly? Keeping a psychopath close might actually be pretty useful. I just need to keep him interested. It's a paradox... but he could turn out to be my most loyal helper. He won't betray me over hurt feelings, emotions, beliefs, or anything like that... but fuck, it's a double-edged sword. If he gets bored, he'll betray me without a second thought. What should I do? Hm... if I feed him info about my world and hand out tasks in small doses, rather than dumping everything at once... I can keep him around much longer. Plus, even if he's crazy, he's extremely predictable when it comes to logic. I might regret this someday, but what the hell.'

"I agree."

Tsinker nodded. "Excellent. I presume you agreed so readily because Lady Armenas is dear to you?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah, exactly."

'The truth. Half of it is for Kamelia. And the rest is none of your business.'

The nobleman looked at Alan for a few more seconds. "Then I shall postpone the demise of the eldest until immediately after the wedding; though we shall discuss this more than once. However, before I depart, may I obtain something as a gesture before our deal is sealed?"

"Like what?"

"Those contraptions you used to purify the water."

"The filters?"

Tsinker nodded. "Yes, precisely those. I wish to discover whether they truly make the water fit for consumption, and if they do, I shall be even more convinced that this is a profitable venture."

Alan chuckled. "They aren't some kind of miracle device. Yeah, the filter clears out small debris and makes it safer, but... it's not a guarantee. You absolutely have to boil it afterward, and then you'll get clean drinking water. I'll ask someone to write down the instructions on how to make one for you."

"And why do you not write it yourself?"

Alan exhaled through his nose. "I can't write in your language."

Tsinker nodded slowly. "I understand. Is that all, then?"

"Yes."

Tsinker rose. "Excellent. Inquire of Lady Armenas whether she agrees to the tax reduction, and we shall discuss the particulars thereafter. I shall dispatch my representative to you in a week's time. Farewell." He did not bow, as manners dictated, but simply walked toward the exit.

Once the door closed, Alan slumped back into his chair and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. Then, he raised his hands and rubbed them over his face.

'I just ordered a hit on a guy and partnered up with a psychopath. What am I turning into? Shit, with every passing day, I have less and less control over things...'

He dropped his hands from his face, letting them hang limply.

'Yeah, yeah, I get it! I'm turning into a scumbag who's willing to trade lives! Okay! Cool! Wonderful! But maybe it's time to actually use my head? Okay, what do I get out of this? One: iron. I'll finally be able to make plows, move closer to the agricultural revolution, and keep my promise to Golna. Two: I save Kamelia from the wedding, and she won't have to sleep with some scumbag. Three: if I cooperate with a psychopath who runs like a Swiss watch, cleaning up this mess and resolving the problems in the county is gonna be a whole lot easier. This is fucking necessary.'

He stood up from his chair and walked toward the doors, but stopped.

'And on top of that, I'm lying to Kamelia, playing mind games with her. I acted like a total asshole to Golna back then, Lorga treats me like absolute dirt... Maybe... could I have done things differently?'

He shook his head, brushing the thoughts away, and finally walked out of the small throne room.

 

Tsinker Utew