“Are the count and young lord here on a different matter?”
“Partly, although Arnald is here for something else. Something between a preliminary investigation and a reconnaissance mission. We’ve heard reports that suspicious groups of men have taken up residence on the Swangan estate, so we plan to dispatch soldiers from the capital. Arnald is here to determine whether we need to send a troop or a platoon.”
“Suspicious groups of men?”
“Yes, we’ve heard the same thing in multiple villages. The plan is to deploy the military quite soon.”
“That’s a rather disturbing tale…”
“I haven’t heard anything of the sort.”
Bardu groaned, looking to be a bit dazed, while the gardener muttered a few words under his breath.
“If you take the reports and the results of our inspection into account, five years’ worth of our grain has disappeared to who knows where. Obviously, it’s been stolen in small increments, but the amount as a whole is substantial.”
Sat at his work desk in the manor house, Count Swangan gritted his teeth. Byletta was standing across the desk, looking down at him and staring at the documents he’d gathered. Arnald, meanwhile, was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed.
For the past five days, they had been comparing the amount of grain taken from each farming village in the region with the historical records of how much had been stored at the manor house. The time limit the count had set for their visit was now up, and after all the hustle and bustle of the trip, Byletta was feeling the weight.
Count Swangan, however, was enraged now that he’d seen the results.
The culprit would have had a hard time falsifying the data for each village. The risks involved in asking dozens of stewards—who ran the villages littered over the Swangan estate—to all take part in the scheme would have been far too great. Especially considering that they’d have to inform the people recording the data of what they were up to.
Someone, somewhere, would have reported things to the government. Thus, it was likely that only a small number of villages had falsified their data, and it was easy to determine which ones based on the reasons given for why their yield had decreased. All they had to do to expose what information was untrue was check with the villagers about whether the fires or sudden population booms listed in the records had actually occurred.
In the end, it came to light that over the past fifteen years, five years’ worth of grain had gone unreported. Even though there had been three plentiful harvests, they had been recorded as disastrous failures.
“A quarter of all produce is always presented to the state. This is then added to the country’s stockpiles and also sent to the front line in the form of supplies. But what we’ve sent for all these years is far below what we should have, now that we have accurate numbers. We won’t be able to escape a penalty for underreporting.”
“Your point?”
Peeking over at the count, Byletta found him sitting as still as a statue, arms crossed in front of him.
Arnald, meanwhile, just wordlessly took a sip of tea from his seat on the sofa. Apparently, he found this current predicament no concern of his. He probably didn’t even intend to inherit these lands. Still, one would’ve thought that the carelessness of the count’s land management being brought to light by this affair would have shaken Arnald a little, but he seemed entirely unbothered.
Byletta let out a heavy sigh.
“You should be more upset, missy. You do realize that we all are going to suffer if I lose my title, don’t you?”
“Since when have I had an interest in your title? I didn’t even want to get married. My only desire is to live peacefully on my own, so please don’t go worrying on my behalf.”
“You really are a… Well, in any case, tell me what you know. At this rate, we’ll be so poor that even your darling Milena will struggle to eat.”
“Then Milena and I can just set up shop somewhere else together. No one would be able to stop talking about the boutique staffed by two beautiful sisters.”
“Grr, why, you…!”
“If you simply must insist on my helping, Father, I have one simple request.”
Byletta shot her father-in-law a sweet smile, and the count shuddered. It seemed a bit silly for a man like him to turn pale and tremble at a cheerful grin from a beautiful girl—perhaps he was in awe of her splendor? Byletta could concede that point, if that was the case.
“A request from you? It depends on what kind of request.”
“Nothing major.”
“That’s what you said last time, and look what happened then.”
Count Swangan sighed, throwing a glance at Arnald as if to highlight what had happened the last time he did her a favor.
“Those are two separate matters. I have one document that I would like you to draw up.”
“Again with the documents? Are you intending on launching some sort of scam?”
“That’s very insulting to say to a businesswoman as honest as I, but I think you’ll find this a mutually beneficial transaction. Does that put your mind at ease?”
“If it was mutually beneficial, then why bother asking me in this way? I would simply grant your request. Which means that this is something that only benefits you.”
“What did you mean by ‘again’? Have you asked him to draft something for you before?” Arnald, who had remained silent the whole time, suddenly asked.
Byletta’s stomach fell. She’d kicked a hornet’s nest.
If she told Arnald that the letter from his father that had been included in her divorce petition was the result of her beating a drunk Count Swangan in combat, the illusion that the count supported her separation from his son would crumble. How that would affect the outcome of her and Arnald’s wager, Byletta didn’t know, but since she’d worked so hard to get the count on her side, she didn’t want to jeopardize that now.
Feigning composure, Byletta turned to face her father-in-law.
“It was just something I needed a favor for. This time, it’s not entirely unrelated to your estate, but… Father, there are many ways of looking at things. If you look at this request from a certain angle, you’ll see how it may end up benefiting us both.”
“You sound like a true fraudster…but fine. Present me with a way to settle this matter and have done with it.”
Had she managed to successfully dodge Arnald’s question? Puffing up her chest, Byletta carefully composed her expression.