Chapter 73
“It is unquestionably crystal.”
At the temporary auction hall set up near the open-pit mine, excitement rippled through the nobles the moment the expert who had arrived early finished appraising the ore.
“It’s really crystal? Hurry, send word to the marquis!”
“I don’t care how much it costs—just win it. Mobilize every coin we can scrape together, even from the most distant relatives!”
The nobles, previously intimidated into silence by the two ducal families, suddenly had stars in their eyes.
Now that crystal deposits had been confirmed,
no matter how many billions went into the auction, it would no longer be considered a loss.
In fact, this could reshape the balance of wealth and power altogether.
As excitement colored their faces, the auction for the crystal mine finally began.
The format was sealed bidding.
Each noble wishing to participate would submit a written bid, and the highest number would win.
“Then, we will now reveal the submitted bids.”
At the auctioneer’s announcement, only the subtle sound of dry gulps filled the hall.
“We will open the first envelope… The first bid is… 2 billion, 870 million gold.”
“T–Two billion eight hundred seventy million…?”
A murmur spread.
It wasn’t unreasonable—
a luxury townhouse in the capital cost just a little over one billion.
For the very first bid to exceed the price of such a house was shocking.
Everyone had expected high numbers, but this was clearly going far beyond predictions.
“N–Next envelope.”
The auctioneer’s face had gone pale. It was probably the first time in his life seeing amounts of this scale.
Soon came 5 billion gold.
Then 7 billion.
The bids shot sky-high until they easily surpassed 10 billion.
“There are only two envelopes remaining.”
The auctioneer wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking troubled.
Normally, the envelopes provided by the auction hall were used so that bidders remained anonymous.
But the remaining two had family crests boldly stamped on them.
A roaring golden tiger, and a soaring black dragon.
Astrakhan and Kreuz.
The auctioneer hesitated before squeezing his eyes shut and picking up one envelope at random.
His fingers had grabbed the golden tiger—the crest of Astrakhan.
Gulp.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, he forced his trembling voice to read out the bid.
“Th-Three hundred billion gold.”
“Three… hundred… billion?!”
The hall erupted.
“Can anyone even surpass that?”
“But the opponent is who it is…”
Small whispers wound through the nobles.
The Duke of Kreuz—said to possess wealth rivaling the imperial household.
“N-Next bid…”
Dozens of eyes locked onto the auctioneer’s paling lips.
* * *
“N-Next bid… is… uh… well…”
But no matter how long they waited, the next number didn’t come.
The auctioneer kept blinking, just rubbing the envelope between his fingers.
“T-This is…”
Something was clearly wrong.
He couldn’t bring himself to speak as he slowly looked toward someone with trembling eyes.
It was the Kreuz duke’s aide—the snake-eyed man who had submitted the envelope.
The man gave a small nod, his narrow eyes curving.
As if to say, You saw it correctly. Go on. Announce it.
“What is it? What’s in the envelope?”
“Hurry up!”
When the nobles grew impatient and raised their voices, the auctioneer finally opened his mouth.
“The next bid is… zero.”
He held up the empty envelope as proof.
“They didn’t submit a bid?”
“The House of Kreuz withdrew from the auction?”
The nobles were dumbfounded.
Some covertly tried to read Duke Kreuz’s expression, but no one dared to openly question him.
What on earth is going on?
Just then, as confusion swelled among the nobles—
One noble, after observing the mood, stood up and began clapping.
“Congratulations, Duke Astrakhan.”
It was Marquis Selvia, who had always emphasized the title “acting duke” every time Pavel attended the noble council.
Even though they were both imperial-faction nobles, he always kept Pavel beneath him.
Quick at calculating, as always.
A moment of bewilderment passed, and soon other nobles followed, hurrying to flatter Pavel.
Since the crystal mine had effectively passed into Astrakhan’s hands, they hoped to secure mining rights or at least distribution rights.
“Haha, thank you.”
Pavel merely nodded.
He had no idea what had happened, but the smile tugging at his lips was impossible to hide.
The lofty nobles who had regarded him as a temporary placeholder—a fake—were now bowing to him.
He felt almost as if he’d seized imperial authority itself.
Bang, bang, bang.
The gavel struck, finalizing the auction.
“Well then, congratulations.”
A count who had not yet shown himself finally appeared.
In his hands was a notarized contract.
It was unmistakably the document declaring that, as of today, the crystal mine belonged to Astrakhan.
He extended the contract with a gentle smile.
But—
Count Albon walked right past Pavel and headed toward Duke Kreuz.
“…?”
All eyes turned sharply toward the two men.
“This is the document regarding the transfer of ownership of Gelende, as discussed.”
Transfer of Gelende?
“What do you mean by that, Count?”
Someone shouted on Pavel’s behalf, for he was frozen in place.
“As of yesterday, the land of Gelende village was transferred to the House of Kreuz.”
It was a shocking statement.
“What are you talking about?! Then what about the mine auction?!”
“You needn’t worry about the open-pit mine. Duke Kreuz has graciously left it to me. Ah—since I transferred it, it now belongs to the House of Astrakhan. Haha.”
Only Count Albon’s satisfied laughter filled the hall.
“What nonsense is this?! How can land ownership be transferred overnight? No land-related matter can proceed without His Majesty’s approval!”
Marquis Selvia—now thoroughly Astrakhan’s lackey—shouted.
Gerard stepped forward.
“Quite right. However, imperial law states that land under 200 acres may be handled at the local lord’s discretion. Gelende is exactly 199.8 acres, fully meeting that condition.”
He presented the relevant section of imperial law, already prepared.
And he wasn’t done.
“We also received reports of frequent sinkholes near the open-pit plaza. Ah—perfect timing.”
As Gerard spoke, every gaze followed him toward the entrance.
An elderly man entered—stooped, balding, rather unimpressive in appearance.
Pushing up the glasses slipping down his nose, he delivered his findings.
“Upon conducting a geological survey, we found that prolonged mining has significantly weakened ground stability. Continued mining may cause the entire Gelende site to collapse. Therefore, the Gelende open-pit operation is hereby suspended.”
“You’re shutting down the crystal mine? By whose authority?”
Pavel, who had stood rigid all this time, finally snapped with murderous eyes.
But the old man’s reply was blunt.
“I am the Dean of Civil Engineering at the Imperial Academy.”
“And also the Emperor’s chief technical advisor,” Gerard added with a bright smile.
