Regressor of the Fallen Family Novel - Chapter 253 (New)

“Even if we have to dump a fortune into this, there is only one real path forward.”

Dwayne’s declaration pulled everyone’s attention to the center of the room.

“We have no choice but to bring in food from foreign nations. Our domestic supplies have already been drained, turned into war funds or hidden away as jewels by the upper class.”

Logan’s face darkened at the blunt assessment, and a collective, heavy sigh rippled through the advisors. Dwayne stepped closer to the strategic table and pressed his point.

“We must petition the other lords for assistance. We need to reach into the granaries of the regions that still have a surplus to sustain the people who are currently facing the threat of famine.”

The suggestion was noble in theory, but the reality was far more cynical. As the council members shook their heads in silent refusal, Damian voiced the consensus.

“The nobility will not lift a finger. Even if they did agree to help, they would only do so once the situation turned catastrophic, using the misery of their own starving peasants to squeeze favors out of the throne. His Majesty cannot allow things to reach that point.”

Logan gave a slow, affirmative nod.

“If we hesitate, the people’s bitterness toward the Crown will fester. Fixing the damage later will cost ten times what it would cost to prevent it now. A crisis that requires the entire nation to stand as one is only a few years away. We have to find a solution that doesn’t rely on the whims of the lords.”

It was an unspoken decree: they would proceed without expecting noble cooperation. Legally, the King lacked the power to seize their stores, and a simple request for aid would almost certainly be met with a cold shoulder. Those who understood the selfish nature of the aristocracy knew that “No” was the only answer they would receive, regardless of how politely it was phrased.

Even Dwayne, the one who had brought up the idea, bit his lip in frustrated silence.

“Does this mean we are forced to drain the reserves of the McLaine and Esperanza territories entirely, Your Majesty?”

“Esperanza already bled for the cause last winter,” the Sword Sage replied, his expression somber. “They have nothing left to give.”

“The situation in McLaine is similar,” Logan added, cutting into the conversation. “The atmosphere there is already tense, though I haven’t made it public yet.”

He paused, then shifted focus. “What about Taren? They should have a significant surplus now, shouldn’t they?”

“Ah! That is true,” Dwayne replied. “The mana stone cultivation and the new dams are finally paying off. But surely you aren’t thinking of squeezing them again so soon? The people of McLaine aren’t slaves, and those mana stones are far too precious to—Urk!”

Dwayne’s face went through a rapid transformation from indignation to horror as he realized he had just criticized the King’s intent. He looked nervously between Logan and the Sword Sage, fearing the fallout of his slip of the tongue.

The Sword Sage merely offered a weary, small smile, while Logan let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t worry, Dwayne. I’ve already cleared the plan with your master.”

“Ahem. My humble apologies, Your Grace. So, the plan is to liquidate mana stones to purchase foreign grain? It is technically possible, but…”

“But what?” Logan prompted.

Dwayne looked down, his voice tinged with the sadness of a man who dealt in numbers. “I am no master of trade, but I know one truth of the market.”

“And that is?”

“The moment the Kingdom starts making massive, bulk purchases, every merchant in the world will smell blood. They will spike their prices instantly. We could spend our entire treasury and still only end up with a fraction of the food we need because of that inflation.”

“Take this up with Philip immediately,” Logan ordered. “We need a way to move a massive volume of food across the border quickly, quietly, and at a fair price. He is the one who can find a way through this.”

“…I will speak with him, though I fear even Philip has his limits,” Dwayne muttered.

“We have to trust him,” Logan said, though he too looked weary. “If anyone here has a better idea, now is the time to speak.”

No one did. It was a bitter pill to swallow—building an army against the Empire while the people suffered—but it was their only hand to play. They had to navigate this perfectly to avoid a complete collapse.

‘We cannot let a plague or a total famine take root,’ Logan thought, his mind racing through endless calculations.

“This is a nightmare.”

[Indeed. We are counting on you, Philip. We will look for other ways on our end, but for now…]

Philip, the young man with sharp gray eyes, could only exhale a long, tired breath at the King’s “encouragement.” With only a month remaining before the planting season, the clock was ticking. The true starvation period usually hit between spring and summer, meaning he had roughly three months to save the Kingdom.

There was one advantage, however.

“The capital is rich.”

The wealth was in the form of mana stones, but the value was real. The logistics of turning those stones into physical grain usually took a month, but the McLaine Trading Company was now a formidable force. The Imperial food market was so gargantuan that even a month’s worth of mana stone sales wouldn’t normally cause a ripple in the price index.

Yet, the new requirements were staggering.

“I have to buy enough grain to feed a million people for half a year—silently, instantly, and at the bottom-tier price—all within a single month.”

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. It wasn’t about luxury; it was about the bare minimum for survival. A million people—a massive chunk of the population. He wondered what had caused the King to foresee such a catastrophic famine.

“It’s impossible… how am I supposed to do this?”

Overwhelmed, Philip slumped back into his sofa. His fingers brushed against the premium cowhide leather. This level of luxury, unheard of in the Kingdom, reminded him of why he was here. He owed this life to the support of the McLaine family and the Crown.

He forced his brain back into gear, outlining the variables.

“The central Empire is too hot. I have to stick to the eastern territories. It’s a month-long trek from Enerheim to the eastern coast. I have to finish every deal in two weeks and keep it a total secret. If the grain lords start talking, they’ll fix the prices. That means I have to…”

As he spoke the plan aloud, the mountain he had to climb seemed to grow taller.

‘No. I can do this. I have to.’

Philip stood up and marched out of his office, ready to begin. But at the very first step of his mission, he hit a wall.

“What did you just say?” Philip asked, staring at his contact.

“It’s a disaster, Philip! There are massive hiccups in the eastern Empire’s grain supply. The Imperial Court just slammed down a three-month total trade embargo on food. We’re cut off!”

“What!?”

Philip turned to Atun, a merchant who had been a reliable partner in Lustpelheim for over a year. Atun, who even supplied the Imperial Court, looked completely lost.

“Why would they do this now? What is their reasoning?”

Atun didn’t know. Sensing a deeper problem, Philip tried to reach out to the most powerful man in Lustpelheim, the market mayor, Dmitri Lion.

“The mayor is indisposed with urgent state matters and cannot see you,” came the cold reply.

This was a man Philip had drowned in bribes over the last year. The man who used to greet him with a hug was now closing the door in his face.

‘Something is rotting here.’

The stench of a trap was undeniable. He remembered Logan’s—now the King’s—warning: “One day, the Empire will invade.”

This was an Imperial maneuver designed to starve McLaine. By banning food exports across the board instead of just targeting one company, they avoided looking like they were picking a fight, while still achieving the same lethal result.

‘They are halting the entire food trade… it’s a brilliant, cold-blooded move.’

Philip sighed, but then, a spark of inspiration hit him.

‘Wait. If the entire market is frozen…’

A dangerous, cunning smile spread across his face. His gray eyes sharpened.

“…There might be an opening here after all.”

The mission that was impossible under normal rules was suddenly viable because the Imperial Court had just smashed those rules to pieces. Commerce is like blood; it has to move to keep the body alive. If the government stops the flow, the pressure builds until something bursts.

The Empire’s economy was too big to fail from a ninety-day freeze, but for the average merchant? A three-month stop was a death sentence.

“Embargo? To hell with the embargo! If I can’t move my stock for three months, I can’t pay my creditors next month! I’ll be in a debtor’s prison before the ban is even lifted!”

Kwan, a grain merchant, was screaming at his associate from the Ferum Trading Company.

“I am sorry, Kwan, but the decree is absolute. We have to follow the law of the Court.”

“And my contracts? My life?”

“Take it up with the Imperial lawyers. Now, please leave.”

Bang!

The door slammed. As Kwan stood in the street, trembling with despair, a voice spoke from the shadows.

“You look like a man who needs a way out.”

Kwan spun around. “Who are you?”

“You are Kwan, the grain merchant, correct?”

“I am… and?” Kwan looked suspiciously at the man with gray eyes.

“I am with the Aemal Trading Company.”

“…Never heard of you.”

“That is by design. We are shadow traders. We come in, we do one big deal, and we vanish. Are you interested in surviving next month?”

Kwan’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. He didn’t care about the Emperor or the embargo anymore. He was drowning.

“How much cash can you move? I’ll sell my entire stock at 80% of market value right now if you can take it off my hands.”

Philip’s smile deepened. He remembered the old insult: “A merchant would sell his soul to the devil for a copper.”

‘The high lords don’t understand how a real merchant thinks,’ Philip thought.

Because of the Imperial decree, Philip didn’t have to worry about price hikes. He was the only buyer in a market where everyone was desperate to sell before they went under. From that moment on, grain from seven major Imperial cities began flowing toward the McLaine Kingdom through a dozen different aliases and hidden routes.