Truly Vicious

The hot air airship was gone, and fine food and wine had arrived.

At the cold buffet, Count Weissen moved among the crowd, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of this military grain tender. He hoped everyone would eat and drink their fill, leave with pleasant memories, and take home lucrative contracts.

"Grand Duke Wessen has given His Majesty the King a large sum of money, specifically to purchase military grain!"

Count Weissen suddenly dropped a bombshell. There hadn't been the slightest hint of it beforehand.

That meant a huge extra slice of cake was now on the table. How much anyone got depended on their own abilities.

Flattery surged through the crowd.

Count Weissen was a traditional old aristocrat. If you made him happy, anything you wanted done would be easy to arrange.

"You're Buksa, right?" Count Weissen came over. "Don't worry. You won't have to pay for the flagpole."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Quite a few people had heard that someone had climbed a flagpole that morning to get a look at Grand Duke Wessen, only for the pole to snap.

Buksa said earnestly, "I'm very sorry."

Count Weissen waved a hand. "You're not the one who should apologize. I am. I've already had them replace every flagpole here with the sturdiest wood!"

"As for compensation..."

He turned to an aide beside him. "Go look at the samples Buksa brought. If there's nothing seriously wrong with them, sign him a big contract!"

The crowd erupted. In other words, as long as Buksa's second-grade grain wasn't too terrible—as long as it was passable—they could sell it as first-grade.

Quite a few people regretted it. If they'd known, they would have climbed a flagpole too.

Count Weissen chatted with Buksa for a few minutes, then went off to continue making small