Chapter 207
Nicolas’s very first stop was the Beren Residence, home to the Minister of Finance.
His unexpected arrival threw the Beren family into a state of high alert, as if they were bracing for an attack.
Alfred had come out to greet him and had the servants serve hot coffee. With a polite smile, he said, “Lord Nicolas, your presence brings honor to my humble abode.”
Nicolas wore a perfunctory smile in response before he glanced down at his cup.
Noticing a revolting layer of coffee scum floating on the surface, he wrinkled his nose and thought, “Disgusting.”
Nicolas set down the cup and cast a disdainful glance around the room.
The furnishings in the room were so shabby, they might as well have belonged to any commoner’s household, he pondered.
Even the chair Nicolas sat on had a missing leg, and it was propped up with nothing but a brick. He couldn’t help but wonder, “Seriously? They can’t even afford a proper chair here!”
He turned his attention back to Alfred. Perhaps it was simply because he was at home, Alfred’s everyday clothes bore several patches, the fabric was faded and tattered from countless washes, and they had lost their original color and texture.
Alfred was lean and wiry, yet his eyes shone with keen intelligence.
His gaze at Nicolas held both scrutiny and surprise, yet was completely devoid of any flattery.
Nicolas turned to Alfred and said, “Prince Fermin is deeply remorseful that your daughter was injured at the gala dinner and has specifically instructed me to deliver this healing balm.”
With that, his attendant promptly placed the Snowveil Balm on the table.
Nicolas allowed himself a faint smirk as he thought with satisfaction, “This Snowveil Balm is practically unobtainable. Fortunately, Athena is so temperamental, and she only treats people when she feels like it. If everyone had access to this balm, all my scheming would’ve been for nothing!”
Alfred gave the balm a skeptical once-over, then shot Nicolas a sharp, bewildered look.
Nicolas said with a confident smile, “Mr. Beren, there’s no need for such surprise. While the Snowveil Balm is indeed rare, I’d gladly spend a fortune to heal your daughter’s injury. It’s well worth it.”
Nicolas spoke with an air of superiority, utterly convinced that such a rare medicine would make Alfred weep with gratitude.
“Just one bottle of balm to buy off this old fox. What a steal,” Nicolas thought with satisfaction.
Alfred straightened his posture ever so slightly, as Nicolas’s true intentions slowly dawned on him.
He was an incorruptible official who never engaged in factional disputes.
The court was in the heated throes of the succession crisis, with all the princes vying fiercely to win over key officials.
Refusing to take sides or make compromises, Alfred was a rare stalwart in the court, an unyielding rock amid the muddy currents. Now, this political mud was flung right in front of him. Alfred’s expression grew cold as he fixed Nicolas with a steely gaze. He demanded, “Lord Nicolas, what exactly do you mean by this?”
Nicolas knew Alfred’s temper–he was as stubborn as a mule and just as disagreeable.
Nicolas thought, “It seems like a mere bottle of balm won’t be nearly enough to win Alfred over to Prince Fermin’s faction.” Nicolas smirked, “Mr. Beren, why play coy? Prince Fermin, the Queen’s biological son and the most promising one among the princes, has always admired you. This olive branch isn’t extended lightly. Think carefully, lest you regret missing the opportunity of a lifetime.” Alfred let out a derisive “Hmph,” his expression turning stony as he said, “Spare me your words, Lord Nicolas. Kindly see yourself out.” He had already made his stance clear in court, yet Nicolas still kept knocking–he truly had no sense of propriety.
Nicolas shot Alfred a sharp, surprised look as he questioned, “Mr. Beren, are you truly resolved? Even if it means your daughter’s face would be permanently disfigured!”
“Are you threatening me?” Alfred’s face darkened with fury as he asked.
Alfred was famously doting toward his daughter, and he wouldn’t give a star if she had asked for the moon.
At home, she was the apple of his eye.
Using his daughter was as good as striking his most sensitive nerve.
For Nicolas to threaten him using…
Unfortunately, Nicolas was unaware of that. He coldly sneered, “Burns aren’t like ordinary wounds. Without this Snowveil Balm, your beloved daughter’s face will surely be disfigured. Good luck finding her a husband after that!”
Alfred’s chest heaved with fury as he sprang to his feet.
Jabbing a finger right at Nicolas’s nose, he roared, “Get out! Get the hell out!”
Nicolas was utterly stunned. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and raised in a distinguished family of scholars, he had never been subjected to such vulgar abuse.
Nicolas stood frozen in shock, completely at a loss for how to respond.
Alfred’s family had been farmers for generations. It wasn’t until his father’s time that they finally gained a government position.
Although Alfred now held the rank of Minister, deep down, he still carried the temperament of a farmer.
His mother was even less like the typical noblewoman who spent her days sipping coffee and tending to her health.
She had pulled out all the flowers and plants in her courtyard and replaced them with vegetables and grain.
Sometimes, when the mood struck, she even dressed like a farmwoman and went out to sell produce.
Growing up in that household, Alfred had been deeply influenced by his upbringing. Though a scholar by training, he lacked the usual pedantic airs of his peers.
In fact, he had once famously scolded three court officials in one breath right in court.
Even the sharpest-tongued censor couldn’t win an argument against him.
Nicolas had assumed that a man like Alfred could be bought off with some incentives. He never expected to be scolded so viciously that he could barely lift his head.
“How dare you! You dare insult the heir of a noble house?” Nicolas bellowed, finally reacting and trying to assert his title to regain control.
But not only did Alfred show no fear, he even grabbed the broom leaning by the door and struck Nicolas with it, roaring. “I’m not just going to curse you. Today, I’m going to beat you, tool! If you’ve got the guts, go tell the King to confiscate my estate and throw my whole family in prison!”
Nicolas had never imagined things would spiral out of control like this. Clutching his head, he scrambled to escape.
As he fled, Alfred continued cursing after him, “What kind of trash comes barging into my home just to throw his weight around like this? You think I won’t report you to the King tomorrow?
“Engaging in factionalism for your own gain, and you’ve got the nerve to act justified?”
Alfred chased Nicolas all the way to the gate, still fuming. He spat, “You dare use my daughter’s injury to threaten me? You think I’m scared? And that so-called miracle medicine–how dare you utter such nonsense! Open your eyes and take a good look. That balm is barely worth 700 dollars, and you tried to pull a fast one on me?”
Nicolas’s face turned an ugly shade of grey with rage. He couldn’t even get a word out.
The Alfred household lived so modestly that even a thief would leave in tears, and that explained why Alfred was so stubborn and unyielding.
The King would not even believe it if someone tried to frame Alfred with a crime.
And this was exactly why Alfred had managed to remain untouchable for so many years.
Arthur valued that very quality in him, which was why he entrusted Alfred with the Ministry of Finance. That office controlled the nation’s entire budget.
Of course, Prince Fermin wanted Alfred on his side as his position alone made him a prize worth pursuing.
But Nicolas had never expected to hit a wall that hard, and let alone be physically thrown out of someone’s home.
“When have I ever been this humiliated?” he wondered, standing outside the gate, so furious he wanted to curse but couldn’t come up with anything.
And so, Nicolas swallowed all his anger and frustration, got into his carriage, and left in a hurry.
On the road back, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
He punched the carriage wall in a fit of rage and growled, “That damn old fool, how stubborn and insufferable, just as expected.”
In the carriage, Nicolas composed himself again and moved on to his next stop.
He had thought the Beren family would be an exception, but the Deputy Justice of the Federal Bureau responded with the same vague attitude.
After learning the reason for Nicolas’s visit, the Deputy Justice neither welcomed nor rejected him.
He drank plenty of coffee, shared a long conversation, yet never once revealed his stance.
When Nicolas was about to leave, the man even stuffed the balm back into his hands.
Nicolas was completely puzzled. Only then did Alfred’s words suddenly come back to him: “That balm is barely worth 700 dollars.” Nicolas paused, a sense of unease creeping in as he thought, “Something’s not right here…”
With growing urgency, Nicolas hurried off to the Royal Inspector’s residence.
The Royal Inspector, however, received Nicolas with surprising warmth. Yet when Nicolas produced the Snowveil Balm, the official showed not the slightest hint of surprise.
Instead, he pulled out an identical bottle and said to Nicolas, “Viscountess Athena already visited yesterday and personally brought this Snowveil Balm for my daughter’s use. How…thoughtful of you, Lord Nicolas.”
Before the Royal Inspector could finish speaking, Nicolas sprang to his feet and bolted out the door.