"Isidore."
"Yes, Grandpa."
Isidore answered, clasping his hands that were dry and tingling.
"I heard that you bought the iron last year in advance and then sold it to the Marquis of Marne to make a big profit."
"Yes."
"And I heard that you made a lot of gold by selling that iron at twice the price a while ago, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"How did you know that iron prices will go up this year?"
"For two reasons. One is that last year, iron was mined more than previous years, causing the price to fall significantly below the actual value. It's an unusual price because no new mines have been discovered."
"Also?"
"Since the barbarians in the Marne area are becoming increasingly powerful, I expected that sooner or later the Marquis would increase his arsenal. Since iron is required to make weapons, the price inevitably rises."
Bardo Visconti laughed out loud at the answer that came out of the mouth of an eight-year-old child.
"Ha ha ha! You are as if the golden incarnation of Visconti founder, the incarnation of gold, has been reincarnated. I assure you, you will become a householder comparable to the founder."
"I will devote myself to surpassing the founder."
"Your spirit is great! It's the exact opposite of Albert, who's like a dog who eats beef."
"......"
"I have high expectations of you."
Little Isidore tidied up his grandfather's wildly tousled hair with an annoyed expression.
To be honest, the child was lazy and tired of the excessive expectations that his grandfather placed on him. At the same time, the sense of inferiority and suspicion his father showed him was also disgusting and irritating.
"Isidore, you are a perfect kid."
Contrary to his grandfather's assertion, he's not perfect, he's just...
* * *
"Isidore?"
Isidore, who was standing quietly like a plaster statue under the sunlight pouring through the huge window, suddenly came to his senses at his aunt's call.
"......"
Maybe it's because his aunt brought up an old story, but it had been settled in the past for a long time.
"Yes, auntie."
He answered in a subdued voice.
"... I just heard that Princess Deborah has arrived nearby. It seemed like the destination was here."
The vassals, who were afraid of the expressionless Isidore, begged the Marquise of Vaslane to tell him that the princess had come.
However, it was not easy for even Agath to talk to Isidore, who was wearing a heavy atmosphere. Like now, there were times when his nephew felt infinitely difficult. Isidore, who hardered his expression, looked cold as if not a single needle would go in.
"Yes?! The princess?"
But as soon as the word Princess Deborah was mentioned, his frozen eyes filled with perplexity. He walked toward the front door as if running.
