Chapter 151

Chapter 151: The Black Lion War (3)

The next day.

After catching up with my reliable companions, I stepped out into the street with a solemn heart.

My destination was New Luton, the very center of Nord.

A place lined with major corporations that ran the North—here, information was life.

And the largest repository of that information was...

「Gold Morning.」

Gold Morning, the third-largest media company in the business world.

"Why are you so late? I told you to come thirty minutes early!!"

Mansachs was waiting anxiously in front of the newspaper building.

No, since I was meeting his father today—the original Mansachs—I should call him Lerry for now.

"Father doesn’t like people arriving exactly on time."

"That only applies when he’s meeting subordinates."

In business, first impressions were everything.

Terry Mansachs had agreed to meet me likely to see whether I was someone worth shaking hands with.

"I came here today as his equal, so I don’t care."

Lerry Mansachs looked at me with an exasperated expression as I walked in ahead of him.

Then, finally snapping out of it, he followed me inside.

――――――

As soon as we stepped onto the first floor, journalists dressed in sharp suits came into view.

They supposedly valued journalistic honor and conviction.

"What do you think? Everyone looks properly disciplined, right?"

"They definitely do."

Of course, that probably wasn’t the real reason they were managed so strictly.

The reason President Terry Mansachs enforced such a policy was likely...

‘To cultivate a strong sense of loyalty among the journalists.’

Most media companies didn’t offer long-term contracts to their reporters.

If they failed to produce tangible results, they were cut without hesitation, and new people were hired instead. It was more efficient that way.

So journalists would work desperately to meet their quotas, often forcing information out however they could.

Thanks to that, many exclusive stories were uncovered, but it also meant reliability often took a hit.

However, Gold Morning took a completely different approach.

Even rookie reporters were offered long-term contracts.

On top of that, the company provided clothing and various benefits—especially known for its pure gold "Golden Sun" badge.

As a result, affiliated journalists developed a strong sense of loyalty and consistently brought back high-quality information.

And soon, Gold Morning earned the label of "the most trustworthy among the Five Major Newspapers."

"Good morning, Director."

"Good morning, sir."

Loyal reporters.

Their devotion naturally extended to Lerry Mansachs, the president’s son.

"Good morning, everyone."

He responded calmly to their greetings as he guided me to the elevator.

The reporters whispered among themselves as they glanced our way.

"Isn’t that Julius Roger, the representative of the Erian Foundation?"

"I heard the chairman called him in this time… What’s going on?"

Men and women dressed in sharp suits stared at our backs as we passed by.

They were journalists too, so they must have picked up on it.

Gold Morning had risen to the third spot in the industry, which meant the time had come to form alliances.

And among those lining up for that opportunity, I was likely the first to approach them as a representative.

――――――

Only the two of us got in the elevator.

Mansachs looked out the glass window, gazing down at the vast skyline of New Luton.

"Be careful what you say when you meet my father. Especially with those sly eyes of his!"

"Don’t worry. I’ve even served the Grand Duke of the North, remember?"

I pressed down firmly on his tense shoulders to ease him up.

At that, Mansachs twisted around awkwardly, and in an instant, all the dignity of a department head vanished.

"……."

Still, he didn’t seem particularly offended.

In fact, he looked quietly pleased.

Introducing his friend to the father he feared so much—

It meant I was someone he considered trustworthy.

"Alright, let’s go in."

――――――

Once we stepped off the elevator, the department head gave a light knock on the office door.

Then, as if used to this routine, he opened the door himself despite hearing no response from inside.

"Go on in. Father always meets business partners alone."

"Alright, thanks."

When I stepped inside, the scene before me was truly a spectacle.

An empty office with nothing in it.

And dozens of golden cages filled the empty air.

The fifth-floor window was open, and cold air lingered throughout the room.

The soft rattling of cages in that chilled atmosphere—

It created a surreal ambiance that made it hard to tell whether this was real or a dream.

‘Even in my past life, I never saw anything like this.’

A truly extraordinary transformation—fitting for the man who single-handedly built a media empire.

What especially caught my eye were the sacred birds inside the cages.

They weren’t just some ordinary carrier pigeons.

There were red pigeons, said to be the fastest among the pigeon family.

A silver hawk—faster than lightning, with fewer than a hundred in the world.

Even corpse vultures, known to feed on human cadavers.

Sacred creatures so rare they were hard to find even as taxidermy in museums sat calmly inside the cages.

But the most chilling thing was that these proud birds had not made a single sound.

――――――

And the reason for that was likely the man seated at the far end, beyond the cages, at his desk.

Terry Mansachs, the man who even made sacred beasts shrink back in instinctive fear.

"You’re late, Director Roger."

His gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s.

A handsome middle-aged man, with black and white hair perfectly blended.

But unlike Bennet Tolkien, he didn’t give the impression of a man with a complicated past.

If anything, he was the complete opposite.

He had the aura of a predator, like the corpse vulture in the cage.

Unlike his son Lerry, he stared at me with chilling green eyes.

"I arrived right on time, actually."

Still, that didn’t mean I had any reason to be intimidated.

The reason I came here today was to conduct business between equals.

"When I arrived at the company, it was exactly 11 o'clock."

Perhaps irritated by my shameless demeanor, Terry Mansachs closed the documents he had been reading.

He then stared more intently at me as I stood among the birdcages.

"Isn't it common courtesy to arrive about thirty minutes early when meeting a superior?"

"But you're not my superior, are you?"

I calmly clasped my hands behind my back.

Then, I gently tapped the cage holding the silver hawk with my finger.

"……."

If it had been the second son, Lerry, speaking this way, he might’ve become a meal for the corpse vulture right then and there.

But what Terry was looking for now wasn’t an obedient son—he wanted a heavyweight he could trust and rely on.

And I was the one who raised such heavyweights.

"Anyone listening might think the Grand Duke of the North himself had come."

Terry Mansachs rose from his leather chair.

He wasn’t particularly large in stature.

But the atmosphere he gave off was just like that of the Western Grand Duke—an aura unique to those in power.

"You’ve already looked into what kind of person I am, haven’t you?"

I didn’t even bother to glance at him.

This time, I simply looked at the corpse vulture sitting haughtily inside the cage.

"If you've seen the information, then you must have some idea of what kind of person I am."

"……."

Terry Mansachs stepped forward to stand beside me.

He looked at the navy-feathered corpse vulture with me and spoke in a calm tone.

"Yes, I know well. You achieved considerable success at a very young age."

Despite his height, he had unusually large hands, which he placed on the cage.

And just like I had done earlier, he lightly tapped his finger. The corpse vulture raised its head.

"So now, you want to swim in even bigger waters."

A battlefield swarming with crows and eagles.

And among them, one sacred beast that drove all the others out and alone claimed the blood-soaked field.

That sacred beast now stared straight into my pitch-black eyes.

"But a person should act in accordance with their current level. There's no need to rush—grow slowly, through experience."

Terry Mansachs grabbed the cane resting against his desk.

Then, gesturing toward the corpse vulture, he said,

"Have you ever seen a vulture like this in your life?"

"No, I haven’t."

Corpse vultures were rare, even during the war.

Their main food source was the corpse of humans or large beasts.

After the war ended, their already small numbers dwindled even further.

"These creatures are known for rarely reaching adulthood. They're innately arrogant."

Arrogant.

It felt like he was describing me to my face.

"As chicks, they obediently devour the food their parents bring. So they think they can just grow up eating corpses strewn across the ground."

He tapped lightly on his temple as he continued.

"But once they become fully grown adults, they come to realize just how hard it is to claim those corpses for themselves."

There was no light in his green eyes.

As if he had already witnessed all the corruption and filth this world had to offer.

"The truth is, their parents fought off all the surrounding predators to secure that carcass."

The man before me had lived his life feeding on rotten meat.

And even that meat, he had protected with his life from others trying to take it.

"Only the clever ones—those who realize this early—prepare for growth over the long haul."

The president of the third-ranked newspaper company opened the cage door.

At that, the fully grown corpse vulture, which had kept its wings folded until now, began to stir.

"After enduring that long period of patience, they finally emerge as sacred beasts like this one."

The vulture unfurled its wings—and the sight was truly something to behold.

It radiated such majesty that it could easily drive off flocks of crows and eagles on its own.

"This society is no different from the wild. Those who grow up arrogantly in the warmth of their parents’ embrace eventually get weeded out."

The corpse vulture perched on Terry Mansachs’s arm.

The image was solemn—like the ruler of a nation.

It was hard to believe he was just the president of a newspaper.

The Emperor, the two Grand Dukes—it was clear that those who succeeded had a certain presence to them.

"I don’t know what it is you came here to ask of me, but for now, it’s best that you focus on solidifying what you already have."

Once the vulture had left its cage, even the rare red pigeons and silver hawks lowered their heads in submission.

"You and Lerry both are still young. You have time."

Terry Mansachs didn’t seem to be looking down on me.

In fact, he was giving advice.

"There’s no weapon stronger than youth. It means you have plenty of time to bloom."

However, he seemed to view me as one of the next generation’s rising powers.

Someone who could perhaps become Lerry’s partner, but not yet someone who belonged at his own level.

But—

That expectation was about to be shattered.

Because never in my life...

had I ever been raised in the warmth of a parent’s embrace.

The place where I was born and raised was not a cozy nest—

but a battlefield reeking of blood.

"You seem to know quite a bit about birds, Director."

I calmly gazed at the vulture perched on Terry Mansachs’s arm.

It still hadn’t taken its eyes off me.

As if it had met a rival in the middle of a corpse-strewn field.

"I’m fairly interested in them. Special envoys need unique couriers, after all."

"Then you must also know that even among corpse vultures, there are... anomalies."

Anomalies.

At my words, Terry Mansachs furrowed his weathered brow ever so slightly.

"As you mentioned, corpse vultures engage in brutal battles to claim the battlefield."

I stared straight into the bird’s eyes with my pitch-black gaze, as if locked in a staring contest.

Sensing something, its thick neck gave a slight twitch.

"Sometimes, during those battles, the parents die and never return. In that case, what happens to the chicks left behind?"

"Most would die."

I nodded calmly at the Gold Morning president’s cold response.

"You're right. But among them, a rare few crawl out of the nest on their own."

The chick that drags itself to the ground will do anything to survive.

It picks at bugs, eats human trash—completely unbecoming of a proud bird of prey.

"No matter how, it grits its beak and endures, until one day it spreads enormous wings. Such birds often become leaders of their flocks."

Terry Mansachs listened to my words, then let a faint smile rise to his pale lips.

He looked into my own lifeless eyes—so much like his—and asked,

"Are you saying you're one of them?"

I didn’t bother giving him a direct answer.

Instead, I decided to toss this titan before me a piece of bait.

"You must be burdened with many worries right now, Director."

A battlefield full of the corpses he favored most.

"Now that the Empire has entered its golden age, the media world is in the thick of internal factional wars as well."

"……."

Terry Mansachs didn’t reply immediately.

Instead, he looked at me—someone who refused to be cowed by any of his words—with growing interest.

"Sounds like the Erian Foundation has plenty of leeway. Even enough to worry about the future of someone else's company."

"After all, no one would be pleased to see such a plump goose vanish before their eyes."

Though I had compared him to a vulture...

I’d now called him a plump goose instead.

Perhaps taken aback by such lofty words from someone barely in their twenties, he let out a dry chuckle.

"Alright then. Let’s hear the rest."

"Thank you."

I offered my gratitude—most respectfully—to the goose.

"The highest powers of the Empire have already secured media outlets loyal to them. The capital’s aristocrats control the Imperial Gazette, and the Grand Duchies and noble houses are fighting over stakes in the Daily Times."

I raised one finger.

Then tapped lightly on the cage that held the corpse vulture.

"Now, the only one left… is Gold Morning."

"You think I don’t have anywhere to go? If I wanted, I could join hands with a Grand Duke this very instant."

Terry Mansachs placed the vulture perched on his arm back into its cage, his tone suggesting I should keep going.

"But you don’t want to, do you? As the head of a newspaper, you must already know how rotten the sons of the Grand Duchies are behind the scenes."

"……."

Maybe it was because he knew I used to be the direct secretary to the Grand Duke of the North.

Terry Mansachs had started to listen with real seriousness.

"Even if you do join hands with them, if the Imperial Gazette—number one in the industry—decides to dig, you’ll be completely exposed."

He must know that already.

Which was likely why, even with his headquarters in Nord, he hadn’t aligned himself with the Grand Dukes’ sons.

‘You can tell just by looking. They're nothing but rotting ropes.’

"What is it you’re trying to say? I hate beating around the bush. Reading between the lines in newspaper articles already exhausts me."

Responding to his words, I placed my hand on the cage.

Then closed the blade-lock covering the opening where the vulture could be taken out.

"I’ll make you the Emperor’s blade."

The imperial nobles.

The two Grand Duchies.

If they were crows and eagles—

Then who was the true predator left standing?

It could only be the ruler of this vast Empire.

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