The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

"Now we can begin negotiating," the Earl said.

Ravian turned to him with a stern expression.

"What negotiation are you talking about? I won’t lower this percentage by a single percentage point."

Shmichael frowned when he heard his tone.

"Rayan, mind your manners."

Ravian’s gaze shifted to him, but his expression did not change in the slightest.

"I’m minding them. I’m only making it clear that I won’t concede any further. I’ve already offered the greatest concession I can."

He said this while looking at all three of them, without the faintest hint of backing down.

At that, the Earl frowned for the first time since the conversation had begun.

"You’re not a flexible man, are you? Your project is worth nothing without the power and money needed to carry it out."

Ravian nodded calmly, though the sternness in his eyes only deepened.

"And I also know that what I’ve asked for amounts to nothing compared to what you’re going to gain, my lord Earl."

"Huh? What do you mean, Rayan?" Larette asked.

Her desire to understand what he meant seemed to have overtaken her interest in who would win this round of negotiations.

Ravian looked into her deep blue eyes for a moment.

"The financial profits are the least important of the gains this project offers in your father’s eyes, Lady Larette."

Then he returned his gaze to the Earl, who showed no reaction at all.

And before Larette could ask what he meant, Ravian went on:

"This project, if it succeeds as it should, could earn your father enough merit and influence to secure his promotion by a full rank in the noble hierarchy—from Earl to Marquis—right here in the very heart of the capital."

Ravian smiled as he said it.

Larette’s eyes widened, and Shmichael’s expression changed completely. As for Patrick, not a muscle moved in his face, but his thumb stopped rotating the black ring.

Larette realized the matter was far greater than she had expected.

Shmichael had foreseen that the project would have an enormous impact, but he hadn’t imagined that impact extending so far as to raise its sponsor from the rank of Earl to Marquis, and inside the imperial capital itself, no less.

It was a tremendous leap for any noble.

Patrick, for his part, wasn’t shocked by the project’s value itself; he had grasped it from the moment he’d looked over its initial details.

What truly surprised him was that a young man his daughter’s age had been able to see that same political reach and hadn’t been dazzled by the glitter of immediate profits.

For financial gain, however vast, was nothing more than the beginning.

If the first phase succeeded as expected, the matter wouldn’t stop at one district or two. The rest of the capital would demand the same system, and then the other cities of the Empire would follow, one after another.

And with every expansion, Patrick would no longer be a mere financier of the project, but the political name tied to it—the man who possessed the expertise, the men, and the authority required to carry it out.

And once this technology brought about a transformation within the Empire, it would be time to carry it to the other kingdoms, empires, and races.

At that point, Patrick would become the foremost voice in matters of water, sewage, and the modernization of cities, and then the Empire’s envoy for this project beyond its borders.

The project wasn’t merely a gold mine.

It was a ladder to power.

And Ravian knew that perfectly well.

From his initial demands and his insistence on his percentage, Patrick had taken him for just a young man chasing immediate or medium-term gains.

But the smile on Ravian’s face said plainly:

’Do you think I came to ask for pocket money, my lord Earl?’

’I am the real investment you should be making here.’

The Earl smiled wickedly in turn.

"Cunning."

Larette and Shmichael turned toward the Earl in bewilderment, while Ravian continued watching Patrick, waiting for the end of a performance whose outcome he had known from the very start.

"Truly... you’re the most cunning young man I’ve ever seen," Earl Patrick said, watching him.

Then his gaze dropped for an instant so brief it could scarcely be noticed before returning to Ravian’s face.

His smile faded, and his features grew colder.

"But there’s no need for the precaution you’ve just taken. I bear you no ill will, and I don’t like to see those I care about exposed to any threat. So don’t tear down the trust my family has built with you."

Ravian’s smile vanished in turn, and his calm features returned to the fore.

Then the Earl continued:

"You and I both know this project won’t move from paper into reality without you. So put down what’s in your hand before I lose my temper."

Larette and Shmichael exchanged confused glances. They were hearing Patrick’s words, but they hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about Ravian.

"Father, calm down for a moment—"

Larette was about to go on when Ravian raised his right hand from beneath the table and set the pen he’d been holding down on its surface.

"Forgive my rudeness, my lord Earl. I suffer from delusions of grandeur sometimes."

He smiled again and sat there perfectly calm, as though he’d done nothing at all.

Larette and Shmichael frowned more deeply, neither of them understanding what was happening, while the smile returned to the Earl’s face.

"Mad and clever... but you recognize goodwill when you see it."

He said it in praise of Ravian, without offering Larette or Shmichael any explanation.

Ravian simply nodded.

’He’s strong... stronger than I thought.’

He looked down at the fingers of his right hand. Their faint trembling still hadn’t subsided.

As for the pen he had just set down, it hadn’t been in his hand for nothing.

Moments earlier, he had been concealing it beneath the table, gripping it between his fingers, with his index finger braced behind its blunt end. The tip, meanwhile, had remained angled upward toward the exposed side of Larette’s neck closest to him.

He had tensed the muscles in his arm and kept his index finger poised to move, while Absolute Focus adjusted his aim with every movement Larette made—all without disrupting the smooth flow of Ravian’s speech or taking his attention off the Earl.

It had been a contingency plan he’d prepared in case Earl Patrick decided to kill him and seize the project for himself.

At the first sign of an attack or killing intent from the Earl, Ravian would have loosed the pen at Larette’s neck without hesitation.

He’d had no real chance of striking Patrick himself, so he’d chosen a loss the Earl wouldn’t be able to ignore even if Patrick succeeded in killing him.

But Patrick had discovered it.

An exceedingly fine thread of his aura slipped beneath the table and pressed against the tip of the pen, pushing it aside.

The pressure was subtle enough that neither Larette nor Shmichael felt it, but it carried enough force to make Ravian’s fingers tremble.

His reconstructed arm withstood the first push without budging, but he realized at once that the Earl had used only the smallest fraction of his strength.

Even so, there remained a single moment in which Ravian could loose the pen before the aura closed its grip on it entirely.

His index finger nearly moved.

That was when Patrick spoke, making it clear that he bore Ravian no ill will and knew the project wouldn’t be completed without him.

So Ravian relaxed—relatively speaking—and then returned the pen to the surface of the table.

Larette had no idea that, moments earlier, she had been a single movement of a finger away from an attempt that might have killed her, or that what had saved her from that gamble was her father’s decision to dispel Ravian’s suspicion rather than test it with force.

For Ravian had been ready for any outcome and determined not to let his killer walk away from the confrontation without suffering an irreplaceable loss.

’Sixth Rank?... Or Fifth?’

Ravian watched the Earl in silence.

’He didn’t reveal enough for me to be certain. But it’s a good thing I didn’t rush.’

He could have loosed the pen the very first instant the Earl’s aura touched it, but he’d decided not to gamble.

And it turned out his decision had been the right one.

"Larette, Shmichael, go outside. I need to speak with Rayan in private," the Earl said.

Despite their bewilderment, they obeyed the command and left.

But Larette didn’t leave before casting one last glance at Ravian.

Patrick saw it and shook his head in disappointment.

’Foolish girl. Of all the people you could have been drawn to, you chose a venomous dragon.’

Then he returned his gaze to Ravian.

Ravian knew, just as Patrick did, that everything that had happened so far had been nothing but a prelude.

Only now did the real negotiations begin.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!