Top Tier Perversion: Dual Cultivate Secretly

The moment the White Apricot King agreed to open the southern routes, the argument shifted to who would pay for it.

"The beasts enter through White Apricot Kingdom," the Red Persimmon minister said. "Why should our treasury compensate land inside your borders?"

"Because those beasts will enter Red Persimmon Kingdom if we continue blocking them," the White Apricot minister snapped back. "Would you rather compensate us for flooded fields or rebuild your villages afterward?"

The Golden Quince minister struck the map with one finger. "Golden Quince Kingdom will contribute soldiers and supplies, but we will not pay for every orchard White Apricot Kingdom decides to abandon."

"We aren’t abandoning them for pleasure!"

Voices rose immediately.

Vincent continued eating.

The argument lasted another two minutes before the White Apricot King finally slammed his palm against the table.

"Enough!"

Everyone quieted.

"White Apricot Kingdom will bear the first withdrawal because the beasts enter through our land. Red Persimmon Kingdom and Golden Quince Kingdom will contribute soldiers, supplies, and labor. Any fields deliberately flooded or destroyed as part of the agreed routes will be recorded, and all three kingdoms will share the losses afterward."

The Red Persimmon minister opened his mouth.

The White Apricot King glared at him. "Or we can spend another hour arguing while the beasts continue moving."

The man closed his mouth.

The Golden Quince minister looked over the map once more before reluctantly nodding.

"Golden Quince Kingdom accepts."

The Red Persimmon minister remained unhappy, but after looking around the table and finding no support, he finally said, "Red Persimmon Kingdom accepts as well."

Vincent swallowed the last piece of meat on his plate.

"Great. Glad we solved international politics."

Several people looked toward him.

Vincent wiped his mouth with the napkin.

"Now let’s discuss my payment."

The expressions around the table immediately changed.

The Red Persimmon minister looked especially offended.

Vincent smiled pleasantly.

"What? You didn’t think I was doing all this for free, did you?"

The White Apricot King studied him. "What does House D’Arc want?"

"Grain."

That answer surprised most of them.

Vincent raised a finger.

"And wine."

That surprised them considerably less.

The Golden Quince minister glanced at him. "You wish to be paid in alcohol?"

Vincent’s smile disappeared.

"What?"

The man hesitated.

Vincent leaned forward, visibly offended.

"Why did you say it like that?"

"I merely—"

"I said grain first."

"Yes, but—"

"And I said wine second. Wine is a product. House D’Arc trades products." Vincent pointed toward himself. "Do I look like I’m asking you people to fill my bedroom with barrels so I can drink myself unconscious?"

Anastasia quietly looked away.

The Golden Quince minister looked increasingly uncomfortable. "No offense was intended, Lord D’Arc."

"Good. Because I’m not an alcoholic."Vincent nodded.

He continued.

"When things settle down, all three kingdoms provide House D’Arc with an agreed quantity of grain and your persimmon-apricot-quince mix wine. Nothing ridiculous. Write it down as payment for the assistance I’ve provided tonight."

The White Apricot King frowned slightly. "That is all?"

"That is all."

Everyone was in a bit of disbelief because the help Vincent provided was quite a lot. But when they thought about it, what had this bastard done other than act haughty and say a few words? They were doing all the work!

Even giving him some food and wine was generous.

People couldn’t voice out this of course. The man before them was from House D’Arc, and there was a sword still lying on the table.

A clerk was quickly called over, and the terms were written quickly.

Vincent made sure the wording clearly stated that the supplies would constitute complete payment for his assistance during the crisis.

Once the document was being copied for all three kingdoms, Vincent quietly activated Karmic Thread Perception.

His eyes moved across the table.

White Apricot King.

Nothing.

White Apricot ministers.

Nothing.

Red Persimmon minister.

Nothing.

Golden Quince minister.

Nothing.

The officers and soldiers nearby were the same.

No red threads. No blue threads.

Vincent almost smiled.

’Beautiful.’

Whatever these people currently thought about him, none of them personally believed they owed him enough to create a karmic obligation.

Exactly how he liked it.

Then Vincent remembered something else.

"Right. We need somebody to handle all this afterward."

The officials looked toward him.

Vincent’s gaze wandered past the soldiers, officers, and servants until he found a familiar face standing well behind Captain Rolan.

The villager who had originally approached him.

The man had simply seen Vincent and Anastasia fighting and, apparently deciding that any two people capable of killing beasts that easily were worth bothering, had run over and begged them to help.

Vincent pointed at him.

"You."

The villager looked around.

"Yes, you. Come here."

The man cautiously stepped forward, looking as though he expected to be punished for something.

Vincent gestured toward him.

"This man was the one who found me first."

The officials looked at the villager.

"He saw two capable people and immediately thought, ’Hey, maybe these guys can help us.’ Good instincts. Excellent initiative."

The villager’s eyes widened.

Captain Rolan looked at him with an expression that suggested he had never once considered the man particularly excellent at anything.

Vincent continued.

"So from now on, anything involving this agreement between the Valley kingdoms and House D’Arc goes through him. Shipments, documents, requests, whatever."

The villager’s face went blank.

The White Apricot King stared at Vincent. "You are appointing him as your representative?"

"More like your representative to us. A bridge. He sends things to House D’Arc, House D’Arc sends things back through him."

Vincent turned toward the man.

"What’s your name again?"

The villager swallowed.

"Larry, Your Lordship."

Vincent stared at him.

"Larry?"

"Yes, Your Lordship."

A second passed.

Vincent looked at him a little more carefully.

"Your name is actually Larry?"

"...Yes."

Another second passed.

"Wow."

Larry didn’t know how to respond.

Vincent nodded and turned to the king.

"Anyway, Larry is your guy."

The White Apricot King looked at Larry again.

Larry looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

Ten minutes ago he had been an irrelevant villager standing near the edge of a royal emergency meeting.

Now three kingdoms had to go through him to communicate directly with House D’Arc.

Vincent activated Karmic Thread Perception again.

A blue thread had appeared.

It stretched directly from Larry toward him.

Vincent stared at it.

’Damn it, Larry.’

He checked everyone else again.

Nothing.

Only Larry.

The man’s life had just changed so dramatically that he genuinely believed he owed Vincent.

’Forget it. It’s just one guy. I can deal with Larry later.’

Vincent deactivated the perception.

Around them, the meeting finally broke apart.

Orders were shouted across the square. Copies of the map were carried toward waiting officers. Messengers mounted horses while irrigation workers were summoned from nearby districts. Soldiers who had spent hours building defensive positions were now being ordered to dismantle selected barricades before the next migration reached them.

Vincent and Anastasia moved away from the tables while the kingdoms handled the work themselves.

Anastasia walked beside him for a while before asking, "Young master, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why have you been acting so strangely?"

Vincent glanced at her.

"Strangely?"

"You have been deliberately rude since the meeting began. More than usual."

"Wow. That assessment sure hurts. I thought you of all people would know how kind, compassionate, and humble I am just like how mom taught me to be. But... tsk, tsk."

Anastasia ignored this nonsense.

She added, "You also insisted on payment when the amount clearly doesn’t matter to House D’Arc, and you appointed a random villager to handle relations between three kingdoms and your house."

Vincent sighed.

They had moved far enough away that the officials could no longer hear them.

His shoulders relaxed almost immediately.

"It’s karma."

Anastasia’s expression changed slightly.

Vincent continued, "If I walk in here, save everybody, refuse payment, shake hands with the kings and leave, what do you think happens?"

"They become grateful."

"Exactly. And then suddenly thousands of people are talking about how Vincent D’Arc saved their homes. Maybe their kings think they owe me. Maybe their soldiers think they owe me. Maybe farmers start praying for my health or some shit."

He rubbed his forehead.

"I don’t know exactly what makes Fate decide an obligation matters, and I really don’t want to find out by having half the Valley attached to me with blue threads."

Anastasia slowly understood.

"So you made your involvement transactional."

"Yeah. They aren’t receiving charity. They bought help from House D’Arc. Their kings made the decision, their officials created the routes, and their soldiers are the ones actually doing the work."

Vincent glanced back toward the tables.

"And if people need someone local to praise for finding me, they can praise Larry."

Anastasia’s lips moved faintly.

"You have sacrificed Larry."

"I gave Larry the greatest career promotion in human history. He’s fine."

"And doesn’t that conflict with karma?"

Vincent sighed again.

"He owes me, yes."

"Indeed."

"Everyone else is clean, though. So that’s a win. I’ll deal with Larry later."

A bell rang somewhere beyond Harrowfield.

Vincent immediately stopped talking.

Another bell answered from farther away.

Then another.

Officers began shouting near the square.

"The southern positions are withdrawing!"

Vincent felt a sudden rush of attention and said, "Oh shit. They’re starting."

He grabbed Anastasia’s hand and moved, but slightly staggered.

He corrected his footing.

"Come on."

The two hurried toward the nearest watchtower as bells continued spreading across the Valley.

Vincent climbed the steps quickly and reached the top, moving toward the railing as distant torchlights shifted across the dark fields.

Now came the important part.

He wanted to see what these people were actually going to do.

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