Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster Chapter 73

"You have all spoken with admirable honesty," Edward said, his voice echoing with a strange, calm resonance. "In a world of sycophants, I find such bluntness refreshing."

Edward’s words quickly halted the merchants in their steps as they were about to exit the hall.

They paused almost in unison. For a brief moment, none of them turned around. Then, slowly, they faced him again. Confusion flickered across their expressions. This was not one of the responses they had prepared for. In their minds, they had expected anger, desperation, or perhaps a defensive argument. What they had not expected was composure.

"The Vistro territory has indeed been profitable," Edward continued, his fingers lightly trailing along the polished edge of the mahogany table. His tone remained calm, measured, and steady. "And you are correct in one regard. The landscape has changed. However, let us examine facts instead of rumors, and numbers instead of fear. My harvest output for the current quarter has increased by twelve percent compared to the same period last year. Mineral exports from the northern mines remain stable, with no decline in production. Bandit activity along my borders has dropped significantly. In fact, my territory is more secure now than it has been in nearly a century."

He stepped forward, closing part of the distance between himself and the guild representatives. The sound of his boots against the marble floor echoed faintly through the hall.

Roland shifted in his posture as Edward approached him. The merchant adjusted the sleeve of his robe, an unconscious sign of discomfort.

"You speak of instability," Edward said quietly, though his voice carried clearly across the chamber. "Yet tell me this. Have you witnessed a single riot within my cities since I assumed authority? Have you received reports of caravans being ambushed inside my jurisdiction? Has any warehouse under my protection been looted or seized?"

None of the men answered.

Edward’s gaze sharpened slightly. "No. You have not. The instability you claim to fear does not originate from within my lands. It is external pressure. It is narrative. It is a convenient story being told in the capital by people who are not here, who do not manage trade routes, and who do not guard merchant caravans with their own soldiers."

He allowed a brief pause, letting the silence stretch just long enough to press on their thoughts.

"What you are reacting to is not disorder," he continued. "It is uncertainty manufactured by the Crown. You fear being seen as aligned with me because you believe that alignment carries risk. But consider this carefully. If you withdraw now, if you freeze your investments, you weaken the most economically productive territory in the northern region. And when production weakens, who suffers first? Not the Crown. Not the Church. It is your guilds."

Cedric’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he said nothing.

Edward clasped his hands behind his back once more. "You have operated in these lands for decades. You understand supply chains better than most nobles understand politics. Grain from my fields feeds three major cities. Ore from my mountains supports weapon forges as far as the western border. Timber from my forests reinforces royal ships. If my territory falters, the northern economy contracts. If the northern economy contracts, your profits shrink."

He looked at each of them in turn.

"I am not asking you to oppose the Crown. I am not asking you to take sides in court politics. I am simply asking you to recognize that stability here benefits you more than symbolic distance from me ever could."

Roland cleared his throat softly, his earlier certainty no longer as firm as before.

Edward continued, his tone still even. "You call me young. That is fair. I am young. But youth does not erase numbers, nor does it change the reality of production. Judge me by performance, not by rumor. Judge this territory by output, not by whispers."

The hall remained silent, but the atmosphere had shifted. The merchants were no longer walking away. They were listening.

"And as for the Crown," Edward added calmly, "if they truly wished to sever northern trade, they would have done so already. Instead, they apply pressure without breaking the structure. That tells you something important. They need this region functioning. As long as that is true, your business here remains not only viable, but essential."

He stopped speaking.

This time, the silence that followed was not dismissive. It was contemplative.

Cedric Vale narrowed his eyes. "The Crown is never ’too far away,’ young man."

Edward turned to face him, a thin, cold smile playing on his lips. "The Crown is currently obsessed with the Atlantis campaign. You all know this. The King is preparing to send every Adept-level combatant across the sea. Resources will be drained. The capital’s attention will be focused on the horizon, not on the northern trade routes."

The mention of Atlantis caused a visible stir. It was the open secret of the empire—a massive, resource-heavy military expedition that threatened to hollow out the kingdom’s treasury.

"In times of external war," Edward said, his voice dropping an octave, "internal trade becomes the only thing that keeps a kingdom from starving. If you withdraw your guilds now, you create a vacuum. And in business, as in nature, a vacuum is always filled."

He walked back to the head of the table and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Mathis Doran.

"If the ’Big Three’ decide the Vistro lands are too risky, I will simply open my gates to the smaller guilds. The independent traders. The ones who are hungry enough to ignore the Crown’s scowl for a chance at the Vistro’s mineral wealth. I might even look toward foreign interests.

"Foreign interests are heavily regulated. You wouldn’t dare."

"Regulations are merely suggestions when the alternative is economic stagnation," Edward countered. "I am giving you the opportunity to secure favorable terms while your competitors are still shivering in their boots. But if you prefer to wait for ’clarity,’ do not be surprised when you find the door locked upon your return."

The silence that followed was different than before. It wasn’t the silence of dismissal; it was the silence of calculation. Cedric Vale studied Edward with a newfound intensity. He realized then that the boy wasn’t a puppet. He was a gambler who knew exactly what cards everyone else was holding.

"You speak boldly," Cedric said, his voice now cautious. "But boldness does not pay the guards or insure the ships."

"I speak realistically," Edward replied. "I am not asking for your loyalty. I am asking for your greed. My lands are productive, my administration is efficient, and I am the man holding the keys. You can work with me, or you can watch from the sidelines as others grow wealthy on the scraps you left behind."

Cedric looked at Roland and Mathis. He saw the doubt in their eyes—not doubt of Edward, but doubt of their own decision to pull away.

"Our position stands... for now," Cedric said, though the iron in his voice had turned to lead. "We will not expand our agreements today. Existing contracts will be honored until their term ends. We shall observe the situation for another month."

Edward bowed his head slightly. "That is perfectly acceptable. I prefer a clear ’no’ to a false ’yes.’"

The three representatives gathered their documents and robes. Their exit was far less dignified than their entry; they hurried, whispering among themselves, their earlier arrogance replaced by a frantic need to re-evaluate their ledgers.

As the heavy doors thudded shut behind them, Thaleia finally let out a breath she had been holding for twenty minutes.

"That... was a gamble, My Lord. If they had called your bluff about the foreign interests, we would have been isolated."

Edward looked out the high windows at the sprawling green hills of his territory. His face was devoid of the triumph she expected.

"It wasn’t a gamble, Thaleia," Edward said softly. "They didn’t agree to my terms today, but they are no longer certain of their own. In a negotiation, the man who is certain always wins."

He turned away from the window, his mind already three steps ahead.

"They didn’t declare open opposition. They chose to wait. And for the pieces I am moving, a delay is just as good as a victory."