Chapter 303 - 275: The Winery’s Business

Chapter 303: Chapter 275: The Winery’s Business

"Military funds?" Count Valentine gently swirled the red wine in his glass. The movement released the vintage’s rich bouquet, filling the air with an intoxicating aroma. "What is the Prince talking about?"

"Let’s be direct, Count Valentine," Theodore said, a smirk touching his lips as he leaned back against the velvet sofa. He raised his glass in a distant toast to the Count. "I know why you’ve come to see me, and you certainly know why I started our correspondence by feigning interest in the rumored mysterious Races of the Nightmare Forest."

Count Valentine did not look at the Third Prince, instead staring at the red wine in his hand. "This wine is quite good, but it must have been vinted near Plantagenet City. It’s also been cellared for too long. A bit dated."

Theodore paused for a moment, then instantly grasped the Count’s meaning. He smiled, his eyes narrowing in veiled mockery of the other man’s caution, even in his private drawing-room. "Yes, it is a bit dated. But that winery is enormous. It has squeezed out all the other wineries around Plantagenet City, and as a result, none of them can sell their wine in the Royal City."

"Though I live here, this is the only kind of wine I can drink. But," he patted the arm of the sofa lightly, "if I keep drinking this wine, I might one day drink a bottle that’s gone bad and die an obscure death. I just want to drink good wine—preferably, wine from a winery I built myself."

"But I’ve heard many people are quite fond of that winery. They’re all wealthy men who have bought shares and gotten involved." Valentine turned his head to look at the Third Prince, his gaze holding not a trace of respect. If it weren’t for his royal status, the Prince’s earlier bluntness would have been enough for Auberto to draw his sword and strike him down on the spot.

"Yes, they have a lot of money, which is why I need to raise some seed capital. Building a winery is very difficult," Theodore said, taking a sip of red wine. "If I don’t make a significant initial investment, the other wineries around the Royal Capital will be unwilling to follow my lead."

Valentine fell silent. He didn’t answer immediately, instead gazing at the wine glass in his hand. After a few seconds, he suddenly asked, "If I invest in this winery, what’s in it for me?"

The Third Prince, Theodore, smiled but said nothing. He set down his glass, reached for the wine bottle on the coffee table, and leaned over to personally pour a glass for Count Valentine. He filled it almost to the brim, leaving just a sliver of space at the top. According to the etiquette of the nobility, pouring wine this way was extremely rude, typically done only to mock someone as a greedy, insatiable person.

But as Valentine looked at the nearly overflowing glass before him, he showed no displeasure at all. Instead, he smiled, raised the glass, and took a large gulp.

He understood the gesture’s hidden meaning. ’For me to pour your wine is a sign of respect. To have the future king pour your wine means you will enter the center of power, no longer a remote Border Count far from the political heartland. By filling your glass this full, I am showing you that I will give you far more than you desire. But I have not filled it to the very top. I have left some space. You are still a subject, and you must respect your future king.’

’Little fox,’ Valentine cursed inwardly. "How many potential investors does Your Highness’s winery have at present?"

Theodore set down the bottle without refilling his own glass. He simply smiled at Valentine, not answering the question, just watching him with that same smile.

"Fine." Valentine understood the meaning behind the smile: ’Don’t ask what you’re not meant to know.’ A flicker of annoyance passed through him. He knew that while the Prince needed him now, he needed the Prince more. Expanding his domain was only possible through the Third Prince. If he dared to attack the neighboring lords’ territories without orders, he would easily incur a punitive decree from the Royal Family. "So, this stuff can really be used for mili—"

Theodore didn’t let Valentine finish. He raised a single finger to his lips. "This stuff makes money. A lot of money."

Valentine’s mouth twitched. ’So, I’m not the one allowed to say the words "military funds,"’ he thought. ’Is this a warning, or is he just burying his head in the sand? The Third Prince can say it, but I can’t. He’s clearly still wary of something.’

He held his wine glass, leaned back slightly, and glanced around the room, feigning admiration for the drawing-room’s decor.

"Relax. There are no uninvolved parties here." Theodore glanced at the fully armed guard, Auberto, standing to the side. "I’m just reminding you that the winery has many salespeople. You could say they are everywhere. So be careful not to casually mention wanting to try a different kind of wine."

Count Valentine frowned and took a silent sip of his red wine.

The Third Prince saw the Count’s expression and knew his posturing had been effective enough. He raised his glass again. "The profitability of this item will exceed your wildest imagination. I imagine on Perfume Lily Avenue alone, the goods brought by that ’old gentleman’ of yours would be snatched up in an instant. More importantly, this product is one of a kind. So, if I’m the one selling it, couldn’t I also have a little chat with the beautiful people who move among the old nobility?"

Count Valentine raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t considered that. ’It seems you can feel like a spymaster just by selling an aphrodisiac.’

"Besides, I imagine many other big cities have their own Perfume Lily Avenues. Do you think the wealthy people there need this sort of thing?" Leaning forward, the Third Prince reached into the open bag on the coffee table. He pinched a small amount of Red Bull Powder between two fingers, rubbing them together and letting the powder fall back into the bag.