How to Live as a Tyrant’s Spoiled Brat Chapter 367

(367)

Mecharis, the capital of the Emirate of Amir, was a city located on the largest river in the Southern Continent.

As a transportation hub that allowed easy access from the eastern coast, a center of trade, to the western inland, which was full of undeveloped lands, it was perhaps natural that Mekaris grew into one of the world's leading metropolises and that its ruler became the strongest nation in the Southern Continent.

Because it was an area rich in red stone, which was hard but easy to work with, and red clay, which became very hard when baked, the city's large and small buildings were all a faded red color.

Of course, if it was a palace as big as the Sultan's, the roof could have been made of colored glass or expensive imported materials.

But the Sultans of the past, including Baphom, loved the endless onion-shaped roofs and the red cityscape more than anyone else, so even the grandest palaces and temples were the same color as the buildings on the street.

The audience room of the Red Palace.

Columns soaring high into the sky stretched long and narrow from side to side, and the savage yet sacred patterns carved on the columns trembled as if they would move at any moment, while the huge tapestry hanging on the north wall sparkled in the sunlight pouring in from the south.

The tapestry was embroidered with threads tinged with gold and silver, and the light and shade were cleverly adjusted to make the picture appear three-dimensional when exposed to light.

So, anyone who walks along the corridor and meets the Sultan is overwhelmed three times.

You marvel at the red pillars and the contrasting blue sky, lose yourself in the sculptures that seem to descend from the sky and writhe, and when you reach the brilliantly shining tapestries, you are completely captivated.

In this way, they become unable to distinguish between earth and heaven, and end up accepting the Sultan's orders as if they were divine commands.

But the sight of that sacred and magnificent palace did not appeal to those who visited it every day and those who lived there.

Sultan Baphomer summoned General Demedin, who was training the Berserkers, and unleashed his volcanic rage.

“General! Did I hear that correctly just now?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Say something other than sorry! Do you think it makes sense that three Berserkers couldn’t even kill 1,000 men?”

General Demedin was a man with a handsome yellow beard, an excellent warrior, and a great commander.

As he was in charge of the most powerful warriors in each Amir's emirate, he had a high status even among the generals, but right now he was at a loss for words even if he had ten mouths.

“……I’m sorry.”

When I received the report from Sejak who entered the new city, the number of people killed by the three light warriors was only a few hundred.

The amount of manpower and materials consumed to raise the Berserker, a 'completely mutant level eroder that maintains reason', was enormous.

Before the three light warriors were raised, there must have been over a hundred dead warriors.

Sending three of those talented people and getting such results was something that drove General Demedin crazy and delirious.

'They weren't warriors who would be so consumed.'

Just as the Sultan was about to shout something again, the woman standing next to him cautiously intervened.

“Father, Your Majesty. Please stop your anger. The general seems to be very embarrassed by this situation.”

She was the Sultan's only remaining daughter, Naseria.

Beyond the thin white veil, elegant long gray hair and intelligent, ambitious violet eyes stood out.

Although his impression was sharp with his upturned eyes and the corners of his mouth, his healthy, tanned, firm arms and his slim waist like a leopard's, this impression actually added to his unique charm.

She resembled a well-trained warrior, but the clothes she was wearing were a long, flowing one-piece dress made of white cloth.

The gold earrings and bracelets that drew large rings, the gold belt that cinched the waist of her dress, and the gold anklets that jingled whenever she walked suited her quite well, but they also looked like chains that tied a bird.

The Sultan responded to her cautious advice.

“Shut your mouth, Naseria.”

“I'm talking about information-.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up? Get out. When you’re next to me, I just keep hearing useless talk.”

Naseria bit her lip as if she wanted to say something.

But the Sultan's stubborn expression would not change, and she left the audience room with her shoulders slumped.

The moment Naseria and General Demedin crossed paths, the general muttered as if he felt sorry for her.

“……Why do you say that?”

* * *

Naseria went out of the audience room, closed the door, and immediately sat down behind it, listening.

"……warlord."

"your majesty……."

The voices of the Sultan and the general could be heard here and there.

She squeezed her purple eyes shut.

The lively and passionate face was distorted to the point where it could be recognized even through the veil.

'I want to work too!'

She too inherited the blood of the Sultanate, was driven by an innate ambition, and accepted that trembling not with fear but with excitement.

How old were you when you first became interested in politics and governance?

When she was eight years old, she had a dream in which she saw Sultan Baphomet surrounded by his ministers and discussing state affairs.

'Nanny. What should I do to become a good Sultan like my father?'

Instead of answering, 'Princess, a woman cannot become a sultan,' the nanny said.

'If the princess proves that she can do it well, won't the Sultan change his mind and appoint the princess as his successor?'

He whispered.

Thinking back now, I think it was probably something said to calm the child down.

It must have been difficult to say 'no' to a girl whose purple eyes sparkled with excitement from all over the world.

But at that time, Naseria was too young.

'really?'

Even at a young age, he possessed the ability and drive of a Sultan.

I read books, asked questions to renowned scholars, and inspected local areas several times under the pretense of seeing flowers.

'I think we can get started?'

Four years passed and the 12-year-old boy began to walk.

'Father, Your Majesty, I want to establish a poorhouse. I want to solve the problem of starvation among the poor.'

'The princess is doing something worthy of the Sultan family. Yes. Good.'

Large cities were populous, and in an agricultural society, any population density beyond a certain level was a burden.

To help the poor, Naseria used her private funds to build a poorhouse.

Of course, the poorhouse wasn't built to hand out food or anything like that.

She and her soldiers rounded up the healthy poor on the streets, threw them into workhouses, and led them to fill the marshlands near the capital, where epidemics broke out every few years. She then hired the poor as tenant farmers on the land she had acquired, and replenished her wealth.

It wasn't something you would do in a normal workhouse.

'Naseria! What are you doing?'

The Sultan was so surprised that he ran up to me and asked.

At that time, she answered, thinking it was a compliment.

'I have solved the problem of starvation among the poor, Your Majesty.'

'He asked what the woman was doing outside with the soldiers.'

The workhouse business was passed on to her nameless stepbrother, and she became a sacrificial offering for a marriage alliance adorned with the fancy name of 'progressive diplomacy with the emirs serving the great ones.'

It was his job to meet with the children of other emirs under the pretext of diplomacy.

Of course, Naseria did not give up.

'Really? Is there such a way?'

'Yes. Those evil Solettaras guys-.'

'We do it too!'

I found a new job while meeting with the young master of a family bordering Soletaras.

By digging into soft rock layers underground, underground reservoirs can be created, which are much less polluted and evaporate less than on-land reservoirs.

Using the underground space, the temperature difference could be used to collect moisture, and that moisture could be used to create large-scale mushroom farms.

Based on this information, I created several designs over the years, verified them to be true, and sold them to the amirs of the dry regions.

In return, he lowered tariffs, bringing great profits to the trading cities owned by the Sultanate.

'You will make a truly wonderful wife.'

'It would be amazing to not be able to do one household.'

But the Sultan still saw her only as a daughter who would serve him well.

'shit.'

I think that was the first time I drank alcohol that day.

'I want to become a Sultan too, and I want to fight Soletaras!'

'Stop thinking about such useless things and just think about getting married to a good person.'

When it became known that Naseria was doing real diplomacy in the 'developmental diplomacy with the emirs who serve the great ones', the Sultan put her in semi-imprisonment.

And from what I've been saying lately, it seems like he'll soon be stripped of that empty diplomatic post.

'I have to score a goal quickly.'

Naseria bit her nails nervously.

Actually, I knew it.

It was an impossible dream from the beginning.

But we've come too far to give up.

Then the Sultan called her from inside the audience room.

“I know you’re here. Naseria! Come in!”

* * *

When I entered the audience room, I saw several messengers bowing their heads before the Sultan.

'I thought I was going to get yelled at.'

Contrary to expectations, the Sultan was smiling broadly.

Baphomer asked the messengers.

“Exile?”

The messengers nodded their heads repeatedly and answered.

“Yes. I heard that he escaped from the port at the end.”

The Sultan stroked his long beard.

“I heard recently that the scoundrel Archduke of Soletaras has been running wild over there. How great of a prince is he?”

“He claims to be a member of the imperial family, ranked within the 30th place in the line of succession.”

“30th place?”

Naseria also took a deep breath.

The Emperor of the Empire had many children, like stars, and among them, being ranked 30th was quite high, and now that the Great Purge has occurred, he may even be in the top 3.

“They say they can also provide information on various situations in the empire.”

Baphomer frowned for a moment.

Her purple eyes, similar to Naseria's, were clouded with worry.

For a moment, he smiled and nodded, then looked at Naseria.

“Naseria. Teach him our language.”

Naseria learned several languages with the intention of working as a diplomat.

I couldn't just pretend I couldn't do it.

“If you coax her well, you will be able to find out more information about the empire. It will also help stabilize the public sentiment in the occupied territories. Persuasion is more important than torture. It will also be able to deal a blow to the legitimacy of that witch who is the Emperor of Soletaras.”

She bowed her head respectfully to the Sultan.

“Yes, Your Majesty, Father.”

Actually, I knew it.

This meant that he would be locked up in the palace all day, teaching him to speak.

Of course, there was no such thing as the right to refuse in the first place.

It was also fortunate that he was not stripped of his diplomatic post.

'Let me see your face.'

She slipped out of the audience room before the Sultan changed his mind and headed to the second floor of a small palace attached to the Sultan's palace.

It was originally a place where honored guests visiting the Sultan stayed, and he said he would also stay there.

'To allow the royal family of Soletaras to enter that palace? No. Are they really honored guests?'

The palace, too, had a red building, but its spacious garden was filled with grass, dark green trees, and colorful flowers.

Amidst the sound of an artificial stream, Naseria headed towards the room where the royal family was staying.

“Bring back Princess Naseria.”

The soldier shouted loudly, and the door opened from inside.

Squeak.

For a moment, Naseria forgot how to breathe.

'uh……?'

Outside the window, amidst the green tree branches that were beautifully hanging down, there was a man who seemed to have a clear color all alone in this dreary city.

Her glossy black hair was slightly grown out and tied into a short ponytail, her yellow eyes like amethyst were clearer than the sky, and her soft eye corners and sad smile never seemed to fall from her retina.

He was wearing a clingy black shirt.

His shoulders were broad, his body was thin but sturdy, and his waist was as flexible as a leopard's.

I can confidently say that he was the most handsome man I have ever seen.

“Hello, Your Highness.”

A refreshing and clean scent wafted through the air.

It seemed as if the branches of the trees outside the window had fallen for him.