Chapter 85
Opening a bank in Britain or mainland Europe was child's play. With his current liquid assets and Lord-tier status, it would be a walk in the park. But breaching the iron curtain of the distant Soviet Union? Capital and Clock Tower prestige alone wouldn't cut it.
Especially now, in 1987, when the state still held a suffocating monopoly on the market and international free trade was heavily restricted.
But difficult didn't mean impossible. It just meant he needed to pile more chips onto the table.
The winds of the West were already blowing through Moscow. The steel behemoth was still growing on paper, but its internal foundation was rotting.
Beneath the veneer of peace, oligarchs and corruption ran rampant. Maintaining their artificial exchange rates was bleeding them dry. Opening the market to free trade wasn't just a possibility; it was an absolute inevitability within the next few years.
And the moment that market opened...
Rimuru lowered his gaze, staring at the crisp pound notes in his hand. The power of unchecked capitalism would run wild. In the land of the proletariat, it would be an unstoppable force.
But he didn't just want the wealth that empire had hoarded for nearly a century. He wanted their unique Magecraft systems. Their suppressed knowledge. Their talent, both magical and mundane, scientific and technological.
Knowing the future, Rimuru understood a fundamental truth the traditional magi stubbornly denied: Mystery was decaying.
The future belonged to ordinary humans and their rapidly advancing science.
When weapons of mass destruction and high-tech arsenals reached their apex, magi wouldn't be able to just hide in their ivory towers anymore. If he wanted to save the humanity of this world, the two sides needed to collaborate, not slaughter each other in the shadows.
Of course, while he was busy rescuing knowledge and talent, he had absolutely no moral qualms about pillaging their wealth along the way. Better the money went into his pockets than to some random Wall Street vultures. After all, he used to be a comrade in his past life, right?
"I'll need Riddell's help for this. As an international hot money hub, the Archelot family's connections and bribery networks will be invaluable," Rimuru murmured, tapping his chin.
"Compared to the Americans, I'm sure the Soviets would much prefer dealing with British gentlemen... even if they're both just vultures."
He clicked his tongue. Leeching off his childhood friend's political and financial power was a bit shameless.
But damn, her money spent well.
...
While Professor Tempest was busy plotting corporate takeovers in London, the White Knight was finally getting results in Cornwall.
It was the fourth day since the Dead Apostles had claimed the county, and exactly twenty-four hours before the Clock Tower's Grand Resolution was set to convene.
Rimuru, who had been staring in a mirror and sighing over how ridiculously average his current disguise looked, received a good news/bad news update.
The good news: they found the scabbard.
The bad news: Merem Solomon was currently stealing it.
"See? I told you so," Altrouge gloated. She sat nearby, twirling a silver spoon in her teacup, her crimson eyes sparkling with absolute delight at his misfortune. "You have to fight him anyway. You should have just listened to me and killed him three days ago."
"Not necessarily," Rimuru mused. He stood up, looking at the trembling Duke of Cornwall who had brought the report. "Let's go. Lead the way."
"We didn't get to properly introduce ourselves last time. We're overdue for a chat."
The excavation site was exactly where Rimuru had predicted. It was an ancient, densely forested battlefield on the edge of Cornwall, one of only two locations the Einzbern family had formally petitioned the British government to excavate for archaeological research.
However, the digging hadn't gone smoothly at first. For three days, his undead workforce had turned up nothing but dirt, making Rimuru doubt his own intel.
But as the black mist rolled over the treeline and Rimuru arrived with the Black Princess in tow, it became glaringly obvious that the prize had been unearthed. And intercepted.
A wide circle of ghouls and low-tier Dead Apostles stood shivering in the mud, trapped between their orders to guard the site and their absolute terror of the boy standing in the center.
Merem Solomon ignored the snarling monsters completely. He stood calmly in the clearing, silently examining the gleaming, ancient scabbard in his hands.
It wasn't until the Dead Apostles scrambled out of the way, parting like the Red Sea, that Merem finally looked up. His bright blue eyes met the cold golden slits of Rimuru's Oni mask.
Taking in the eerie red patterns carved into the wood, Merem casually lowered the scabbard to his chest. "A holy relic steeped in ancient Mystery... So this is what you threw a global temper tantrum to acquire?"
"What else?" Rimuru chuckled softly. Unfortunately, the wooden mask completely hid his easygoing expression from the Divine Child. "Now that you've had a good look at it, do you mind giving it back?"
"For the sake of professional courtesy among the Twenty-Seven Ancestors, of course."
Merem blinked. "Give it back?"
"Yes. Back," Rimuru nodded, his tone perfectly reasonable. "After all, it is an ancestral heirloom of my bloodline. I know you have a penchant for hoarding ancient treasures and artifacts, but unfortunately..."
A blade of condensed, crimson blood materialized in Rimuru's hand.
"That specific item holds a very deep, personal significance to me."
"...Hah. Is that right." Merem arched a delicate eyebrow. A cold, cynical sneer spread across his eternally youthful face. "Since you feel so strongly about it... would the esteemed White Knight care to enlighten me?"
Merem traced a finger over the gold and blue enamel of the scabbard. "Whose relic exactly are you claiming this is?"
"Haven't you already figured it out?" Hearing the boy's sneer, Rimuru offered a helpless, exaggerated shrug.
"Look at the craftsmanship. Feel the sheer, overwhelming majesty radiating from it. On this specific island, whose scabbard could possibly command such reverence? Whose legacy would I go to such lengths to reclaim?"
Rimuru took a slow step forward. "You are a connoisseur of myth and treasure, Merem. You know exactly what legendary scabbard is buried in the soil of Britain."
"..."
Merem hadn't expected the masked man to double down so brazenly. The Divine Child froze, the cynical sneer wiping completely off his face. He tilted his head, staring at Rimuru in sheer, unadulterated bewilderment.
"Wait. You're not seriously claiming... to be a descendant of that King?!"
He had initially sneered because he was absolutely certain the White Knight was spouting complete and utter bullshit. But Rimuru's sheer, unwavering confidence was actually making him second-guess himself.
No way... is he actually telling the truth?
….
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