Karma
Karma
Count Envelde da Bosha.
That was the true identity of the rampaging wild boar.
"Aristocrats have a strong tendency to believe their actions can remain secret, even while employing countless servants. Some think they've perfectly concealed the truth just by hiring outside personnel and disposing of them afterward. Even I, who've been this cautious, got my tail caught by such an absurd coincidence—so how could anyone believe such sloppy measures prevent information leaks?"
I wasn't sure whether his head had somehow been injured along with his legs when I broke them, or whether he'd acquired extraordinary intelligence through sheer effort, but Zikmel had become damn eloquent.
And it wasn't just talk—his thinking was incredibly logical, and he'd even learned to maintain remarkable objectivity. Among all the people I'd seen over the years, he was easily one of the smartest.
Was this really the Zikmel I knew? My heart swelled with pride, truly. Just how viciously hard had he studied to change this much in only four years?
"In that sense, Envelde is an exceptionally clever noble. He carries out important matters only directly or through close confidants, and periodically rotates his servants. Through this method, he seems to cultivate new talent into inner-circle retainers... and he does it naturally enough that nothing appears amiss at a casual glance. One would dismiss it as mere aristocratic caprice."
He even exploited the biases that came with his position, and he didn't stint on spending money on people.
That was roughly the assessment Zikmel delivered.
"So information is truly scarce. Those hoping to latch onto him and scavenge whatever byproducts fall off do have some information, however..."
"That's enough."
"Excuse me?"
"I can't touch that bastard anyway because of the temporary non-aggression pact. I just need information on the others. Nothing general, either—only the illegal stuff you mentioned earlier. I'll buy it."
"Huh? Buy it?"
"You're an information broker. Nothing in life is free."
If they were half-assed threats, that would be one thing, but as long as I was treated properly as a client, I was infinitely generous. Past wrongs? We'd already settled that with two broken legs back then. I wasn't some petty bastard who'd keep dragging it up.
"Still, taking money from Eldmia is a bit..."
"I won't draw a blade just because you name your price. Fair work, fair pay. Besides, your information definitely holds value to me."
Still, Zikmel dithered, his past trauma apparently weighing on him. Normally I'd have smacked him upside the head, but since he was a positive beneficiary of belief instillation, I let it slide.
So he'd realized his own helplessness before vastly superior violence and walked the path of an information broker... People really did change when pushed to extremes.
"But how do you determine the price? Is there some kind of industry standard?"
Normally, revealing ignorance in a situation like this wouldn't be ideal, but this guy was so thoroughly cowed that I doubted he'd try to gouge me like some swindler, so I just asked outright. The answer came immediately.
"Information of that sort typically only exists among brokers who deal with adventurers. When it comes to noble gossip and intelligence between merchant houses, it's worthless rags in the hands of a clueless fool, but shines brilliantly when placed with someone who knows its true worth."
"So the seller names the price?"
"More or less. For any standard to form, wouldn't those selling the same intelligence need to communicate or have dealings with each other? But nobles and merchant houses are the sort who consider it cheaper to just kill someone when things truly go sour—it's an extremely dangerous line of thinking."
"That does track, now that you mention it."
Even if Zikmel himself could stay safe, if his informants kept getting killed off, nothing would get done. A professional line of thinking befitting an industry insider.
"Even so, this information isn't terribly expensive relative to its importance. If the royal family commissioned it, or a request tied to the Adventurers' Guild came in, the price might skyrocket. But at least in my judgment, there's no connection to those parties here."
The people who could profit from it couldn't manufacture a just cause from scraps of overheard gossip, and to everyone else, there wasn't even profit to be had.
"Fine by me. First: close to the capital. Second: operating as secretly as possible. Third: illegal. Anything matching those conditions?"
"There is... indeed. They're tied to slave merchants."
What? Slave merchants? What the hell was this nonsense?
"Wait, near the capital? Slave merchants? Did slave trading somehow become legal while I wasn't paying attention?"
"Ah, well—the slave trade within the kingdom and the enslavement of its own citizens are illegal, but the law doesn't deny the existence of slaves purchased abroad. These people specialize in exploiting wartime chaos to capture people for sale, then using layers of forged paperwork to pass them off as foreign slaves. Given that they only began growing in earnest about three years ago, it looks like they took advantage of royal oversight becoming lax as the war dragged on."
Wow, truly fucking amazing. Well, sustaining a war for seven years wasn't easy, I supposed.
As a modern person who'd lived through the 21st century, this was intolerable.
I'd make them taste the rage of a former corporate wage slave.
"But will you be alright? These people do have ties to the nobility, after all."
While I was honing my inner blade of fury, Zikmel gauged my reaction and spoke up. And his response was, of course, perfectly sensible.
Even if they were traitors, no one was paying for it, and the opponent was fundamentally a noble.
If you raided their secretly raised forces, all you'd come away with was whatever was in their pockets. If you raided a slave market, all you'd get at best was the pockets of the guards on duty or the mercenaries hired by the slave merchants.
In the former case, all the traitors' assets had to be forfeited to the national treasury. In the latter, the illegal slave traders' assets had to go as compensation to any surviving slaves. Sure, you could quietly pocket some of it, but considering the scale, it couldn't possibly be a profitable business.
And on top of that, it naturally wasn't easy. As befitting people engaged in illegal activity, they spent heavily on security too.
Of course, that wasn't my concern now.
"What do I care? You said they're connected to Envelde? Then I'll make it fucking miserable for them."
Eating away from the bottom up didn't suit my temperament, but since I couldn't touch Envelde directly, I wasn't in a position to be picky.
Leaving those bastards alone meant profit for Envelde anyway, didn't it? No way in hell I could abide that.
"Just how are you entangled in... never mind. I suspect it's better I don't know."
"Watching you gather information, you'll probably find out everything eventually anyway."
Because a storm of blood was about to blow through.
◈
The price Zikmel asked for the information was four silver coins. Honestly, it wasn't a small sum. That was nearly a month's food expenses for an adult man.
When considered as the value of intelligence gathered by mobilizing people, it might have been a price that didn't even cover costs. But as he'd explained, information didn't come in a clean 'one activity, one piece of intel!' format, so it wasn't always that simple.
Of course, from my perspective, factoring in that I'd made contact with an information broker normally out of reach, and that this was highly useful intelligence for my current situation, the result was more than satisfactory.
"This is just me informing you, but I'm told someone has been tailing you since you arrived at our shop."
"Yeah. I know. Two men, two women. They still out there?"
"Yes. They've kept some distance, but they're definitely watching."
I wondered if they planned to finish this today, but since he'd been commendable enough to give me a heads-up, I tossed in one more silver coin. Zikmel, who'd passed it on as a bonus to the subordinate who'd reported it, rummaged through the wooden display shelves and handed over three or four rings and necklaces.
"Since our storefront is nominally just a jewelry shop, please take a few accessories so it appears that way when you leave."
"These cost money too, you bastard."
"Oh, please. They're cheap trinkets nobles like to use when trying to pick up women. Worth a few copper coins at most—just take them."
Unlike his initial twitchy, nervous demeanor, now that a fair price had been paid, Zikmel's attitude toward me had relaxed a little. I was relieved to know I'd probably avoided the unfortunate scenario of returning the next day to find my hard-won information broker had closed up shop.
"Thank you for your visit, valued customer! Farewell!"
As Zikmel's subordinates shouted their farewells at full volume, I gave a casual wave and checked the shop's sign.
"Mud Pearl, huh. Not bad."
They sold it as secondhand precious metals, so it could be taken as meaning a pearl buried in mud. From a fencing perspective, the goods were never clean to begin with, so it was an apt metaphor. And when viewed through the lens of buying and selling information, it fit beautifully as well.
Just as Zikmel had said, information only showed its true worth in the hands of someone who truly knew how to wield it. Whether the kid had attended a naming academy or had deliberately chosen this trade, he'd named the place damn well.
"Now then, what to do about these leech-like bastards..."
If they were completely unarmed, that'd be one thing, but the fact that they were carrying swords bothered me. I wanted to confirm for myself whether the swords were merely for self-defense or whether they were prepared to shank someone if things went sideways.
"Any decent alleyways around here?"
Unlike places like Ogwen, finding a secluded back alley in a city properly maintained as a nation's capital was a genuinely difficult task. It wasn't that they didn't exist, but since the city guard frequently patrolled such areas, they occupied a deeply ambiguous position where calling them truly deserted was a stretch.
Once I subdued them, it'd take some time to extract information, and running into the guard force while enthusiastically cracking skulls would be a major problem. But if I went somewhere too convoluted, they'd catch on unless they were complete morons.
"Tch... If I don't figure out who these bastards are, I probably won't sleep tonight."
I was losing my mind. I was losing my mind. I felt like going out for lunch... Hm? Wait.
If I couldn't lure them in and crush them, couldn't I just tail them back to their base and wreck the place instead?
Eureka! Now that was a shift in perspective!