Cooperation

By the time I returned to the inn, Sen's group had joined them and was in the middle of eating.

Just looking at their faces, I could tell how exhausted they were, so I was curious what the hell they'd been up to, but Sen, brushing it off as just legwork, casually summarized what they'd achieved.

"You don't need to worry about supplies. After walking around, it turned out most of the merchants are keeping it hush anyway."

Since they were, in the end, people who did business with adventurers, not much different from innkeepers, that much was obvious. But the issue wasn't whether trading was possible.

"What about price negotiations? In a situation like this, seems like you could drive a hard bargain and then some."

Even if a merchant didn't give a single shit about this incident, they were still merchants. If just feigning a little inconvenience could give them the upper hand in haggling, they'd do it. Given the timing, if they started pressuring with things like 'people will side-eye me for dealing with adventurers, you know' or 'these aren't actually stolen goods, are they?'—the middling adventurers, overwhelmed by the city's cold shoulder, were highly likely to take a loss and still make the deal.

"You don't need to worry about that either. You could call it the result of the trust we've built up in this city and our negotiating, eheheh!"

Still, I supposed a native red-rank adventurer's years of experience counted for something, because Sen answered with confidence and laughed. The others didn't seem particularly uneasy about her big talk either, so it looked like there was no need to worry. Settling in among those leisurely tilting their cups, thinking it was a relief that at least one worry was resolved, Mr. Gin lightly tossed out a question.

"Right, so did your snooping around go well?"

"Yes, well, it's still just scratching the surface at best, but I did gather some immediately necessary information."

As a result, the number of problems to think about had increased, but I didn't bother telling the party that.

If this really was an issue tied to Envelde, it wasn't something we should intervene in—the city or the royal house should step in under the pretext of mopping up the remnants of the rebel faction. Given how steadily the royal house had been stacking up reasons to purge Envelde, they wouldn't overlook this kind of situation either.

But for the city of Englem and those managing it, it was a separate problem. If it had simply been an attack, they could have asked the capital for aid as much as needed to cover defense costs, but as things stood, the city's defenses had been breached by what were, on the surface, mere bandits, using methods they hadn't anticipated and didn't even understand.

Judging purely by results, it was a clear case of incompetence. I couldn't know what kind of relationship they had with the royal house, but if they'd been neglecting to maintain friendly gestures, it was obvious they'd face backlash and royal intervention to a serious degree.

So they were trying to get the guild's cooperation and handle it at the adventurer level, concealing the responsibility. Because giving up a share of profits to the adventurer's guild would cost them far less than royal coercion. When I established that hypothesis, the picture seemed to roughly come together.

"All this calculating of gains and losses on the political stage, what a load of shit."

It was so damn frustrating that I kept getting tangled up in these things when I could barely even look after my own body, and I unconsciously swept my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hair back and muttered. But the thousand-and-one Eldmias inside my head were far more interested in future developments than in lamenting their own lot.

The reward for the secret request Sen had mentioned was by no means a small sum. But assuming most of those prior hypotheses were correct, no matter how high the reward was, it was paltry compared to the profit the bastards hell-bent on protecting their own rice bowls would take.

Others might feel differently, but from my standpoint, I'd gain far more by simply sending a letter to Duke Lesrom, informing him of the situation and taking the credit. There was no reason to deliberately do business at a loss.

The problem was, if I left this matter unattended even for a short while for those reasons, nobody could say how much damage ordinary people would suffer. If they'd been ordinary thieves, I'd have just boldly paid them no mind, but as Asilie had said, if even one of them was holding something akin to a Demon Sword, it was like a time bomb hiding in the city that could go off at any moment.

This, too, was something I'd normally only be a little sorry about and wouldn't particularly care about, but there, the already-dead Envelde had done a fucking spectacular job.

The thought that they might be bastards tied to that son of a bitch had started to sour my mood.

What if those bastards fled alive? What if, because of that, Envelde's remaining forces successfully raised hell somewhere unknown again? What if those bastards gathered and started rampaging for their own selfish gain? What if that got tangled with Envelde followers I didn't know about and they made a commotion about starting another rebellion?

Leaps of logic didn't even begin to describe it, but just imagining it made my blood boil. They were bastards who'd be nothing but a hindrance to the peaceful life I deserved.

"What are you agonizing over so much, Eldmia?"

At the sound of my name, I snapped to attention and raised my head to see Yekaterina looking at me, her eyes rolling quizzically. No, to be precise, the whole party was looking at me. It seemed I'd been lost too long in my own private worries.

"Just a bit tired, I suppose. I've been caught up in incidents nonstop lately, after all."

There was no need to complain here just because my blood was boiling. I deflected with a decent excuse and smiled.

"True enough. You did fight a demon, so that's more than enough reason. Maybe it'd be better to sleep a little early just for today."

I nodded at Asilie's suggestion and agreed.

Right, I couldn't solve all the world's problems, there was no need to get too deeply involved. If they didn't want to die, they'd figure it out and handle it themselves.

To stop my thoughts from deepening further, I hastily reached a conclusion, finished my meal, and went up to my room first to rest.

◈

The Englem Adventurer's Guild, compared to other adventurer's guilds, was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a place that could exert quite considerable influence over the city.

Thanks to diverse collaborations with merchants, there were many items you could get at a discount, and the variety of requests was great too. Because of that, adventurer numbers were also high, so the average unit price of requests was somewhat lower compared to other cities, but due to the ample quantity of work, that level of downside barely registered with adventurers.

A place where you could earn sufficiently as long as you kept up steady activity, even if it was a bit tough at first. Englem had established itself in that position for adventurers.

A major part in that was played by the guild master Geuronzel, who had been active as guild master for decades and cultivated connections with many figures. Contrary to his appearance—salt-and-pepper, slightly wavy hair grown just long enough to comb back, making him look like an ordinary middle-aged adventurer in retirement—he was one of the city's most successful individuals.

The problem was that all of it was the result not of honest and diligent activity, but of a bribery offensive based on wealth built through collusion, skimming request fees, and cutting rewards using the large volume of work as an excuse.

His mind was sharp enough in its own way, but he was by no means a clean character, and he had acted with the same attitude regarding this attack. It hadn't been particularly difficult, since the royal house tended to hold the officials of a city built atop the ancient underground waterways strictly accountable for their management.

The expression on the lord's face upon hearing the news—that bandits had infiltrated the city through waterways that had been practically neglected for years, attempted plunder, failed, and committed mass ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slaughter in the process of fleeing—was a spectacle worth remembering for a lifetime. Including the way his face instantly lit up after hearing the contents Geuronzel presented.

He had intentionally distorted the story and hired people to spread false rumors that an adventurer blinded by money had aided the bandits during the attack. Using that as an opportunity, he had assisted collusion between certain inns and merchants and taken part of the profits as commission. He had left major debts among the nobles and high-ranking officials. The money skimmed from cemetery and funeral costs was also quite lucrative. To Geuronzel, this attack was nothing but a goose that laid golden eggs.

The same went for the bandits who had driven that goose into his hands.

For reasons unknown, because the underground waterway passage that had allowed them to secretly enter from outside had collapsed, the bastards were utterly trapped inside the maze-like waterways. At first, he had considered simply disposing of them to pile up public achievements and gain fame, but Geuronzel had devised a method to suck even those bandits dry to the marrow.

Under his plan, the bandits' location was deliberately concealed, a blockade order was issued for the city, and the remaining adventurers were left in a situation where they kept spending money until matters were settled. Geuronzel planned, at an opportune moment, to resolve the bandits and issue a large quantity of requests with slashed rewards to the cash-strapped adventurers. The profit margin generated there would naturally become his personal asset.

So far so good, but the problem was that even though the cleanup timing was gradually approaching, there was no suitable tool at hand.

There was only one reason they were having difficulty cleaning up a bunch of mere bandits: a Demon Sword user.

He had no idea where the hell he'd gotten it, but the bandit chief possessed that rare and precious treasure, and had failed to control it. Geuronzel harbored no particular ill will about that fact.

Rather, he was grateful. It had made the job easier. Now he simply intended to clear it away since its purpose was served. There wasn't a single shred of personal feeling involved.

As he was mulling it over, with fucking fantastic timing, an adventurer whose skills were verified arrived from outside.

The adventurer, so highly evaluated that the capital's guild master personally vouched for his credit, was called Eldmia Ega. As soon as he heard that, on top of that, the man hadn't come alone but brought ten red-rank adventurers with him, Geuronzel's mind had spun at rapid speed.

But even though he presented a reward that would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠make an ordinary adventurer's eyes light up with greed, the man refused the request. Listening to the staff's report, it seemed the cause was the amount of loot, enough to be fully loaded onto eleven horses. It wouldn't compare to the sum Geuronzel offered, but most adventurers were, by nature, the type who didn't prepare for the future once their bellies were full, so it was not incomprehensible.

In that case, making them hungry would do the trick. Since Geuronzel had absolutely no intention of letting go of a tool that had opportunely caught his eye, he began pondering how to make them desperate as quickly as possible.

Among the information sent by the capital's guild master, there was even a section titled 'Notes on Unusual Thought Patterns and the Resulting Sudden Actions,' but he paid it no mind.

It was a calamity brought on by his own confidence that he could handle anything according to his conviction that people were all the same in the end.