Chapter 200
Chapter 200
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: Fang Goblet
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As expected, the Karabel Merchant Group arrived in Rundalian around noon the next day. Warm sunlight poured down just enough to melt the snow. It was still cold enough for breath to fog from their mouths, but the earthy scent carried on the wind reminded them that it was summer now.
Rundalian was surrounded by towering stone walls. Ronan whistled at the sheer scale, grander than those of most major cities.
"Damn, that's high."
"It's a city built by strong beastkin."
Adeshan nodded. Thinking about it, this was his first time visiting a city primarily inhabited by beastkin. The rough, sturdy walls were designed solely for blocking external enemies, piled high with massive, heavy stones without regard for aesthetics.
"Halt there."
The gate was enormous as well. Seven beastkin guards blocked the caravan's path: one were-tiger who seemed to be the squad leader, and three each of were-bears and were-wolves. Their massive builds made even their small numbers intimidating.
"From Valon?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Hmm... It's rare for a caravan this large to come here. We'll inspect the cargo, so everyone disembark."
The were-tiger spoke. Unlike the feral bandits from last night, his demeanor and actions were rational. He seemed wary of humans but didn't show outright hostility.
The beastkin soldiers swarmed forward, sniffing at the cargo wagons. Despite Ronan's subtle hopes, there was nothing suspicious. After a quick inspection, the tiger squad leader addressed Duon.
"You're clear to enter, but keep things quiet. The locals here aren't particularly fond of humans yet."
"Of course. Here, some comfort gifts from our caravan—please share them among yourselves."
"Comfort gifts?"
The squad leader's ears perked up. At Duon's signal, the merchants efficiently unloaded the cargo. A dozen large crates piled up before the gate. A were-bear soldier opened one and widened his eyes.
"My god, it's honey, squad leader. This one's salted pork."
"Pork?"
The tiger squad leader's eyes widened too. Honey, which needed flowers, and pork, which required water-intensive pig farming, were both rarities in the barren north. He glanced around cautiously before clearing his throat.
"Ahem, you know your stuff."
"Hahaha, I hope it suits your tastes."
Duon shook his hand. The soldiers, grinning ear to ear, carried off the crates. In high spirits, the squad leader waved them through the gate. Marya, walking at the front, poked Duon's side.
"Well? Good call preparing those."
"Indeed. That's my girl."
Duon patted his daughter's back. It seemed more her idea than his. Ronan whistled in admiration.
"You've got some real savvy."
"Heh. Worth the investment. It's bribery, sure, but also promotion for the Karabel Merchant Group. Guards in small cities like this are tight-knit with locals—they'll spread the word."
A true future Countess Armallen. Given the caravan's growth, she'd likely rise to nobility far sooner than before. Ronan absentmindedly reached out and ruffled her hair. Snap! Marya looked up and tried to bite his finger.
"Hey, when are you gonna stop treating me like a kid?"
"Just proud of you."
"Ahaha. I am pretty great, huh."
Marya giggled at the praise, her smile pure and beautiful. Watching from behind, Adeshan twisted her lips.
'...I must've misheard her last night.'
Her refreshed mood soured instantly. Then Marya glanced back, their eyes meeting. They stared for a second before Marya smiled coyly.
"Hehe."
"...Huh?"
Adeshan froze. That flirtatious smile carried layers of meaning. By the time she steadied her sinking heart, the two were already far ahead.
Ronan was still petting Marya's head like a dog. Glancing up at him slyly, she murmured softly.
"This is the last time for this, huh."
"Hm? What'd you say?"
"Nothing."
Her tone carried a hint of bitterness. Entering through the gate revealed the small city. Buildings were made of the same massive, rough stones as the walls.
The streets bustled with mostly beastkin residents. Despite the lingering chill, they wore light outing clothes. Fur pelts were handy in winter, indeed. As Ronan looked around, he caught murmurs.
"Mom, look. Humans."
"Shh, don't get close."
All eyes were on the caravan, and not kindly, just as the guard captain had warned. But reaching their destination mattered more. Duon, halting briefly, bid Ronan farewell.
"Thanks for escorting us this far. We made it safely thanks to you."
"No big deal. We had an easy ride too."
"We'll repay this debt. As my daughter said, we'll cover all costs at Heiran's smithy. Be sure to get a receipt."
"Aw, you don't have to."
Of course, he had no intention of refusing sincerely. Ronan chuckled, scratching his head. Sharpening a single sword wouldn't cost much anyway, but saving money was always good. Grancia promissory notes wouldn't work in Heiran.
Duon planned to stay a while to scout the city for optimal trade. Marya, listening quietly beside him, smacked her lips enviously.
"Lucky. Heiran, huh? I wanted to go too."
"What, not coming?"
"Yeah. Thought it over—I'm a merchant before a warrior. This comes first."
She spoke with clear regret. Ronan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change; she'd been excited about going all the way to Phileon.
"Sorry for switching up on you."
"Eh, if you wanna stay, no skin off my back..."
"Hehe, then put in a request for me. Sword's this greatsword, so armor would be nice."
Ronan nodded. Disappointing, but her reasoning made sense. After a light handshake, Marya approached the downcast Adeshan.
"Sis. Guess we part ways here. Traveling together was great."
"Y-yeah... It was for me too."
"Sigh... Back to stinky guys until Phileon. C'mere."
"C-can't... breathe."
Due to their height difference, she had to bend her knees slightly. Adeshan wheezed under the chest pressure. Marya closed her eyes, savoring the hug, then whispered in her ear—so quiet only they could hear.
"You'll have your hands full, sis. He's got zero awareness."
"Marya, you...!"
"Hehe. Think I wouldn't notice?"
Adeshan's face flushed. Marya's gaze lingered on Ronan, yawning lazily. Her voice grew slightly husky.
"No, uh... Heard from the guards—Fang Goblet inn's decent. Only one with human rooms, apparently. How about staying there tonight?"
"Th-thanks. But Marya... since when...?"
"Would be weird not to know. He's the oblivious one. Ah... eyes are itchy."
Marya rubbed her eyes and pulled away. Catching Ronan's eye by chance, she stuck out her tongue. He asked what that was about, but she ignored him. Facing Adeshan again, she grinned.
"Anyway, unlike some one-sided crushes, looks like it'll work out. Lucky you."
"Huh? What do you...?"
"Nothing."
Marya turned and leaped onto a wagon roof in one bound—an acrobatic feat that drew no attention in a beastkin city.
"See you in Phileon."
"Yeah. Take care."
Perched on the roof, Marya waved. Stunned by the abrupt farewell, Ronan waved back.
The caravan slowly vanished into the city's depths, likely heading to the iron mines first. Ronan scratched his head as it rounded the corner.
"What'd I do wrong? Why the attitude?"
"I-I dunno."
"Well, now it's just us to the Sea of Specters. Let's make it work."
Adeshan flinched at "just us"—after nearly twenty days of waiting. Hiding her expression, she nodded.
"Yeah."
"We'll crash here tonight, restock. Man, bed for once."
Heiran was four days nonstop; no villages in this remote area, so full resupply here.
Ronan grabbed passersby for info. Most beastkin eyed the human warily, but simple persuasion worked. Resting his left hand on his sword hilt and asking if beastkin hide differed much from animal fur in quality was especially effective. Piecing it together, he spoke.
"Hm. All good, but market's tomorrow. Tired—wanna grab a distilled spirit first?"
"Sure. They say Fang Goblet's good."
"How'd you know that? Let's head there."
They found Fang Goblet easily, tucked in a corner. Opening the stone door released a rush of indoor warmth. A middle-aged man with shaggy hair and beard—like a were-yak—greeted them.
"Welcome to Fang Goblet, proud tradition of twenty years. New faces."
"Human? Right...?"
"Haha, common question for first-timers. Dress like this to ease beastkin guests' discomfort."
The man boomed a laugh. A survival tactic in human-discriminating Rundalian. Questionable effectiveness, but savvy enough for two decades in business.
First floor was tavern, second inn. Long tables, chairs, kitchen-linked bar.
Early hour—only two giggling were-wolves in the corner. As the pair sat...
"Damn, thought I smelled something gross—humans."
"No way? Talk about bad luck."
Loud enough to hear. Ronan turned toward the noise. The corner were-wolves glared. Thuggish looks, city lowlifes. One spat on the floor at Ronan's gaze.
"What're you staring at? Not worth a bite."
"Heh."
Ronan chuckled instead. He'd sliced dozens of their kin hours ago. Pondering how to handle these mutts, the owner approached them obsequiously from the kitchen.
"Sirs... please restrain yourselves. They're guests too."
"Butt out and stay in the kitchen. I've told you— you're alive 'cause you make the best booze here. Nothing more, nothing less."
"B-but..."
The owner retreated. Not a great city for humans. The other were-wolf eyed them.
"Those two look like the human I killed in Varsa. All humans look alike?"
"Kekeke. Maybe. Was thinking the same."
"Good times. Hey, you—know how many humans we've killed? Me and this guy were Fang Night veterans."
Ronan's face hardened. Varsa—Adeshan's hometown. Ill-fated city caught in the beastkin rebellion, Fang Night. Border lord Varsa.
'Fuck.'
A chill premonition grazed his neck. Bad timing for this story. A chilling voice leaked from Adeshan's stiff lips.
"...What did you say?"
"Senior, wait..."
Too late. Black aura spread from Adeshan, blanketing the inn—Shadow Mana dominating minds. The alien, ominous pressure made the owner drop his ladle.
"Gah...!"
"Wh-what..."
The were-wolves' grins vanished. Infiltrated by Shadow Mana, they froze like wax dolls. Incomplete mental domination affected only their bodies. Exposed limbs twitched grotesquely.
"Damn. When'd she grow this much?"
Ronan cursed. It rivaled wartime sensations. Shadow Mana intensified. Deep breath, he grabbed Adeshan's shoulders.
"Senior. Stop."
He met her eyes. Ash-gray irises gleamed coldly.
"......Ronan."
"Don't dirty your hands. Not worth it, those vermin."
The were-wolves gasped, choking. Left alone, they'd die. Couldn't let her stain her future here.
After a long stare, Adeshan nodded. Shadows receded, killing intent lifted. Freed, the were-wolves bolted up.
"F-fucking humans... what'd you do to my body?!"
"I'll kill you!"
They knew who. Charging with arms raised, claws hooked menacingly.
"You mutts."
Ronan drew. As they closed in, invisible slashes danced. Burn-like pain halted them. Clatter! Twenty claws, severed to roots, spilled.
"Graaaargh!"
"M-my fingers!"
Twenty bloodstreams gushed. Realizing late, they collapsed screaming. Beastkin claws, nerve-linked unlike humans', rarely regrew once ripped.
Clink. Sheathing, Ronan spat coldly.
"Scram."
"Kyaaak! Graaaak!"
They fled like asses aflame. Owner trembled, clueless.
"Fucking dogs—if not for the city, I'd have their heads."
"...Thanks."
Regaining composure, Adeshan bowed deeply. Her shoulders heaved with ragged breaths. Furious beyond reason. Ronan shook his head.
"Whatever. I was pissed too."
"...You're too kind."
Adeshan smiled faintly. They sat as if nothing happened, ordering two distilled spirits. Twenty claws sparkled at their feet. Owner approached shakily.
"G-guests... you okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks for stepping in earlier."
"J-just my job. Your Rundalian distilled spirits."
He set down the drinks. Decent guy. Stone-carved glasses held clear, appealing liquor—as the thug said.
"Ooh, nice."
"I-I'm new to booze..."
"Sip—if bad, ditch it. Cheers!"
"Ch-cheers...!"
Glasses clinked, splashing droplets. As Ronan sipped...
"You've both changed a lot. Unrecognizable."
"What?"
They turned. A fluffy were-fox stood at the stairs from the second floor. Youthful fur. Ronan quirked a brow.
"Who're you, kid?"
"That hurts. Don't you recognize me?"
The were-fox sighed deeply. Ronan's brow furrowed. Why act familiar with that fluff? Puzzled...
"...Huh?"
Pale mana crept over the small shoulders. Intense déjà vu—Ronan gasped. Familiar mana. Recalling, eyes narrowing.
"Secret...?"
"Long time no see, Ronan."
"Holy shit, really."
Adeshan's eyes widened. Ronan cursed, standing—chair crashing.
"Eek!"
Startled owner yelped from kitchen, but unavoidable. Curse Studies professor Secret, after two years, was a fluffy-furred beastkin.