Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: The Drowned Duke's Heart
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At the edge of Guild City territory. The night sea shimmered, holding the pale, pouring starlight.
The port city of Cambio, which met the continent’s southern sea, could be called the Empire’s greatest trading hub.
Arte del Cambio.
It was one of the great guilds responsible for currency exchange and finance, and the guild to which the City Master, who oversaw the seven cities and the great guilds, belonged. And in that very city, the foulest of desires stirred.
A masquerade of beasts.
Pigs, birds, horses, cows. This was no metaphor; men wearing the masks of all manner of beasts were there. Each donned a ceremonial mask as if at a carnival, enjoying a lavish party that would make even the Imperial Palace envious.
Dale was no exception.
He wore a white mask, like one from *The Phantom of the Opera*, and disguised his shadow cloak as a black robe to conceal his identity.
The day the continent’s greatest black market opened.
Amidst the masquerade of beasts, Dale turned his head.
True to its name as a market, an innumerable number of goods were on display.
Like the glass showcases of a department store.
Items not valuable enough to be auctioned but worthy enough to liven up the Black Market. From living creatures to rare artifacts that adventurers risked their lives to obtain in labyrinths. Treasures worth more than the entire fortune and territory of a lesser noble were, here, no more than snacks rolling around a common marketplace.
A golden battlefield where even the Empire's most prominent nobles couldn't participate without bracing for a heavy loss.
“Ladies, gentlemen…”
There, a man began to speak.
“And the puppets of ladies and gentlemen.”
Behind the pattern of a mouth grotesquely split like a crescent moon.
He was a man wearing the mask of The Laughing Man.
One of the seven guild masters, and at the same time, the one who represented the other six guild masters and the seven cities.
“I sincerely welcome you all to the Black Market, the pride of our Guild City.”
The pinnacle of Guild City. The City Master had finally revealed himself.
***
“We will start the bidding at three Black Chips.”
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Seven!”
“Ah, seven! We have seven!”
The City Master raised his voice, sounding delighted, while wearing the mask of The Laughing Man with its grotesquely split crescent mouth.
For the largest black market on the continent, the numbers they were shouting seemed absurdly small. But the price of a single chip they called out carried the weight of a fortune.
In a sense, it wasn't much different from a casino chip.
There was a product, a price was set, and an owner was decided. That was all there was to it.
One item was sold, and the next was revealed. People eagerly bid their chips, and the next item also went to the one who offered seven chips.
They were things that failed to draw even a sliver of interest from Dale.
The night was still long.
Feeling the weight of the ‘several hundred Black Chips’ hidden within his robe, he turned his head.
A bird-beak mask and a black coat.
He left behind the agents of the Shadow Court, who were blending in seamlessly with the masquerade of beasts.
***
“One hundred.”
A man spoke, and a hush fell over the hall. What broke the silence was the sound of the City Master’s applause.
“A truly excellent decision.”
The number of proxies was rapidly dwindling.
After placing their bids, they would actually pay the price through the branches of the Cambio Guild scattered across the continent.
A promissory note.
In other words, they wouldn't receive the goods here, but only after the payment for the item was settled. Guild City wasn't foolish enough to gather so many expensive goods and treasures in one place.
After exhausting their chips, the nobles’ proxies began to disappear from the hall one by one. And amidst it all, there were those who remained in their seats without so much as a twitch.
The Black Prince of House Sachsen, the Empire's agent Ray Yuriseu, Mikhail from the ducal House of Lancaster, and others whose identities couldn't be discerned behind their masks.
But as the endless stream of goods continued, their numbers steadily decreased, while nothing managed to stimulate the greed of Dale or the Black Prince.
*Are they planning to hide their cards until the very end?* It didn't matter. Amidst the throbbing pain, Dale moved his shadowy prosthesis and thought.
“It seems the time has come.”
Around then, after an inscrutable mumble, the City Master continued.
The final item.
“...!”
Dale’s expression—no, everyone’s expression—froze in shock.
***
At that moment.
The night sea churned in the deep darkness. Leaving the heavy silence behind, a few boats cut through the water and reached the shore. Shadows moved quickly.
Grappling hooks were silently thrown over the walls of the port city of Cambio. Shadows sprinted up the stone walls.
*Schwing!*
A blade swung down toward one of the guards protecting the watchtower.
“Guk, keoheok…!”
Blood gushed from the severed neck, and a voice that couldn't form a sound escaped through the gash. The guards meant to protect the post collapsed without even putting up a fight.
A short time later.
From beyond the jet-black horizon, massive, monstrous silhouettes began to appear one by one. The prows of a fleet cut through the waves, revealing their might, their sails billowing in the night wind.
Emblazoned on the sails was a pirate flag: a skull with two crossed femurs.
The Jolly Roger.
In this world, that symbol meant only one thing. It was the crest of House Barbarossa, known as one of the Empire's ‘Three Great Ducal Houses’ alongside House Sachsen and House Lancaster.
The masters of the sea, who had established themselves in the archipelago of the Sea of Death and commanded an invincible fleet.
*Clank!*
The ships released their anchor chains, and the anchors plunged into the sea in unison. The mightiest fleet, commanded by the Drowned Duke, Francis Barbarossa.
As if monsters from the deep were crawling onto land, the silent fleet slowly came to a halt, facing the shore.
But there were no watchmen left in the tower to report their landing or light the beacon.
***
“C-City Master!”
A vulgar noise that shattered the silence of the Black Market, which should have been ironclad, echoed through the hall. Unable to hide his shock, a soldier ran in and shouted urgently at the City Master and the other guild masters.
“The Drowned Duke Barbarossa’s fleet is landing all around the city!”
“...!”
No one there could be ignorant of the weight of the act of raiding the Black Market.
It wasn't just making an enemy of Guild City. It was an act equivalent to making an enemy of the Imperial Family, the Emperor, the Red Magic Tower which acted on behalf of the Empire itself, the Empire's two ducal houses, and an innumerable number of great nobles.
It was, quite literally, the same as making an enemy of the world.
And yet, no one in the Black Market dared to be shaken by that fact.
The seven guild masters and the proxies present were no exception.
“Now, at what price shall we begin the auction for this item?”
The City Master spoke.
Without a hint of hesitation, looking directly at Dale.
Guild City had been right to assume that the Black Prince would covet it so fiercely.
No, not just the Black Prince. Who in the Empire would dare not feel greed for this item? This was no time to worry about a lost arm in the Fight Club. Even if he were to lose an arm for good, it wouldn't change a thing.
“Even I cannot dare to fathom its value.”
“...What do you want?”
At last, after a long silence, Dale spoke.
“How did you get your hands on that?”
He slammed the *Phantom of the Opera* mask he was wearing onto the floor.
“A trade secret.”
From behind the mask of The Laughing Man, the City Master smiled slyly.
“Why are you trying to hand ‘it’ over to us, instead of keeping it for yourself?”
“Because we have no need for it.”
The City Master replied.
“Even if I were to possess ‘it,’ what benefit would it bring me?”
“How can you even say that?”
“Then let me rephrase the question.”
The City Master continued.
“If our Guild City were to possess it, what would change?”
As if he couldn't understand.
“In a situation where Lord Dale has threatened the guild master of Kalimala and seized control of the Shadow Court... where Lord Ray has intimidated the master of the Lana Guild, and Lord Mikhail has won over the Santiago Guild...”
“...!”
He recited the details of the secret struggles occurring within Guild City, one by one.
The six guild masters couldn't hide their bewildered agitation. Furthermore, when the name of the Shadow Court was mentioned, even the great Dale couldn't maintain his poker face.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Even Master Baro and the men in bird-beak masks guarding the Black Market were no exception.
“What would change for the future of this city, which has become an arena for the strong and whose unity is crumbling?”
It was at that moment.
*CRASH!*
A loud commotion erupted from the entrance of the Black Market, which should have been guarded more strictly than anything. Led by Killing Sword Master Baro, the top masters of the Shadow Court placed their hands on their hilts.
The strongest warriors of Guild City, meant to protect the Black Market where the Empire's VVIPs were gathered.
*Clop, clop.*
“Ah, don’t you worry.”
From a distance, the sound of dress shoes echoed.
“Even so, I am not so foolish as to hand ‘it’ over to the Empire.”
The City Master continued.
“From the very beginning, there were only two people worthy of this item.”
Two people.
“Sachsen, and Lancaster.”
He uttered the names of two of the Empire's three great ducal houses.
“And I have no doubt that you, Lord Dale, are the most suitable person to acquire this item.”
“...”
“Watching your performance in the Fight Club, I was finally convinced.”
“Of what?”
“The greatest talent in both sword and magic the Empire has ever known.”
The City Master said.
“Furthermore, despite the overwhelming difference in ability, you possess the courage and insight to accurately grasp your opponent's psychology and take a gamble.”
“...”
“Lord Dale, you are ‘qualified.’”
“Qualified for what?”
“—The right to take this world into your hands.”
“...!”
This was never an auction. It was a test.
A test through the Fight Club's contest to determine who was worthy of obtaining ‘it.’
To find the one who would claim final victory among the geniuses hailed as the greatest talents in the Empire.
“The scales of power that support the Empire will tip, order will crumble, and a great many things will change.”
But there was one thing he couldn't understand. What on earth was that man, the City Master, aiming for?
The footsteps grew closer.
*CRASH!*
The ironclad entrance of the Black Market was finally smashed open, and a man appeared.
A man who looked like a drowned rat.
Upon seeing him, a high-ranking assassin from the Shadow Court shot forward, reversing the grip on the sword in his hand.
“You imbecile, stop right there!”
At the same time, Master Baro shouted in alarm.
*Thud.*
The assassin’s body stopped dead in its tracks.
*Gurgle.*
A sound like bubbling came from somewhere.
The assassin, who should have been rushing toward the man, was frozen in place.
“Guk, keoheok… Gack!”
At the same time, in the empty air, he began to flail and ‘sink’ as if submerged in water. The marble floor of the hall was acting as if it were the sea itself.
“Now then, let us introduce the item.”
Behind the mask of The Laughing Man, the City Master spoke.
In the presence of Sachsen, Lancaster, and Barbarossa.
“One of the Empire's three great dukes, the Drowned Duke, Francis Barbarossa.”
“...”
“We will begin the auction for the chest containing the Drowned Duke's heart, starting at one Black Chip.”
The chest containing the Drowned Duke’s heart.
A legendary tale from the past, when Barbarossa was known by the epithet Pirate Duke, of how he made a deal with a ‘demon’ of the sea to gain eternal life… by placing his own heart in an obsidian box and hiding it at the bottom of the ocean.
And the fact that the subject of that very tale, the Drowned Duke, had come here leading his entire fleet.
It proved the City Master's words more certainly than anything else.
In other words, the final item up for bid at the Black Market meant only one thing.
To possess that chest meant holding the life of one of the Empire's three great dukes… the Drowned Duke.