Chapter 40
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Auction and Festival (3)
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"What the hell is this old hag babbling about? You gonna scram or what? You need a bone broken before you come to your senses?"
Bam!
"Got a long tongue on you?"
Emily had snapped in half the wooden block she'd brought to fix her stall.
"W-What the...? You look familiar from somewhere, hag. You're really gonna regret this!"
The three out-of-towners who'd been picking a fight were dumbfounded.
They'd expected some villagers to complain, but they never imagined it'd be a middle-aged woman who looked like just another village housewife.
"Looks like you boys need to taste some bitterness before you'll listen to Auntie."
"Yeah, boss. Hey, old lady!"
The gang, exchanging lines like back-alley thugs, closed in on Emily.
"Heh heh, if you'd just said you missed a young man's touch, we could've been gentle..."
"Gah! Ack! Ack! My arm! My arm!"
"I was gonna just rough you up a bit to knock some sense into you, but listen to this punk."
"I-It’s breaking! Ack!"
"Quit whining. It ain't broken yet."
"Gaaaaah! Boss! Boss!"
Auntie had swiftly subdued the skinny one with the sleazy grin who'd stepped forward first, twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. Now she was lightly tapping the back of his head with her palm.
"Damn it!"
"It's fine to charge in, but you know if you mess up and break your buddy's arm wrong, he'll be crippled for life, right?"
Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes weren't. To the gang, the middle-aged woman suddenly looked like the goddess of death.
"B-Boss!"
"Wh-Wh... Why're you looking at me, you punk?!"
"You the head honcho?"
"What?"
"Repeat after me. One means 'obediently.' Two means 'at your service.' One!"
"What the hell?!"
"Gaaaaah, boss! Do what she says! It's really breaking! Gaaaaah!"
"One!"
"...Obediently!"
"Good boy. Two!"
"At your service!"
"One!"
"Obediently!"
The guy in Auntie's grip was foaming at the mouth from the pain, his eyes rolling back on the verge of passing out.
The burly leader, who seemed to be the boss of this trio, wondered if this was a dream. Even as he led the chant, he pinched his own arm.
It hurts.
Not a dream.
The three were traveling merchants who scammed people at festivals and events on the outskirts.
When they were younger, they'd been low-level crooks in a back-alley gang—pickpocketing or staging fake injuries for extortion. But they'd realized that kind of work didn't pay big.
They wanted to make real money.
But they had no talent for brawling, so they hit a ceiling in the gang. Eventually, they decided to become merchants.
But even as merchants, these scumbags weren't about to do honest business!
They weren't hardworking or clever with ideas.
So they had one option: wander as peddlers, ripping off suckers everywhere!
It was pretty lucrative.
Overcharging, padding meat with cheap cabbage, separate fees for seating and condiments, per-person table charges, glass fees for drinks, recycling leftovers as standard, watering down booze as their "special technique."
[This is outrageous! You're ripping us off!]
[You ate it all and now you wanna stiff us? Huh?!]
When customers complained after learning the real prices too late, the boss would sic his two thuggish underlings on them, and they'd back down.
They'd only stay a few days before moving on, so bad word-of-mouth didn't matter.
[Evergreen? Never heard of it. Oh, big village festival? Sweet. Let's head there!]
The village turned out more bustling than expected, but that was even better—more marks to fleece.
But now...
"B-Boss! Save me... G-Gaaaaah!"
What the hell was going on?!
"H-Hey! Auntie Emily! Hold up!"
"Village Chief?"
Just then, a young guy who looked barely past twenty showed up, trailed by a handsome blond knight.
"Phew, you scared me. Good job holding back, Auntie. I was worried you'd break a few already."
"Oh ho ho, festival starts tomorrow. Didn't wanna spill blood."
Emily chuckled playfully.
Gurgle...
The skinny guy, finally released, had collapsed on the ground and passed out.
"...He gonna live?"
"Village Chief, what do you take me for? He's hurting bad enough to wish for death, but his joints are fine. Kid's softer than he looks."
"Ah."
Emily.
One of the three vice-captains from Kallon's old mercenary band, publicly acknowledged master of joint locks.
This village really has a master lurking in every third house.
For Dominic, one of the village's weakest, it was hard to say whether to laugh or cry.
"Let's see, out-of-town merchants?"
Anyway, cleanup was his job now.
But the apparent leader, still not grasping the situation, spoke to Dominic first.
"You the chief?"
"Yeah."
"No way! You think it's right to chase off merchants like us who came to make your festival lively?"
"Chase off? From up there, looked like you started the fight."
"Th-That! Ahem. We weren't exactly saints, but that old lady—er, Auntie—struck first! So let's call it even. We'll yield this spot. But let us use that one across the square till the festival ends!"
Dominic scratched his ear at that.
"What're you on about?"
"...You talking to me?"
"Oops, mumbled to myself?"
"Grr!"
The merchant's forehead veins bulged at Dominic's blatant taunt.
But glancing around, he saw buff guys and sword-bearing knights glaring at him.
Some gang already claimed this village?
The merchant spun a plausible theory from the Fishing Cooperative uncles' builds and started eyeing the crowd warily.
Local festivals always attract these types.
He hadn't licensed proper shops with buildings, but he'd overlooked these ragtag peddlers.
Pre-festival eve tomorrow, so they'll start trickling in tonight. Best to shoo 'em out, but...
Kicking them out of the village was easiest, but had downsides.
Vendors outside mean no oversight. Tch. Annoying.
The Fishing Cooperative uncles could patrol in shifts, but legally, they couldn't interfere off village land.
One option left.
"Here to do business? Follow me."
Couldn't let these fly-by-nights sour tourists' moods.
No rip-offs at my festival.
That way, they'd come back next year, the year after, for endless sweet gains.
Time to set proper guidelines from year one. Dominic led the merchants to the village hall.
**
"This is too much! Too far from the square! Gimme a spot there!"
"That's reserved for our villagers' stalls."
"Fine, but... Ah! Young chief knows business. Take this, not much but..."
"Uncle. Wanna wear irons rattling? You know Old Lord Sinclair's at the resort, right?"
"Eek!"
The shady merchant, trying to bribe after Dominic refused central square spots, flinched and hunched his shoulders.
"Uh, where do we pick from?"
"Check this out."
Laki, helping with festival prep at the hall, quickly brought a map divided into zones.
She'd caught Dominic's hint perfectly and whipped up a new diagram on the spot.
She really gets things done.
Per Perot, she was already reading, writing, and calculating like a pro.
She'd gotten hooked on studying, borrowing books from the resort's guest stock and devoting herself daily.
"This one, here."
"Three days? That's the stall fee..."
Laki had set fees reasonable but profitable.
"Fine. Tch."
"Impatient type. Not done yet. Sit."
"What's left?"
Dominic grabbed the merchant heading out and waved another paper.
"We do price tags. Main items, names, prices—write 'em here, post 'em big at your stall. Obvious spots. Patrols check; mismatches mean instant boot."
Laki had paint ready.
"Draw pics too? Lots can't read."
Good work as always. Dominic beamed inwardly.
The man hesitated on prices but set them and took the paper.
Low-quality stock—if unsold here, total loss. Swallowing pride.
"Tell the patrolling Fishing Cooperative uncles: bring out-of-town peddlers straight here."
"Got it. Like you just did? Leave it to me."
"Might work late tonight. Up at dawn tomorrow too. These vendors'll swarm now."
"No worries. Tired means dead to me. Oh, Old Lord says drop by the lodge before dinner."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Knight too."
First time Old Lord summoned them to his suite.
He'd always come to the kitchen, hall, or square himself.
"Something up? Heard a guest arrived today—stuck inside all day."
"Yeah."
"No idea who?"
"Nope."
Not the Count or Countess.
They'd bring knights and servants; Dominic would've known.
"Introducing us? Anyway, let's go. Don't wanna get chewed out for being late."
Fire out, they hurried.
Floral shirt, day-drinking from the bottle with hiccups—but best not keep a swordmaster waiting.
**
"Come in, quick."
They dashed to the resort suite where Old Lord stayed.
There, Dominic was reminded this was a fantasy world.
"...A dwarf?"
"Yer!"
Why was a dwarf here?