Chapter 61
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Rumors (2)
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"This is our house special spice mix. It pairs so well with cheese."
"Ooh! Mind if I try a sample?"
"Of course. If you're interested, get in touch."
Dominic and Ian had rented out an entire teahouse inside the large trading post and set up shop there.
Around them sat desert folk, eyeing each other and waiting for their moment.
Ding-a-ling-.
Another group entered the teahouse, looking around.
"Excuse me, is this where that Imperial named Dominic is...?"
"Ah, yes. You've found the right place. Spices? Academy? Resort? What brings you here?"
The greeting was polite, but somehow mechanical.
To the puzzled customer asking for details,
"Well, you're not the first or second person looking for Sir Dominic. Take a look over there."
The teahouse owner nodded toward the back of the shop, where people were stealing glances at one particular table.
"...Don't tell me all these people are here for that merchant Dominic too?"
"Yes. Word's spread quite a bit. And every one of them has some interesting story to share."
"Hmm-."
It was exactly as he said.
Dominic, who had vowed to dig up rumors, had for some reason instructed the inn staff to spread them around town instead.
- He's selecting some of the spice mixes passed down family by family and introducing them to the Empire. No, not asking for recipes—they're covering all the initial costs themselves. And that's not all. The imported spice mixes will have each family's name on them, bottled in dwarf-made glass, and sold at premium prices! It's only a matter of time before the family names spread across the continent. Just like the Empire's wines!
- Heard that Dominic guy has the trust of the Empire's top southern noble? Yeah, that's right. He's setting up an academy in the Empire right now, gathering talented commoners and teaching them all sorts of things. Doesn't care about class, so probably doesn't mind ethnicity either. Bah, we've been fools! I saw with my own eyes that the guy with him is half-desert blood. And get this—he's the chief administrator of that city. This is a chance for desert talents dreaming of making it in the Empire!
- Ever seen the sea? Nah, me neither, just in pictures. Can't be helped; it's a long way past the Dead Sea... Huh? Why the sea all of a sudden? That Imperial Dominic. Yeah, the guy everyone's talking about! They say he runs this luxury inn—resort, was it? Word is it's paradise on earth. Emerald seas in a foreign land, exotic foods, parties all day long. And now he's developed a secret hot spring island you can only reach by boat. Already packed with Empire nobles and rich folk. To celebrate coming to the desert, the owner's reserving a few private villas on his authority. I'm thinking of asking about it. When else would I get to visit the Empire?
With these three rumors spreading at once, they created a synergy effect.
As Dominic's name kept popping up among quick-eared merchants, the desert folk started seeing him as a major Imperial figure.
Dominic might still lag behind high-ranking Empire trading company execs in status or wealth, but rumors were a fearsome thing.
Expectations and novelty had blinded everyone.
"...Being famous is nice. Look over there even now? People lining up just to see you."
"Yeah, earlier in the market district, I swear some folks recognized me. This must be what fame feels like?"
"Is this really the time for jokes? While Karim and Anton slave away daily chasing leads, is this okay?"
Ian hadn't been working properly these past few days, just killing time, and it gnawed at him.
Every night facing Karim and Anton, guilt sprouted like weeds.
The two toiled among strangers in the scorching desert heat. Yet here he and Dominic were, sipping cool tea in the teahouse, reviewing resumes, taking resort bookings, or collecting spices.
"Ugh! I was just about to get started anyway."
"Get started? Then what have we been doing until now...?"
"Laying the groundwork."
And doing some business on the side.
Dominic decided Ian didn't need to hear that part and wiped his mouth clean.
The profits from the past few days—and those to come—were enough to stuff him full without sleep or food, but he'd save that thought for later.
"Owner!"
"Yes!"
Dominic called the teahouse owner he'd been imposing on for days.
"Looks like we've got all the people and goods we need, so no more introductions required."
In an awkward, unpracticed imitation of an Imperial politician, Dominic pressed on.
"So you're ending the exclusive rental then?"
The plump, honest-faced owner looked crestfallen at Dominic's announcement of closing shop.
These past days, he'd pocketed rental fees from Dominic, plus cash payments for all the food and drink without haggling—a windfall boom.
"No, not that. Sorry, but I'd like to rent the place a bit longer. Possible?"
"Huh? Oh, of course, sir! Use it as long as you like!"
"Just one favor to ask, though..."
"What is it?"
"Talking with you desert folk, I've realized how different things are from the Empire. Climate, monsters, legends, rumors—nothing's uninteresting."
Dominic nodded as if they'd all been delightful tales, and the owner puffed up with pride, shoulders squaring.
In the owner's eyes, Dominic and Ian lacked the typical Imperial arrogance.
They'd shown interest in desert customs and respected their culture. Hearing admiration from them naturally filled him with pride.
"So, here's the thing. I want to collect desert stories, compile them into a book, and take it back to my city. How about it? Connect me with folks who know fun rumors or tales, and I won't skimp on the reward."
"Fun rumors or tales...?"
"Yeah. I've heard the myths and legends already, so people with unknown stories would be perfect."
"Got it! I'll spread the word!"
"Counting on you. Haha!"
Rumors about Dominic swirled once more through the trading post and market district.
"...An astonishing tale, isn't it?"
"Indeed. Well heard."
At Dominic's signal, Karim handed over a red flower.
The storyteller, having spun his yarn, left with a faintly disappointed look.
Word that usable tales from desert lore would be selected for a book drew even more people to the teahouse.
Dominic and his group would then award gold, red, yellow, or white flowers based on their own criteria, which were exchanged for cash outside.
Most storytellers got red or yellow flowers.
But occasionally, someone would snag a gold flower and walk off with gold coins. Merchants, mercenaries, errand boys—everyone was desperate to spot what those gold-flower recipients had in common.
Earning gold from a mere five-minute tale was luck rarer than once a year for some.
Yet unlike the hopeful crowds, Ian and Karim grew increasingly skeptical.
Enduring hours of rambling stories daily was wearing them down.
"Is this really going to work?"
Ian asked Dominic with a weary expression.
'Thought it was a good idea, but reality and ideals are worlds apart.'
Collecting stories was essentially gathering intel outright.
But the prior days baiting with spices and academy posts had built goodwill among desert folk. They'd subtly positioned themselves as mere resort merchants far from politics, so no one in the market suspected them.
Ian had thought Dominic always surpassed his expectations, but this time, failure seemed certain.
'Even geniuses slip up sometimes.'
Dominic looked deflated, head bowed, and Ian felt a twinge of pity.
The wunderkind's first setback—he'd need support to overcome it.
Ian resolved to offer his hand.
"Ugh!"
Stagger-.
But as Ian lightly patted Dominic's shoulder, Dominic lurched dramatically, nearly toppling over.
"......"
"Whoa, scared me. Whew, dozed off without realizing. Give a guy a nudge."
Ian's gaze turned icy.
"Falling asleep in this situation, huh."
"Sorry. Must be tired."
"Sigh-. By now you must see this isn't working. Let's try another approach..."
"What are you talking about? We're finally getting people who get it."
Ian figured they'd burn cash without unearthing any real leads and tried persuading Dominic to pivot, but Dominic stubbornly widened his eyes.
"Get it?"
"Sharp ones have figured it out by now, right?"
"Figured out what?"
"How to get the gold flower. I even planted rumor-spreaders outside on purpose. Yawn-. Anyway, I'm off to sleep. Same tomorrow! Wrap it up and head home!"
Dominic strode out like there was nothing left to see, boarded the carriage, and shut his eyes.
Ian stood dumbfounded, like a dog chasing a chicken.
"Sir Anton. What did the market lord mean? Planted rumor-spreaders outside?"
"It's an old Dominic trick. Worked great when he first sold seaweed."
Karim clapped his hands in realization.
"Those guys hounding gold-flower recipients for their stories...!"
"Yep, Dominic's plants. Told them to spread what the gold-flower folks shared."
Ian hurriedly rifled through his notes.
"...Stories involving Imperials!"
The common thread among gold-flower winners:
Tales of Imperials encountering desert animals, plants, and monsters.