Chapter 63
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Why Are You Coming Out From There? (1)
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"Can we really trust that guy? He might have just spun some plausible tale..."
The four of them had returned to their lodging and resumed their meeting.
"Whether it's true or not, we've finally got a proper direction for the investigation. We know what to look into and where to start."
"Lord Dominic is right. We were floundering around, not even knowing what counted as a clue. Just having a direction is a huge win."
Anton spoke up, and Karim nodded in agreement.
"Let's split up and dig in again. Lord Anton, could you look into what the Grayton Merchant Group was doing in the desert?"
"No problem. I've heard the desert folk love it when empire merchant groups compete. It drives up the value of their goods. They even leak info on rival caravans on purpose, so poking around won't raise too many eyebrows."
"Good. Find out exactly what they bought and sold, the scale of their operations, how they handled payments, transportation, even their meal menus—everything."
"Yes, Lord Dominic!"
Anton's face lit up now that he had a clear task to lead.
"I'll investigate the missing mercenaries. Since they weren't hired through the guild, they're probably locals contracted on the spot. Asking around for ones who signed on quick and haven't returned yet might turn up something."
"Sounds good."
"Would it be alright if I also keep talking to that adventurer? He might know more."
"Sure."
"Then you and the knight plan to meet Sahar now?"
Karim asked back.
"We probably should. He said Sahar came south personally because of some desert legend—we can't just ignore that."
"We checked along the route here, and his camel train stuck to the usual trade paths. If there was some other purpose in the south, the schedule would've changed..."
Ian frowned, clearly stumped.
He had a point.
If the great desert merchant Sahar had truly come south to uncover the desert's secrets, why was everything exactly as usual?
"If we assume it's all true, there's only one answer."
Dominic, who had been lost in thought, spoke up.
"The key to the desert's secrets was hidden along his usual trade route—right here in our south."
"What kind of coincidence is that..."
"What if it's not a coincidence?"
"What do you mean?"
"The old lord once told me something like that."
Dominic paused briefly before continuing.
"When coincidences repeat, it's no longer coincidence."
"......!"
The old lord had shared that maxim with Dominic while recounting his own experiences teaching it to his son, the current lord. He'd told Dominic to etch it in his heart—there are no overlapping coincidences in this world.
And Dominic was an excellent student when it came to such things.
"A massive caravan that suddenly moves at this critical moment when the desert's secret is discovered. Too many eyes on a group that size to slip away unnoticed. But there's one place they could linger slowly without suspicion."
"...Viscount Delt's territory."
"Exactly."
Ian's expression turned deadly serious, mirroring Dominic's.
"Are you saying there's something in Viscount Delt's lands right now?"
"That beggar—no, adventurer—said he found the center that reveals the desert's secret. But he couldn't get closer because of some barrier."
"Right."
"If there's truly an oasis and jungle in the heart of the great sea of sand, protected by some barrier-like force dividing space... well, it sounds familiar."
"Familiar how?"
"Viscount Delt's territory."
"...Viscount Delt's territory is just... my god."
Even Ian, who had started to deny it, bit his lip as something clicked.
"The southlands are fertile—no one on the continent denies that. But even so, Viscount Delt's yields are unbelievable to any southerner. Can we really chalk that up to just better soil?"
"......!"
"What if an invisible barrier sets Viscount Delt's land apart from neighboring territories, making its nature entirely different? That would explain it."
The group could only exchange glances at Dominic's suspicion, speechless.
It was definitely odd.
Viscount Delt's lands had always been seen as a fertile granary with rich soil, yielding bountiful harvests. The viscount maintained wealth by selling grain but never expanded the military or ventures beyond a few modest hobbies, keeping fortunes steady across generations.
No one eyed Viscount Delt covetously.
The fertile lands tempted, but the family's readiness to hire mercenaries at the first sign of greed made it untouchable—like sour grapes no one could claim.
Over generations, this position held firm, turning Viscount Delt's territory into a communal farm: a place to buy cheap grain in bad years. No one paid it much mind.
"Do you think, my lord, that Viscount Delt's bounty comes from the same force as that primordial city at the desert's heart?"
"It's worth suspecting."
Karim nodded too.
"B-but do we really need to dig into this? It feels risky. Oh, of course I'll help!"
"We'll bail if it gets dicey. But to confirm Grayton brought that guy south, we need to check anyway."
"True. We need proof that adventurer wasn't lying..."
Anton conceded.
"But meeting Sahar won't be easy, will it?"
"Probably not. That 'Caravan King' title didn't come cheap."
"Got any ideas in mind?"
Karim asked curiously, but Dominic gave him an odd look.
"Why ask me?"
"...Pardon?"
"You find a way, Karim."
That's why you're here. This is admin work.
So get to it.
'I've done my part piecing this together.'
Dominic's stomach was rumbling from all the brainwork—it had been ages since he'd pushed himself like this.
"Care for a bite?"
"...Enough already."
"It's not like we'll meet Sahar tomorrow anyway. We can sleep late tonight."
Ian shook his head at Dominic, who was stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk.
Ian's face still glowed, but exhaustion clung to every feature.
Stamina was one thing, but mental drain was worse. The idea that neighboring Viscount Delt might hold secrets tied to the empire's heart was a headache inducer.
'How can he be so unfazed?'
Ian found Dominic even more baffling.
The weakest physically, yet bursting with energy.
'You really can't judge a book by its cover.'
Or maybe lacking training just meant low combat prowess, but innate stamina was top-tier? If so, Ian felt a twinge of envy.
"Just this one last thing—let's grab it and go!"
Oblivious to Ian's thoughts, Dominic dashed to another stall, insisting it was truly the last.
The desert market stayed lit late.
Folks preferred the cool dark over midday scorch, so the central bazaar sparkled with magic orbs, a city that never slept.
Dominic roamed the exotic night market like a fish to water, arms full of snacks, grinning ear to ear.
Unaware of tomorrow.
Where am I? Who am I?
The perfect summary of Dominic's current thoughts.
Last night, he'd partied at the night market, downed a drink, then crashed hard at the inn.
Early morning, Karim burst in claiming he'd found a way to see Sahar ASAP. Hungover and half-asleep, Dominic mumbled he'd heard and shooed him out.
Karim's parting "You really approve?!" felt off as he turned to leave.
'What's the worst that could happen?'
Evidently, you should listen properly.
"Ahem, well, you see, he confessed to stealing this pouch from Sahar..."
"Yes, my lord traveled with Sahar's camel train on the way here. It must've gotten mixed in with the luggage then. The moment he realized, he rushed here to confess. Please, mercy!"
"Sigh... This is tricky. It doesn't look intentional, so calling it theft is iffy..."
Karim had dragged him by the hand into a carriage, landing them at the guard post.
Now Dominic sat dazed in the office, an unwitting thief, while Karim delivered an Oscar-worthy performance.
Just watching Karim, you'd swear his master had committed a crime and he was at a loss.
'This is the plan...? Genius, my ass...'
Desperate for a quick audience, they'd resorted to this gambit, leaving Dominic uneasy.
But things unfolded just as Karim predicted.
"And with just a few silver coins inside, Sahar might not even miss it..."
"Oh no! It's the pouch itself that's the issue! Look at that fine silk—clearly luxury. What if it's something Sahar treasures? Could spell big trouble later!"
"Hm, y-you think?"
"Desert law says keeping found property—intentional or not—makes you a thief, right?"
"...Was there such a clause...?"
"Of course! And one more: for petty theft confessed with remorse, the victim decides guilt in person, touched by the repentance."
"Spot on. That's the problem! In the Sultan-honored lands, law is paramount. Calling in someone like Sahar over a few silvers because of a confession... ugh! Cut us some slack!"
"I-I see! Sorry, my lord!"
"...If he hadn't confessed..."
"What? Deny our faithful servant of the goddess a chance to atone? Is that it?"
"...Wait here. First time for this—might work, might not. Someone's gone to relay the message..."
Bang!
The guard post door flew open right on cue.
It was the errand soldier.
"He'll grant ten minutes before lunch!"
"...Let's go! My lord, up you get—we're off to confess!"
Look at her, treating me like a real crook.
Dominic's feelings were a bit hurt by Karim's demonic acting chops.
But he had to admit it.
A formal request would've taken days, maybe weeks. Baiting with trade held no guarantee of personal involvement. Karim's wild ploy was absurd but effective.
Sahar's mansion wasn't far from the guard post.
Or rather, the post was near the cluster of elite estates.
"Even meeting Sahar, don't pester him! He's swamped—just squeezed this in. Desert custom demands it!"
"Y-yes."
In the carriage with the captain, who kept lecturing Dominic on dos and don'ts, Dominic half-listened, pondering how to extract answers from Sahar.
Clop, clop.
The carriage passed the mansion gates.
At that moment, in Sahar's most secretive annex, a figure seated blindfolded and serene curved their lips in intrigue.
"He holds a very old memory—what an interesting one. Yet why is half that memory sealed?"
End of Why Are You Coming Out From There? (1)