The Perceptive One, The Oblivious One
"Berg, was it? You seem surprisingly close with the guild master."
I couldn't help but find it intriguing that Haron, the guild master dwarf, used honorifics even with other long-lived races like elves, who outlast humans by far. But to extend that courtesy to a commoner like me on first meeting, with barely any age gap between us? Grinning with amusement, I turned to Griham and spoke up.
"You seem like someone with... very open-minded thinking?"
"Less 'open-minded' and more a practical noble who treats people according to their abilities—I'd appreciate it if you saw me that way."
"Ho..."
In this medieval world dominated by rigid class structures and all the injustices they breed, Griham was a rare breed, showing genuine human warmth. 'Count of the frontier, right...?'
As a noble, he'd no doubt undergone rigorous etiquette and ideological training from childhood. Whatever family tradition shaped him into someone so different must play a huge role. I found myself suddenly curious about Count Reinhardt, the head of his house.
"Treat based on ability, huh..."
"Yes. On that note, why not introduce the lady standing behind you, Mr. Berg? She doesn't seem like just anyone..."
His gaze shifted to Tier, who'd been standing rigid behind me, ears perked as she gauged the mood. He'd already sensed that both she and I were far beyond him—her presence alone made his eyebrows twitch as he asked me to introduce her.
Still, Tier seemed like someone he could at least spar with, judging by the way his grip tensed and his eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe. Unintentionally, it irked me as her husband, but for her, it probably registered as an intriguing rival worth clashing with.
'Kids are still kids, huh... He needs to learn to hide that shit.'
Even with overwhelming status and power, you end up with that subtle superiority complex leaking out, no matter how good your character. But in a formal setting, shouldn't you at least mask every last bit of emotion?
He'd asked me to introduce her because their relationship wasn't ordinary... As my fondness for Griham dipped just a touch and I opened my mouth for a sharp rebuke—
"Grrr..."
A low growl escaped Tier's lips. Beastkin like her struggled even more than humans to suppress their instincts. Our house pup apparently hadn't even reached proper dog level yet. Sensing the air between Griham and Tier growing icy, I waved it off casually with a hand and straightened up.
"Sorry about that. This is my lover, Tier. As you can see, she's still got a bit of that youthful fire—please forgive her."
Griham, who'd sized me up purely by presence, nodded with renewed admiration at how effortlessly I'd disrupted the mana flow sparking between Tier and him moments ago.
"No need. I started it, so don't worry about it."
Any ordinary person might've apologized to Tier too, but Griham had clocked my dislike for anyone sniffing around her. He quietly bowed politely to her without a word, then averted his eyes.
'The more I see this guy, the more I like him... Is he a political pro, or just sharp? Or just sharp enough to handle politics?'
What was my goal in this wyvern subjugation again? Sure, money, gear, fame—but what really gnawed at me was the imperial bigwig I'd face afterward. In other words, what kind of personality this empire noble in front of me had. I'd run endless simulations in my head, worrying from every angle...
'Even I can't just wipe out a whole group outright... Especially not from the Empire, the biggest power in this world.'
And now, a potential backer with such ideal ideals and instincts? My lips curled into a grin on their own.
Truth be told, if he'd struck me as a bad egg, I'd have just smashed a golid into his skull and turned him into a puppet. But with all that hassle off the table, I continued with a natural smile.
"If you say so... No point wasting time like this and risking slip-ups. Shall we get to the main topic?"
Haron, who'd been watching the little drama between Griham and us unfold while boredly picking his nose, finally seemed to think the tedious formalities were over. He stretched his arms dramatically, yawning as he stood.
"What the hell, picking your nose in a formal audience? That's why I don't bother with honorifics with you..."
"Hmph! You lot yapping boring shit—should I nod along like a bobblehead? Dream on! Enough, let's head to the back yard and pull out our pretty girl already."
"Damn geezer, you've only seen her once and you're calling her 'pretty'—bullshit..."
Formal, polite chit-chat didn't suit the boisterous dwarf's temperament, so he grumbled as he led the way. I stood too, pretending it was nothing.
We'd have to inspect the goods directly at the auction house anyway to set a fair price.
"Um... mind if I ask where we're going? As far as I know, you have the wyvern egg, Mr. Berg?"
Griham shot up, tilting his head as he chased after Haron, who was stumping out on his short legs, with Tier and me in tow.
He'd heard I'd handled the wyvern and completed the request, but not that I'd hauled the whole corpse back. 'This geezer was supposed to lay the groundwork beforehand to smooth things out...'
Unlike what we'd prepped, Griham blinked in confusion, still clueless. I shot Haron a look like what the hell is this?, but he just snorted and kept walking, his eyes screaming what do you punks know?
Irritation boiled up, ready to snap at him like a tattletale—then it hit me. This setup Haron had cooked up might actually pack more punch for haggling. I clamped my lips shut, glared at him once, and followed.
'He's got a plan, so he's playing it this way. Geezer knows my style.'
"This spot'll do. Last time's area got trashed from the blood she spilled, so I prepped a separate one this round."
Last time I'd shown off the wyvern corpse, I'd just dumped it in an open lot with no prep. Blood sprayed everywhere while Haron butchered the parts I'd requested, causing a huge mess. For him, who freaked out collecting the mana-catalyst blood-soaked dirt, it made sense—but I pursed my lips, annoyed that a mere wyvern was getting state-guest treatment. I stretched out my arm.
"Equipment forging going well? Pull that shit without updates again, and it's no fun..."
These weren't just for me—they were for my women. I'd spec'd them out with party needs in mind. Narrowing my eyes at Haron acting all high-handed, he flinched and nodded quickly.
Probably from how I'd gushed over my girls when placing the order.
"O-Of course. Not a bit less, not a bit more than you specified—don't worry."
Wait, exceeding specs was flexible, sure... His bizarre work ethic baffled me; I clutched my head and shook it.
'No, fine. As long as he makes exactly what I want, praise the bastard... Better than overkill ruining the look or usability... Ugh...'
Venting my stress from Haron's thick-headedness by eyeing Tier—her tail wagging excitedly at the wyvern sight—I opened my Inventory, mindful of Griham's constant head-tilts.
THUD!!!