The Youngest Son of the Notorious Nouveau Riche Family (2)
"Aigoo, welcome, welcome! Young Master Chrome! My name is Dorf Brams, and I have the tremendous honor of attending to you from now on!"
The man with the sly face—one that looked like he’d try to scam the hero out of a magic lamp in the Arabian Nights—kept bowing and scraping before me. I was genuinely worried he might strain his back. At least it seems I’m being treated as someone valuable.
Given that my current life’s mother, whose face I couldn’t even remember, had already been poisoned to death, I’d been concerned I might end up as some unwanted burden. This was a relief. Still, if the head of the family was one thing, what the hell was that maid’s deal?
Is she close enough to the patriarch that she doesn’t need to watch her attitude around me? With a face like hers, it wouldn’t be strange if she were his hidden mistress.
I tucked the nameless maid away in a corner of my mind and spoke to Dorf.
"So what exactly am I supposed to do? The patriarch told me to watch your work carefully."
I tried to match my tone to my current position as I asked. He answered with an ingratiating smile.
"Haha, it’s nothing special, Young Master. It’s a modest charitable endeavor."
"Charity?"
The word sounded so out of place for this family that I tilted my head. Dorf continued.
"It’s simply delivering food supplies that a nearby lord has ordered. Please, this way, Young Master."
If it’s handing over goods that were ordered, isn’t that just a transaction, not charity?
Even as I harbored that doubt, I followed Dorf’s lead. There, several laborers were loading large sacks onto cargo wagons.
"Hey, John! Don’t just slam it down because it’s heavy—handle it with care! Would you treat your own balls like that if they were inside?!"
"Sorry!"
"Useless bastards! Even a half-dead old dog would work faster than you lot!"
"This doesn’t look like charity work. More like you’re heading out to bury someone," I remarked.
"Ahem! Hm, hm!"
My single comment made Dorf cough awkwardly in embarrassment. The burly man who had been spewing thick curses at the workers finally noticed us and turned his gaze our way.
"Welcome, Manager Dorf. The work is proceeding smoothly! We’ll be able to depart tomorrow without issue, so please rest easy."
"That’s good to hear, but… could you perhaps conduct the work with a bit more dignity?"
"Dignity, sir? In what way exactly…"
"…Never mind."
Dorf glanced briefly at the man’s scarred face and the bulging, copper-toned arms exposed by his sleeveless shirt, then shook his head. I could fully understand how he felt.
"This is Young Master Chrome. He is the patriarch’s precious son, so make sure he experiences no discomfort during the journey."
"A pleasure to meet you, Young Master Chrome."
"This is Clark, leader of the Brown Wolf Mercenary Group we’ll be working with. I’ve commissioned them a few times before—they’re quite skilled."
"Nice to meet you. But why are the mercenaries moving the cargo?"
"Better to earn a few extra coins than just sit around wasting time and food while we wait, right?"
How efficiently pragmatic.
It seemed there were no mercenaries here shouting, We weren’t hired for this! Or if there had been, they’d probably been silenced by those massive arms.
"Huh?"
While I was blankly watching the work, a strange sight caught my eye.
What the hell is that?
At first I thought one of the sacks was floating in midair. But on closer look, a figure so small it had been hidden behind the sack was lifting and carrying a bag nearly as big as they were. Only when the person set the load down and their hands became empty could I see them clearly.
It was a girl who looked about my age. Brown eyes and brown hair. Her shoulder-length locks were tied back neatly with a string, and her clothes, reinforced with leather patches here and there, looked simple yet practical.
The other two seemed to notice what I was staring at and turned their gazes toward the girl as well. Dorf frowned slightly.
"I don’t recall seeing this little one during last year’s contract. Is she perhaps your child, or one of your men’s?"
"No way, sir." Clark waved his hands in denial. "She joined our mercenary group about half a year ago. She’s small, but she’s surprisingly strong and good with chores, so we’ve been bringing her along."
"Will she be participating in this job as well?"
"That was the plan, but…"
"Hmm."
Clark’s face gradually hardened as he watched Dorf’s blatantly uncomfortable expression. I started to feel puzzled too. What exactly was he about to—
"Exclude that child from this job. In fact, it would be best if you removed her from the mercenary group entirely."
…Excuse me?
The Brown Wolf Mercenary Group was a veteran company that had even participated in the war against the Ivestan Empire when it was founded twenty years ago. Its second leader, Clark, was a man whose speech and behavior were rather rough and who was quite persistent about money. Yet he possessed genuine skill and a surprisingly caring personality, and many of his members trusted him deeply.
And almost none of the members failed to notice the displeasure now leaking from Clark’s voice.
"You will be acting as part of our Midas Merchant Group on this trip. When we’re handling official business, how ridiculous would it look to outsiders if some brat were mixed in among us?"
"Then wouldn’t it be enough to simply exclude her from this particular job? Asking us to kick her out of the group entirely seems a bit excessive."
"Tsk, you’re not listening. Right now we’re employing you under a request, but soon I plan to ask the patriarch to officially bring your group into our fold. Then you won’t have to live like floating weeds anymore. Wouldn’t it be better to have as few questionable elements as possible?"
"We appreciate the goodwill, but—"
One of the members carrying a sack full of grain asked the man beside him.
"What the hell is that about? Why’s the captain so pissed?"
"The client says the rookie is an eyesore and wants her removed."
"What? Has that pot-bellied bastard lost his mind?!"
The member who grasped the situation became furious as if it were his own problem. And not just him—many of the others who heard the story shared similar feelings. It wasn’t so much tight-knit loyalty or camaraderie as a matter of pride.
No matter how much the other party was the client paying them, that was only by contract. They hadn’t become the man’s subordinates. So who was he to order them around about internal mercenary group affairs?
"I didn’t like that Dorf or Torf or whatever from the moment I saw his face."
"All the guys working for the Midas family are like that."
Of course, not everyone shared the same opinion.
Can’t we just bow our heads and go along with it? It won’t do us any good to get on the employer’s bad side.
We don’t have many clients this good. Are we really going to throw it away over a kid who’s only been with us a short while? That’s insane.
I heard that becoming part of the Midas group means even a mere warehouse worker earns more than us. If we mess this up…
Since there were ears listening, they couldn’t say it openly, but there were also those who hoped Clark would quickly lower his head and accommodate the client. The Midas Merchant Group’s methods were vicious, but they possessed enormous wealth, and the power of money was absolute.
When a bundle stuffed with gold coins was placed right in front of you, what did it matter if the person handing it over was a villain or not? Since they were mercenaries who lived day to day, becoming official members of the Midas Merchant Group was a powerful temptation.
"……"
The girl at the center of the topic had tried to ignore it and focus on her work at first. But when the subtle glances and murmuring continued, she frowned and stopped moving. And right when she seemed about to react—
"Hey, why don’t you ease up a little?"
The boy who had stayed silent and watched the situation until now—me, Chrome—finally spoke.
"Y-Young Master?"
"Mr. Dorf, do you have some complaint about me?"
When I snapped at him with an expression that was obviously full of displeasure, Dorf Brams looked utterly flustered.
"N-No, of course not!"
"Really? Then why does it sound to me like you’re using that girl as an excuse to take a dig at me? That having a child around would look ridiculous, or that it’d be better to remove her from the start."
"That’s not it at all! I didn’t mean it that way—"
Dorf desperately tried to make excuses, but I ignored him. I hadn’t actually stepped in because I was truly angry; that was just an excuse. So why did I intervene? Because the atmosphere had gone to complete shit!
We were supposed to start working together with these people from now on. Yet this man was pouring oil on the fire and playing with matches before we’d even begun. Was he the type of middle manager who, after suffering under a boss with a rotten personality, took it out on the subcontractor? Come to think of it, even I—who had only faced the patriarch for less than a minute—found him infuriating. How much stress must the people working under him be under?
But understanding that and allowing a situation that might cause me harm were two different things.
"You really don’t have any complaints, right?"
"Of course not! So please, if you would clear up this misunderstanding—"
It’s fine, old man. I’m not angry, so stop making that pitiful face. You were so arrogant toward that hulking mercenary captain, yet you’re groveling like this to me. The power of money really is terrifying.
"Well, if there’s no problem, then that settles it. Ah, Captain Clark?"
"You can call me Clark comfortably, Young Master."
"Right. Then, Clark. Since there’s no issue, I’ll leave the cleanup to you. It looks like your men are itching to run their mouths, but I trust there won’t be any delay in finishing on time because they’re busy chatting?"
"Hahaha! Leave that to me! Kicking the asses of these slowpoke bastards is my specialty! Hey! You damned sons of bitches, move it, move it—"
Freed from the wicked client Dorf, Captain Clark began spewing fire from his mouth again. The members shouted in alarm and started moving as if their feet were on fire.
Good. It seemed to have passed without major incident. Now I needed to organize the next part of the schedule.