Chapter 92
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: The Scent of Money (2)
Federback holed up in the training hall the moment he returned to the castle.
When the sweat he shed while swinging his sword had filled an entire jar, Rorschach came to visit him in the training hall.
"Does this cave have its own hot spring or something? It's always so steamy hot whenever I come here."
"Perfect timing. I have a task for you."
"I haven't even given my report on the last matter yet."
"I'm busy, so handle this first."
As Federback approached swiftly, Rorschach flinched and took half a step back.
He spoke curtly toward her, her ear tips flushed red.
"Among the merchants who entered the castle today, there's a woman named Portia. She seems to be selling apples. Bring her to me."
"Portia? That's a southern name. A new woman?"
"A question premised on the idea that there aren't already women."
Rorschach furrowed her brow in displeasure at Federback's response.
"Just where do you go to meet all these women, Young Master?"
"I saw her for the first time today, in front of the castle gates."
"Oh, really? Love at first sight? I'm an administrator, not a matchmaker. Have one of the other servants bring her. I'm barely getting two hours of sleep a day just handling the merchant guild tasks you assigned me..."
"That's exactly why I'm asking you to bring her. No more chatter—go get her."
"Ah! It's for business, then. Understood. You should have said so earlier."
Rorschach's expression brightened again at Federback's reply.
As she jotted down 'Portia' in her notebook, she asked,
"A merchant, right? Name: Portia. Handling produce, specifically apples. Correct?"
"Correct. Early twenties. Short hair, dressed as a man, so keep that in mind. She's sharp in business, so don't say too much."
"...A heroine with that kind of setup. First it's gaining weight, now cross-dressing? Another of your tastes revealed, Young Master."
Federback completely ignored Rorschach as she pinched and pulled at her slightly protruding belly.
'Meeting Portia at this point in time is a bit unexpected.'
What Federback was pondering were memories from before his regression.
The Golden Queen, Portia.
That was the name of the mega-merchant who had shaken the entire continent before his regression.
'It'll be a few more years before she makes her mark in the financial world.'
Even seasoned tycoons struggled to broker more than one or two trades with the North in a lifetime, yet she would successfully pull off over twenty.
After that, she rocketed to become a major player in the empire's economy, armed with god-given investment instincts, luck that seemed loved by the whole world, and business ac prowess that left people in awe, sweeping up the wealth of the entire globe.
To the point where a new proverb emerged: 'If Portia buys or sells it, even dog shit is worth more than gold.'
Before regressing, back in his unawakened, good-for-nothing days, Federback had learned of her existence while buying up numerous artworks, and they had built up a considerable rapport.
Portia had recognized his exceptional artistic sense and taste, bringing him countless high-priced pieces, which ended up putting a massive hole in the Meursault finances.
'Of course, it wasn't Portia's fault. Back then, I was just a clueless brat who knew nothing of the world.'
Federback sighed lightly as he recalled the time he had embezzled family funds to buy paintings, sculptures, and instruments.
But it wasn't Portia's fault for treating him as a regular customer and selling him artworks.
A merchant simply sells goods; buying them is the customer's free choice.
Besides, every artwork Portia sold him was authentic and of excellent value.
'Even when fakes were occasionally identified, she not only refunded the full amount but paid double compensation.'
That was how reliable Portia was as a trader.
Federback stroked his chin.
'At this stage, she's still wandering around in disguise, scraping together her starting capital. Why come to the North so early?'
Of course, he had a hunch.
The shifting status of the North.
The burgeoning Northern economy might have created new flows reaching the center.
And sure enough, Rorschach reported exactly that.
"With trade missions succeeding one after another, merchants are flocking in. There were some trying to gouge prices, but market forces sorted them out. Prices are stabilizing gradually, and with more variety in goods, the territory's people are developing better tastes too."
"Good momentum. By the way, did you deliver the research materials to Quinbits?"
"That's not under my jurisdiction, so no idea."
"Surprising that there's something about the territory's affairs you don't know."
"Why would I need to know Quinbits's situation? I do know that this quarter's research funds were paid in full, that she's clueless about money and blew through them buying massive quantities of magic tools and alchemy materials like it was nothing, leaving funds nearly depleted, and that the new research material you sent with the knights this time—the corpse of that guy named Habu or whatever—arrived safely, making Quinbits so thrilled she nearly fainted."
"You have it all figured out, yet you say you don't know."
"Anyway, I don't."
Rorschach turned her gaze away with a sulky expression.
Federback nodded.
"The reason I can go out and swing my sword without worry is because you're holding down the fort here, Rorschach. Thank you."
"...Huh?"
In an instant, Rorschach's face turned as red as a ripe apple.
She turned her steaming, flushed face away from Federback.
"Why the sudden praise...?"
"That's why I need you to look into dwellings for the dwarves."
"Wait, what do dwarves have to do with anything?"
Rorschach's head snapped back into place at Federback's immediate follow-up order, her expression baffled.
"Dwarves, huh? Why dwarves...?"
"To smelt mithril and orichalcum. They're skilled miners and smiths."
"I thought dwarves hadn't appeared in human history books for quite some time."
"An honor. You're the one who'll put their names back in human history."
"...Sigh."
Rorschach pressed her hand to her forehead.
Federback pointed his finger as if something had just occurred to him.
"There's a city called Dvergr in the empire's northeast. Focus your search on the folk tales there."
"Do you know something?"
"Maybe. Not certain."
Federback continued, rummaging through pre-regression memories.
"Anyway. Go to the mining villages there, talk to the elders, and you'll find leads."
"Got it. I can't go myself, so I'll send reliable soldiers."
As Rorschach nodded,
"Federback!"
Someone burst into the training hall.
Quinbits, calling out with a bright expression.
"The analysis of Shedioldis's body is complete! That Habu guy too... Hm!?"
She had been hopping toward Federback but stopped in front of Rorschach.
"...".
"...".
Rorschach and Quinbits faced each other.
The air inside the training hall twisted subtly.
"...Quinbits the mage does come out of her lab sometimes? I thought you were someone hard to meet face-to-face."
Rorschach spoke first.
Quinbits replied.
"...I'm not as sociable as you, Administrator Rorschach. I only talk to Federback."
"...I'm sociable?"
"...Yes. I really only talk to Federback."
"...Ah, yes. You're talking to me right now too."
"...Hohoho."
"...Hehehe."
Rorschach and Quinbits smiled faintly at each other.
But the atmosphere in the cave grew colder by the minute.
To the point of reminding Federback of his battle with the ice dragon Adara.
"...I never learned how to get along with subordinates."
Federback thought as he lounged in the bath.
In the final war against the Demon King, all his party members got along well.
There were no other survivors besides demons, so no need to hate each other.
Thus, Federback couldn't grasp the psychology behind Rorschach and Quinbits's subtle rivalry.
He didn't even know why they were growling at each other.
"Like kittens and puppies snarling. They'll get along as they grow."
Federback read the report while soaking in the hot water.
It detailed Shedioldis's activities before joining House Prossange.
Apparently, Viscount Serubret, the former head of Prossange, had done thorough background checks before taking her on as a retainer.
Federback read the report aloud.
"Name: Shedioldis. Gender: presumed female. Age: presumed mid-forties. Realm: presumed 4th Circle or equivalent... All presumptions."
But her movements were fairly accurately documented.
"Three years ago, discovered and recruited by Viscount Serubret Prossange during a business trip to the central capital. No external interactions in the past three years. Resided alone in the Star Tower, providing various consultations. Primarily prophesied near-future events via magic crystal orbs. Notable trait: consumes strictly meat-based meals five or six times a day, over 10-man portions per sitting."
No other info.
Federback flipped through the pages quickly.
Soon, one noteworthy fact caught his eye.
"Received exactly one letter from outside. From Haraldskvedy Merchant Company in the central capital. Haraldskvedy is the financial arm under Marquis Berserkir."
The name 'Berserkir' mentioned again.
Federback read the next page.
"Letter contents unknown, but the next day, Shedioldis filed for extended business trip. Destination: 'Free City of Cappkas.' She departed for Cappkas for about six months. Departure recorded, but no return record."
The bathwater, once hot, cooled.
Federback murmured a city's name.
"Cappkas..."
The Free City of Cappkas.
Like Dvergr City, which he had tasked Rorschach with investigating for dwarves, it was at the far northeast end of the empire.
"Where the 'Tombs of Mad Kings' lie."
Federback stroked his chin.
Cappkas was a fearsome city.
To the extent of the old proverb: 'When a king goes mad, he wages war on Cappkas.'
The scorching sunlight could melt even iron into mush, and the endless desert held only salt and sand.
Its climate, terrain, and flora were as harsh as the North.
Moreover, its myriad inhabitants were all battle-hardened warrior races, preserving the barbarism and belligerence handed down from ancient ancestors.
"Perfect place for plotting something shady."
Federback gripped the report tighter.
Crack—crack—crack—
The report froze solid,
...then shattered into pieces!
"I see what they're up to."
Federback's eyes slowly closed as he sank into the bath.