Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Master of the Trading Company (3)
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I assembled the tribes. It was to explain our exchanges with the Empire and simultaneously take stock of any trade goods they possessed that held value.
I harbored no expectations of a positive response. Most of the warriors—especially the elders who subtly pulled the strings on decisions—still regarded the Empire with disdain.
It was anyone's guess whether they'd even accept the concept of currency. The steppes had always rejected new winds to ensure survival.
Rather than stepping in myself, I left the task of persuading the elders entirely to Meb. The reason was simple: it wasn't my place to meddle.
The reason the three leaders of the steppe alliance followed my orders—even while grumbling about me—was because I'd never abused the title of Great Warlord up to now.
If I gathered the tribes and slammed my axe on a table, demanding they hand over valuables, they'd comply in the moment. But in the long run, I'd lose far more. Had I treated them as mere subjects to discipline, I never would have earned recognition as the Great Warlord.
Still, just in case, I sent Harald along with her. But that did little to ease my worries.
Could she pull it off? Harald's wives kept multiplying nearly every year, but that alone wouldn't win her enough support.
I waited anxiously, stroking the mane of Purity Horn—the one nicknamed 'Uni'—tethered in the horse pen.
A short while later, the elders emerged from the tent in a cluster after the meeting. Their garments hung heavy, as if each clutched something inside.
"Ivar."
"Ur, how'd it go?"
Grand Tribal Chief Ur approached with a grin. He'd rallied the tribes to aid me during the subjugation of the Lord of Night.
A monkey's paw peeked from his sleeve—not one of the taxidermied tribal artifacts, but a wooden handicraft carved in an Imperial workshop.
"How did the negotiations play out?"
"That girl's got such a sweet way about her. Sharp as a tack, but no sneaky tricks up her sleeve."
"Did you secure the tribes' full agreement? What standards did you set for appraising the goods?"
"She asked after all our old grumblings and smoothed them over so neatly... Word is she's from a fine family, and since she doesn't worship foreign gods like the shamans do, Ishkar will be pleased too."
Were we even having a conversation? Ur went on and on praising Meb like some old man who'd landed the perfect daughter-in-law.
"She's perfect bride material. Might be a bit picky, but she'll make a fine mother."
"I never said anything about taking her as a bride."
"Well then, I'll be off. The young ones handle the small stuff better than I ever could, so leave it to them."
After he rode off on his karangal, still not getting through to him, I entered the tent where the meeting had taken place.
It looked like a flea market, littered with items left behind by the tribesfolk. Mostly jewelry or materials for crafting it—magic beast cores, minerals, and the like.
Evidently, things had gone well. I approached Meb, who knelt in the center. She suddenly whipped her head toward me, thrusting forward a milky, translucent stone she'd been appraising.
"This is pyroxenite."
"What's that?"
"It unleashes explosive energy from even the slightest impact... Anyway, it's expensive and useful in all sorts of ways."
"Is it now?"
According to Meb's explanation, unlike most resources starting with magic stones, pyroxenite had one special trait: no refining required. Simply bringing it into contact with another high-purity piece of the same quality would yield power at an intermediate level. That alone made it hugely valuable.
"I'll bring top-grade pyroxenite from the Empire to verify. This stuff here's low-grade, but if the vein size matches what I've heard, it'll fetch plenty."
Activating a trade route wasn't just about capital, so Meb planned to return to the Empire via Frostscale Canyon with Kael. She'd assemble a caravan there and bring it back to the steppes, while Kael headed to the capital.
They'd make multiple runs from the nearest city using the fastest path. By the time the Imperial reward reached the North, she'd have scaled up the operation enough to utilize it.
At any rate, what luck. An item I'd used as a fire starter at night had real applications after all.
Having finished appraising the rest, she seemed to reach a conclusion. The North was a land brimming with opportunity for commerce to flourish.
"Um, Great Warlord... sir."
"Just Ivar. No need for formalities if it feels awkward."
"Then... Ivar? I've been keeping meticulous records of everything you've done for me."
Meb loved putting a price on things. It bordered on obsession. She'd received so much already that she was desperate to repay me in kind somehow.
Her shares in the trading company she'd establish, management rights... All concepts that sounded complicated and pointless to me.
"And there's the personal help too."
"You mean the double eclipse?"
"Yes, that needs separate accounting. Right now, what I can offer is things like persuading the elders, as I did earlier, or standing in as proxy during negotiations with Imperial envoys..."
And then it spilled out: feeding Horori, tending the campfire in my stead. Even packing lunches while staying on the steppes.
She hesitated a moment, her golden pupils flickering rapidly downward.
"...Becoming a wife is off the table."
Even after I'd saved her from near-death at her sister's hands, there was a reason it couldn't happen.
Imperial Vault Keeper. The Empire's sole position granting access to manage its gold reserves.
Thus, for Meb, her value as a marriage ally for power outweighed even the price of her life. In a contradictory but self-imposed valuation, she kept the two from overlapping.
"I never asked you for that."
"The elders kept bringing it up in front of me until their mouths went dry, so I figured I'd mention it. Why haven't you married, anyway? Harald's got so many wives."
"It's my business."
I didn't dwell on the misery implicit in my curt reply. An outsider to trade like me had no intention of squeezing every last payment from her to begin with.
Heading outside, I mounted Satti and turned my steed in a direction away from where the tribes were departing.
"Anyway, gather the goods and head back to Stonegar. Once Kael's party's ready, tell Harald."
"Huh? You're not giving me a ride like on the way here?"
"I'm busy. Got other plans, so take their ride."
Fresh recruits—still green and constantly dragged into tribal affairs because their shifts hadn't filled up yet—were heading this way. The steppe alliance's trio.
I asked Kara to escort Meb back. She was currently minding Uni, which would one day be mine, and grudgingly agreed with a grumble.
Thus parting from the trio, on my way east. Bigo caught up on his karangal and grabbed me.
"Ivar!"
"What is it, Bigo?"
"Today, I challenge you to an honorable duel."
Bigo was an exceptional warrior. Still young, yet he'd already earned three tattoos, and his battle sense was innate.
If only he could temper his rivalry with me and focus on his own shortcomings. What irked me was how his enthusiasm overrode his composure at crucial moments.
"Sorry, but I've got things to do."
"Making excuses again! You'll say that and then just take another nap, won't you?"
He didn't buy it, probably because I'd dodged similar excuses around thirty times before. He dismounted his karangal and blocked my path.
He looked determined not to back down today, win or lose. With a small sigh, I tossed a small pouch at his feet.
"If you want a duel, take that and follow me."
"For real...? You mean it?"
"When have I ever lied?"
"More times than I can count."
I led him to my original destination: Frostscale Canyon.
He wondered why I was returning to a place I'd visited just days ago. Ignoring him, I mixed the powder from the pouch the shamans had given me with mud.
Smearing it on my body conjured red tattoos, as if birthed by Ancestral Power itself. The exact opposite of what Bigo, Kara, and Helga had used before to hide theirs and evade magic beasts.
"You too. Rub it on."
"What are you even doing?"
"From here on, we're beating down every magic beast in this canyon."
"What...?"
Kael's party had entered the steppes via the canyon, not Winterfall's gates, because the terrain here lent itself well to establishing a trade route.
On the vast, open steppes with no cover, magic beast territories constantly shifted. Even after slaying the local lord, a new one would claim it, exposing you to the same threats endlessly. But not Frostscale Canyon. Trim the beasts' numbers enough, and you could carve a safe path for small wagons.
Business wasn't my wheelhouse, but I had my uses elsewhere. Combat, naturally.
"I used to bet Harald—my brother—on who could kill more Imperial soldiers. If you want to duel me, first hunt more beasts here than I do."
"Ivar..."
"What?"
"Why didn't you tell that woman...?"
"What a foolish question."
Why hadn't I told Meb I was helping ensure her trading ventures succeeded safely? That would only complicate her calculations. Her head would explode. And cleaning up exploded brains is no easy task.
With vibrant tattoos painted across our bodies, the magic beasts began gathering. This time, the goal was to slaughter as many as possible, so I didn't draw Crawling Fire.
Instead, I wrapped a leather thong around the hand gripping my axe, binding it tight to avoid dropping it by mistake. We might fight for hours—or days—ahead.
Bigo clutched the pouch, his hand trembling. Watching him, I handed him a leather thong as well.
"Bigo, if you want to surpass me as a warrior someday, remember just one thing."
"What's that...?"
"Do it."
Not endless repetitive training. Not toppling stronger foes to claim glory.
"When there's something only you can do."
"Ivar...!"
"Don't step back."
"Don't run."
"Fight for your life-."
Those words ignited fighting spirit in Bigo's eyes.