The Silver Ice Merchant Guild
The leader of the Malacca Mercenary Troop sat in what he liked to call his office, facing a man so filthy the grime was practically running off him. In truth, the "office" was nothing more than a half-basement building they had taken over in the back alleys of Caladon.
A respectable mercenary company would have been out hunting for work at this hour. Alex had no intention of going anywhere. The Malacca Mercenary Troop's principal business was not guarding, and it was not escorting.
"How long did the guild give you?"
At Alex's words, the middle-aged man began to tremble. A year ago, he had been a merchant just starting a new venture in Caladon. The particulars were unclear, but the business had not gone well, and he had borrowed money from a major guild. The merchant who had once been bursting with dreams now found himself, in the space of a single year, sitting across from a vicious-looking man in a back-alley basement.
He rolled his eyes this way and that, unable to form an answer. Alex's mouth twisted into a crooked smile.
Alex's fist came down on the table like a hammer.
"Hiek!"
The middle-aged man let out a short, strangled scream. Tears began streaming down his face.
"P-please, just a little more time—"
The words never made it to the end. A fist drove into his face and sent him flying backward.
"Hurgh—!"
He let out a warped, gurgling cry, arms flailing. A bone had broken, and he had bitten through his tongue; blood ran freely from his nose and mouth.
"Try a different excuse."
Alex drawled the words, stretching them out. He already knew what was coming without hearing it. Business isn't going well. Just a little more time and I'll have it paid off before summer. I've got a promising venture in the works right now. Debtors always spun the same tired stories.
"You're broke, huh? Why the hell should I have to understand that?"
Alex said it while stroking his knuckles. His gaze drifted to one of the walls. A whip hung there, displayed like some expensive ornament.
The man caught that look and sucked in a sharp breath.
"You'd be better off just becoming a slave."
"I-I'm sorry! Please spare me!"
The man crawled all the way to the table and clung to Alex's legs. Alex snorted and kicked him square in the jaw. The toes of his boots had iron plates sewn into them — custom-made, built to break things. The man's teeth shattered as he flew backward.
"P-please…"
Even so, he tried somehow to get his body off the floor. It was not simply fear of the pain still to come. Alex taking that whip down from the wall was, in effect, an ultimatum. The slaves Alex sold to the slavers always bore the marks of a whipping, and there was not a soul in the back alleys who had not heard that rumor. Him picking up the whip meant he was already prepared to sell the man off.
Alex smiled thinly at the wretch desperately trying to cling to him. Then he took the whip in hand and looked down. The man's face began to twist with terror.
That was when someone knocked on the office door. Alex's brow furrowed at once.
"What?"
He snapped it, and a subordinate mercenary cautiously poked just his head through the gap.
"Uh… the Guildmaster of the Silver Ice Merchant Guild has arrived."
"Brother?"
Alex raised one eyebrow. Then he clicked his tongue softly and gave the order.
"Get this guy out of here."
"Yes, sir."
The man was dragged out, his body scraping across the floor, and vanished from the room. A moment later, Dofnik stepped inside.
"Same as ever."
"Well. Yeah."
Dofnik's face tightened at the blood splattered across the floor.
"Can't you mop that up?"
"Ah, come on, Brother. You know how I work. Cut me some slack?"
"Ugh. You crazy bastard."
Dofnik shrugged, righted the chair that had been knocked over, and sat down.
"What brings you? Isn't this your busiest season?"
Summer was closing in. For the Silver Ice Merchant Guild, which made its living distributing ice, the coming weeks were about to become the most frantic of the year. Alex nodded as if he had already figured it out.
"Ah. So some bastard's crawled out of the woodwork to get in the way again?"
Dofnik nodded. Alex dropped into the seat across from him and snickered.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? You always said nobody in their right mind messes with the ice trade."
"It's not some drifter who wandered in."
"Huh? Then what? A guild already in the city starting something new?"
"A place called the Kerbe Merchant Guild. They're selling artifacts."
Alex rolled his eyes this way and that, then shook his head.
"Don't ring a bell. You know my memory's shit."
"Yeah. That's why I never kept you in the guild."
Dofnik snorted. The two of them had traveled together back in their peddler days. Unlike Dofnik, who had a decent head for commerce, Alex had no particular gifts beyond using his fists. In truth, they had spent more time pretending to be peddlers and robbing whoever passed by.
"Well. That's why I'm doing this other line of work. So… you want me to take care of them?"
"I'm not saying kill them, specifically."
"Ah, right. Just rough 'em up like usual, then."
If you carelessly jumped into someone else's business, this was what happened. All they needed was to have that lesson beaten into their bones and their hide. That was the idea.
Dofnik drew a sheet of paper from his coat. It listed the Kerbe Merchant Guild's location, along with the guildmaster's name and distinguishing features.
"When should I go?"
"Sooner the better. Not like you've got anything else going on, right?"
"Don't I? Didn't you see the guy who just left?"
"Bullshit. You were gonna sell him off anyway."
Alex snorted and shrugged. It was not exactly wrong.
"Anything I should watch out for?"
"Don't touch the mage if you can help it."
Alex's brow furrowed.
"A mage? What mage?"
"What the Kerbe Guild is selling is an artifact that makes ice. There'll be a mage who makes those."
"Why shouldn't I touch him? You think I'll get my ass handed to me?"
Ordinary folk always trembled at the word mage, but as far as Alex was concerned, that was just the ignorance of people who had never met one. When you actually ran into them, they were all just assholes with shit personalities. Nothing special.
At Alex's question, Dofnik tapped his temple with a thick forefinger.
"You idiot. Think about it. An artifact that makes ice."
Alex pondered that for a moment, then nodded.
"Ahh… if the Kerbe Guild folds, we swallow that mage whole?"
"Ugh. Of course that's the idea."
Dofnik's plan was simple. If the Kerbe Guild got scared and broke off their arrangement with the mage, he would then try contacting the mage himself. Then, as always, he could absorb the connections other people had gone to the trouble of building.
Having said as much, Dofnik pulled a pouch from his coat and set it on the table. It looked heavy at a glance, and silver glinted through the gaps in the cloth. Alex reached out at once and plucked the smoothest silver coin from among them.
"This oughta be enough to have some fun."
Alex muttered it with a nasty little giggle.
"I'm heading out for a bit."
"To the Kerbe Merchant Guild, sir?"
"That's right."
The sun was going down, the sky already deepening toward dusk. As Joseph prepared to leave, Givra looked at him with a worried face.
"This may be a city, but it's dangerous once the sun goes down."
"I'll just drop this off and come right back."
Even so, it was not as if he could simply stay home. Joseph had been visiting the Kerbe Merchant Guild every day for the past several days, delivering the completed artifacts to Braham.
"Couldn't you send the servants, sir? If you told the guild, they'd send someone themselves…"
Givra's suggestion was perfectly reasonable, but Joseph shook his head. This was not some ordinary errand — it was the transport of artifacts. For the time being, he intended to handle it himself. These were pieces he had labored to create, and he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that they arrived intact.
Besides, Toban was still working alone, so the daily output was hardly overwhelming. According to Toban, the tools Braham had provided had sped things up a little, but even so, three or four pieces a day was the limit. As a result, Joseph rarely had occasion to use his enchantment magic. He spent the better part of each day on magic training as it was, so treating the delivery as a walk seemed like a decent idea.
"There's also something simple I need to discuss…"
Joseph headed for the Kerbe Merchant Guild with Derik in tow. As they drew near the guild, he could see a guard in the distance already bowing at the waist. Doing this every day, they seemed to have grown used to him.
"Good evening, Mage."
"Yes."
Joseph nodded and was shown straight up to the second floor. Braham did not seem to care in the slightest that Joseph had arrived at such a late hour.
"You've arrived! You've worked so hard again today!"
If anything, a huge grin spread across his entire face as he went out of his way to receive Joseph as warmly as possible. The eagerness was so awkward that Joseph could hardly believe this was the same seasoned merchant he had first met.
When Joseph produced the completed artifacts, Braham immediately brought over a box. It was so heavily laden with ornate decorations on the outside that it was obvious he intended to sell them openly to the nobility.
"The artifacts seem to be getting quite a good response?"
"Good doesn't even begin to cover it! We can't keep them in stock."
He said it and then threw his head back with a great booming laugh. The sound was so faintly foolish that Joseph let out a wry chuckle of his own. The two of them went on chatting lightly after that.
And then—
A sharp crash rang out from below. Something had shattered.
"Huh?"
At the sound, Joseph was on his feet before he had even thought about it. Three Mana Orbs rose into the air around him in the same instant.
"Who the hell are you— argh!"
A guard mercenary's voice came from the first floor, followed by a dull, heavy thud.
"Wh-what?!"
Braham started up in a panic, and Joseph stopped him.
"Please wait here."
There was no telling what was happening downstairs. In that situation, Braham putting himself forward first was not a good choice.
"Tear the place apart!"
"You bastard!"
Derik's voice came from below. Joseph burst out of the parlor at once.
From the stairs, the first floor was laid out below him in full view. Unidentified men with their faces covered had Derik surrounded, clubs in their hands. Guards and servants lay sprawled across the floor, clutching at broken arms and legs.
Derik was bleeding steadily from his head — he had taken a blow there.
When Joseph appeared on the second floor, the man standing farthest to the right made a startled sound.
"Hey, shit. It's the mage!"
He was shouting about the Mana Orbs floating around Joseph. At his voice, the others' eyes snapped toward the second floor as well.
"Derik! Fall back!"
Joseph shouted it and swept his staff through the air. Two more Mana Orbs rose around him. Five in total now, settling into position in an instant.
"Hey! He's doing something!"
The moment Joseph moved, the masked men spun to run.
They were far too slow.
Joseph's Mana Orbs flew faster than the men could even twist their bodies to flee. All five shot forward at once.
A choked cry. A crashing, tangled heap.
The masked men slammed into the wall together.