The Value of Gold (1)
Crash!
"Excuse me! Has a unicorn come this way?!"
A figure burst through what had, only moments before, been a door—now reduced to splinters she kicked aside as she rushed in. Shoulder-length hair that swayed with every step, deep brown eyes. It was Daisy. She was breathing hard, clearly having chased after the unicorn that had rampaged off earlier.
"Uh..."
The moment she stepped inside, the scene that greeted her felt utterly divorced from reality. A unicorn lay sprawled on the floor, drooling and weeping, while Estel shoved it away with the tip of her foot as if it were filthy refuse. Off to one side, a paladin was pressed flat against the wall, trying to stay clear of both of them.
Daisy's expression turned puzzled. What on earth was going on? Then her eyes met the paladin's, and he waved in recognition.
"Daisy, you got here fast."
"Ah—Sir Paladin! I'm so sorry. Did the unicorn cause another incident...?"
Daisy fidgeted with her fingers, voice trailing off anxiously. It was hardly surprising.
How many disasters had that unicorn already caused while rampaging through the Pantheon?
Barging into the nuns' dormitory was practically a daily occurrence. Demanding lap pillows, then forcibly loading someone onto his back and soaring through the skies over the Holy City... Not to mention leering at every woman who passed by on the street...
Listing them all would only make her mouth tired. No wonder even those who had once revered him as a sacred beast bestowed by the Sixth God had fled within two days.
Given the unicorn's spectacular track record, Daisy assumed he had caused yet another mess this time as well.
"Hahaha! No, no, Daisy. This time the unicorn didn't cause any trouble at all."
"...Pardon?"
"Lady Estel over there subdued him. Ah—have you heard the rumors? The elves who appeared riding a blue dragon? You've heard of them, right?"
"Ah, yes. I have."
"Good, that makes this quicker. The lady here is the last remaining elf on the surface. We were in the middle of an interview for more detailed information when..."
The paladin's words trailed off as he gestured with his shoulder toward the door. The wreckage left by the unicorn's entrance. Shattered fragments littered the floor.
So in the end, he had caused an incident.
Daisy hung her head.
"Well, it's not that big a deal. And thanks to this, we might have found a way to handle the unicorn."
"...Really? Could you tell me how?"
There was a method to control that stubborn, monstrously strong horse? Daisy's eyes went round as she stared up at the paladin.
Her clear brown irises sparkled. It was a gaze attack on par with an abandoned kitten's.
The paladin grinned mischievously and winked at her.
"Well... it's not really a method for you to know just yet. I'll tell you when you're a bit older."
"Ah, yes. I understand."
Daisy withdrew without protest. Watching her retreat so quietly, the paladin wore a strange expression.
A mature child.
That was what people who knew Daisy always said. Sometimes she acted exactly like a girl her age; at other times she displayed a maturity that was almost startling.
She never threw tantrums. Never forced her way. When fights broke out while playing with peers, she was the one who apologized and yielded. Even when she wanted something, she bit her lip and walked past.
Perhaps the poor, harsh, and terrible memories of her past had left deep scars on her. The thought worried the paladin a little.
Still, it's a relief she has someone she can relax around.
If there was one person with whom Daisy allowed herself to act spoiled, it was probably—
"Daisy—! Daisy, are you in here?"
"Hans!"
The composed girl spun her head around with an audible whoosh and bolted. She kept her momentum and launched herself into the air.
A solid thud rang out, but Hans caught her with practiced ease.
"Urgh... I told you not to jump at me like that..."
He set Daisy down and gently rubbed his lower abdomen. Then his eyes met the paladin's, and he offered a polite greeting.
"Ah, good work as always."
"Not at all. You're the one who's always working hard, Sir Hans."
"I'm just doing the usual. Oh—but I heard the unicorn was causing a ruckus, so I came running. Did he...?"
He had clearly sprinted over the moment he heard the unicorn was making trouble. Hans gestured at the door fragments, his expression practically begging them to say it wasn't so.
"Haha."
"Haah... I'm sorry."
The paladin's empty laugh said everything.
Hans bowed his head deeply. The fault of a kept animal was the owner's fault. The responsibility for inadequate supervision rested with him.
"No, it's fine. It's not as if we don't know your circumstances, Sir Hans. You're already doing more than enough."
"Just hearing you say that... I'm truly grateful."
For the past few days Hans had been half-confined at the Theological Research Institute, thoroughly grilled. Half of his own free will, half not—he was cooperating with their research.
The Rune of Speed and the Rune of Courage engraved on Hans's longsword.
The strokes of the runes said to have been made by a god, their pronunciation, meaning, etymology, activation conditions, power... To the theologians, Hans's longsword was a mouthwatering research subject.
"This stroke! This vigorous hook where the lines meet! There must be meaning in it!"
"Ohhh! Ohhh! Characters of such rapturous form! From meaning to pronunciation to power—research topics overflowing!! I'm so happy!!"
"Uh..."
The theologians had practically thrown themselves at Hans's longsword as if ready to lick it. Imagine a pack of hunting dogs long starved, all pouncing on prey at once—that was the scene.
Men who had dedicated their lives to scholarly passion and intellect clung to Hans from early dawn until late dawn without releasing him.
Yes—from early dawn until late dawn. Nearly an entire day, in other words.
"You should go get some sleep. You look exhausted."
"Aigoo. No, even so—it's my unicorn. I should be the one cleaning up after—"
"Sir Hans looks ready to collapse at any moment. I'm perfectly fine, so please go rest."
"Ah... then I'll shamelessly take you up on that. Thank you so much..."
Indeed, deep shadows hung under Hans's eyes. He looked like a mummy whose life force had been completely drained. He must have just been released after being held by the theologians.
Had he been heading to his quarters and come straight here instead?
"Haaawn— ahh... I'm so sleepy."
"Are you all right, Hans? I recently learned from Mother how to brew a warm tea that's good for fatigue. Shall I make you a cup?"
"Oh, really? Then one cup, please."
Hans dragged his weary body out of the room in a shambling walk. Daisy quickly moved to support him, not forgetting to bow politely to the paladin on the way out.
What a precious child.
Watching Hans and Daisy's retreating figures disappear down the corridor, the paladin turned to Estel.
"Ahem. Lady Estel? The room's a mess. Shall we move to another and continue our conversation?"
"Hoo— fine. I'd prefer if no more of these perverted beasts come bursting in next time."
"Haha... that won't happen again."
Estel, who had been stomping on the fallen unicorn, followed the paladin out of the room.
Creak—
"Here we are, please go—"
The paladin, about to enter a room at the end of the corridor, suddenly stopped and smacked his own forehead.
Like someone who had remembered something far too late.
"Ah— ah, damn it!"
That was exactly the case. Having been dragged out on his day off, he had completely forgotten to summon the person actually in charge of this matter.
Estel shot him a sidelong glance at the sudden outburst. The paladin gave an awkward laugh and looked at her.
"Ha, haha. Ah— what should I do? I completely forgot to call the person overseeing this whole affair... haha..."
"And?"
"I'm truly sorry, but if you could just wait inside for a moment! Just a very brief moment, I'll bring the person in charge right away! Only a moment!"
"...Haa."
Estel let out a small sigh and obediently entered the room.
"Please rest well inside! I'll be back soon! Really soon!"
Thud-thud-thud!
The paladin shut the door and sprinted off at full speed, even drawing on holy power. Even if he had been pulled in on his day off, how could he have made such a mistake?
Racing down the corridor, he soon reached the door he sought. He pounded on it.
"Lady Selina! Lady Selina! Are you in? I have something urgent to report!"
"..."
No answer came. Was no one there?
...I can sense a presence inside, though.
There was definitely a human presence beyond the door. The paladin carefully opened it. Ordinarily he would never commit such rudeness, but Estel was waiting—he needed to return as quickly as possible.
Creak—
"Excuse me..."
The door, well-oiled and carefully maintained, swung open smoothly without a sound.
"...Haa... haa..."
"Uh—."
Selina, with her black cat ears, was inside the room.
She was deeply asleep, slumped over her desk. Papers were scattered everywhere around her, as if she had been working on documents right up until she dozed off.
She was so deeply asleep that drool had poured from her mouth and formed a small lake. On the saliva-soaked documents, faint ink revealed the words "slaves... northern subjugation and beastkin..."
Faced with this unexpected sight, the paladin stood frozen, unsure what to do.
Then Selina, sensing a presence, jerked upright.
"...Slurp. Mm...?"
"Pffft!"
The state of Selina, who had just woken, was truly pitiful. One cheek was red and flattened from the desk, a document was stuck to her face by drool, and her hair stuck out in every direction from however long she had slept.
The paladin had to pinch his own thigh to desperately hold back laughter.
"Huh...? Eh?"
It did not take the newly awakened Selina long to become aware of her own appearance.
Clink— clink—
A clear metallic sound rang out. The sweetest symphony in the world, an ecstasy felt through the ears.
The sound of gold coins stacking.
That fantastical, entrancing resonance created as coin after coin piled neatly atop one another!
Ohhh— gold.
The brilliant sun of the earth, a terrifying demon that captivated the soul with its dazzling, beautiful light and turned men into slaves.
Yet if demons were the enemies of mankind, then gold was mankind's eternal friend.
Gold never betrayed. It was a faithful companion that remained loyally at one's side. Gold was everything, and everything was connected to gold.
Yes. Everything was connected to gold.
Clank—
The heavy sound of chains reached the ear.
The mournful weeping of chains dragged through mud. It was as if the chains themselves were crying in place of those they bound.
"..."
"..."
One chain met another, twisting their bodies together, then stretched out to yet another chain and wove themselves anew. Dozens of times over. The snake made of chains slowly crawled across the ground.
Its body was steel chain; its legs were human.
Clank—
The only difference was the animal ears growing from their heads, and the tails.
"Heh heh heh."
To the eyes of the slave trader Cagan, even the snowfield that swallowed men whole and the blizzard that erased all sight looked like blessings. He could already see the vast mountain of gold before him.
Twenty beastkin bound in chains.
One might call it a mere twenty, but considering their rarity and value, they were precious goods whose price was whatever the seller named.
Heh heh, my luck was excellent. Who would have thought there would be this many beastkin in Montegros of the North!
It was as if gold itself were rolling about on the ground.
In the North of old, he would never have dared even attempt to kidnap beastkin, but recently the North had been in utter turmoil.
Large and small battles broke out without end, their frequency rising rapidly, the scent of war thick in the air. Cagan had moved swiftly amid the chaos, gathering his goods and preparing to slip away.
"Heh heh heh heh. As expected, the diligent merchant is the one who makes the most gold."
Cagan murmured with a satisfied smile, stroking his chin. His thick jaw folded into three layers and jiggled.
While he rolled gold coins in his hand and spun happy fantasies, a subordinate approached.
"Huh? What is it?"
"Boss Cagan, some weird guy up ahead says he wants to see you."
"What? In the middle of this snowfield? Alone?"
"Yes, alone."
What kind of nonsense was that? Curious to see the face of whatever madman it was, Cagan waddled forward on his massive frame.
With every step his belly fat swayed dynamically left and right, up and down.
"That one?"
"Yes, that's him."
"He really is alone. Is he insane?"
The figure who had blocked Cagan's slave caravan was like black ink. A single drop of black ink fallen upon the white canvas of the snowfield.
Strangely, even while looking straight at the one standing before them, he would not properly enter their vision. Their eyes kept trembling, refusing to gaze upon him directly.
Instinct rejected him. It screamed at its master not to look, thrashing in warning.
"Wh-wh-what the hell are you?!"
His hands shook. It was not the cold. That black-ink creature.
A blade colder than the chill itself seemed to dig into his bones. Something thick, sticky, dark and damp clung to that figure.
The terror of standing before an overwhelming predator.
Cagan and his men could not even think of fleeing; they stood frozen in place. For an instant they were like specimens pinned to a board—taxidermied into a corner of reality.
Breath stopped. Movement stopped.
Thought stopped. His heart stopped—then thud!—began beating again.
"Huuuurgh! Huu— huuh! Uwaaah!"
Cagan toppled backward and scrambled away on his rear in a frenzy. His subordinates spun around and fled far into the distance.
A monster! It was a monster! No—not merely a monster.
"A demon! It's a demon!"
The one called a demon, though he had no face, smiled faintly and spoke to Cagan in a soft, gentle voice.
Eyes that pierced through Cagan's very soul smiled, and a sweet voice stirred his greed and desire.
You, for more gold.
I, for more souls.