The Value of Gold (2)
A contract.
A promise struck for mutual gain, built upon trust and faith between the parties. The cornerstone of any contract is unshakable trust directed toward the other.
In that sense, the demon standing before Cagan was the worst possible partner imaginable.
Trust? What was there to believe in a demon that was not even human?
If that thing so much as snorted, Cagan’s soft heart would wither and burn to ash on the spot.
Demons were plunderers. They did not enter into equal contracts with the likes of men.
“Huuu— huff! Get the hell away, get away from me, you demon! Get out—!”
Cagan’s thick jowls quivered as spit flew from his lips. The demon’s low, deep voice cut cleanly through the blizzard, vivid and clear.
Oh, Cagan, Cagan, Cagan. Don’t be so frightened. We can be good friends. I know you very well, after all.
Sssssss—
Something like black ink slid across the white snow. It rippled strangely, shifting its form without cease—one moment resembling a lizard, the next a seething flame.
“H-h-huff!”
The demon drifted right up to Cagan’s nose.
I can see your desires. Oh yes, I see them clearly. I see what you love so passionately, what you yearn for.
“W-what nonsense is this, you demon! Back off!”
Cagan fumbled frantically inside his coat and drew a sharp dagger. He leveled the pitifully trembling blade at the demon.
It was the image of an ant baring its teeth at a lion. Cagan knew it. The demon knew it too.
Now, now, Cagan. Let’s talk calmly. I am perfectly willing to converse with you and form a contract.
“What—what are you saying?!”
My dear little friend who covets glittering lumps of stone. Don’t you want more gold? Don’t you want to live with mountains of gold piled high? Don’t you want to melt gold and paint everything your eyes can see, to raise a vast palace of glittering gold?
“…What?”
The demon’s low voice slipped past Cagan’s ear and resonated deep, deep inside him. It hummed through his skull and shook him to the core. Everything the demon spoke of appeared before his eyes with crystalline clarity.
A golden palace soaring as if to touch the heavens. A garden filled with gleaming pure-gold statues. Waterfalls of gold coins cascading between his fingers!
“Oh… ohhh—”
What do you desire? Five hundred thrones of gold? Three hundred hot springs of melted pure gold? Or gold coins flowing like a waterfall?
I can give you all of it—
In exchange.
You need only do something very light. Then everything will be yours.
“Huuu…”
Thrones of pure gold. A royal palace built of gold. All of it shimmered just within reach of his outstretched hand.
Still lacking faith? Then perhaps this advance payment will convince you. I think this should be enough to establish trust between us. What do you say?
The demon conjured a massive lump of gold from thin air and swayed it left and right. Cagan’s pupils swung after the glittering mass like a pendulum.
Gulp—his throat bobbed. Saliva flooded his mouth. The terms were mouth-wateringly tempting… yet—
“If I make a contract with a demon, divine punishment will burn my flesh and tear my soul to shreds! I’ll burn forever in hell!”
Cagan shrieked as if in a fit. A slave trader who sold beastkin, yet terrified of divine retribution. The demon’s smile deepened.
Ah, I understand your concern. They say dozens of thunderbolts fell from the sky and struck those who contracted with demons, yes? A dreadful business. Quite so. But—
Just suppose.
What if ■ cannot bring divine punishment down upon you? What if those detestable eyes cannot see you? What then?
“What do you mean…”
If He could see everything on earth and was truly omniscient beneath the heavens, He would have struck me down with those fine lightning bolts first, wouldn’t He?
“….”
Cagan, Cagan. My worried, timid little friend. You need not fear. The very fact that I walk the earth in person is proof of your safety, is it not? All you need do is take the gold and live out a comfortable life.
Gulp—
The demon created several more gold nuggets and swayed them enticingly before Cagan.
A brief silence stretched. Cagan agonized and wavered dozens, hundreds of times, yet the lure of the gold the demon offered was simply too powerful.
At last, after long hesitation, he opened his mouth.
“…What do you want?”
The demon flicked an invisible tongue and whispered. It was something precious and invaluable, yet invisible to the eye.
Some even doubted its existence, never realizing its true worth. The demon desired only one thing.
Bring me a sacrifice.
Offer your soul to me.
And you shall receive gold.
Clang—! Clang-clang-clang!
Sharp metallic notes rang out. Rough shouts and short death cries rose from every direction; the metallic stench of blood stabbed into the nose.
It was the all-too-familiar scent of the battlefield.
To One-Eye, deputy commander under Friga and a man who had lived his entire life in the North, this place was more intimate than any other. And yet—
“You damn mongrels! Crawl over here in moderation, will you?!”
“Kyaaang!”
Even so, the werewolves’ rabid assaults day and night these past few days had gone far beyond the pale.
With a stream of rough curses, One-Eye severed one werewolf’s neck and exhaled a harsh breath as he scanned the surroundings.
He had only one eye, and precisely because of that he watched and observed all the more carefully. That was how he had survived nearly his whole life.
Shit. This isn’t good.
“Hyaaah! Die, you mongrel bastard!”
“Let us sleep already, you sons of bitches!”
What he saw were northern men fighting with the usual barrage of rough curses—and the endless tide of rabid dogs pouring in.
Here and there a few warriors staggered dangerously. Dark shadows hung heavy beneath their eyes.
Even northern men could not endlessly march onto the battlefield without sleep for days on end without paying a heavy price.
Grit.
Damn it. Should we fall back?
A moment’s hesitation—time enough for life and death to tip on the battlefield.
“Guaaaah—!”
“Keuh…!”
A dull scream tore through the air.
A werewolf’s long claws punched through the belly of an unnamed warrior. The beast hoisted him onto its shoulder and bolted away at full speed.
Farther off, another werewolf was already carrying a second warrior.
“That bastard!”
Awooooo—!
A howl announcing the end of the hunt echoed through the mountains. At the alpha’s signal to withdraw, the entire pack of werewolves spun as one and fled. The fierce fighting of moments before vanished as if it had never been; they ran for their lives.
“Fuck, after them! The bastards are running again!”
Several of the werewolves still had men slung over their shoulders. Some of the captives still twitched faintly, not yet finished. If they gave chase right now, they might still save them.
“Hold!!”
One-Eye stopped them cold.
“Deputy! But how many of our boys have already been taken?!”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it. Do you think those bastards snatching people is ordinary? How many times have we chased them blindly and gotten wiped out—do you even remember?”
“That’s—!!”
“Get your head straight! Have you ever seen those bastards take people without killing them first? And it’s already happened several times! This is no ordinary business.”
“Th-this fucking—!”
One subordinate ground his teeth in frustration and spat a rough curse. Having to watch a comrade carried off right before his eyes—his face flushed crimson as if it might burst.
He was not alone. Some chewed their lips in rage; others stamped their feet as if ready to charge out that very second.
Yet they all knew.
Everyone who had gone out to rescue those taken by the werewolves had died. No matter how many, no matter how old or young—every last one of them had died.
They had been swallowed by the freezing snow and never sent back a single word.
“So we’re just supposed to take it lying down? You’re saying we leave those rabid mongrels alone?!”
“…I’ll settle this today. Just wait a little longer.”
One-Eye’s single remaining eye glinted white as he muttered low.
Until now he had merely filed reports, but today it seemed he would have to force a decision with the Duke himself.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Furious knocking thundered against the door—hard enough to make the great panels rattle.
The rightful ruler of northern Montegros, Duke Lucian Nix, set down his fountain pen and calmly regarded the door. Inwardly he counted the seconds.
One… two… three…
Now.
“Your Grace—!!”
Sure enough, One-Eye shoved the door open with force and bellowed for Duke Lucian.
“You’ll deafen me, man. Don’t raise your voice—sit here. Have some tea.”
Having anticipated this long ago, Duke Lucian calmly offered a seat and sipped his tea. It was a fine leaf his daughter Friga had sent from time to time since departing for the Holy City; the aroma was excellent.
Slurp—
The subtle fragrance filling his mouth was first-rate. Duke Lucian felt quietly proud of how well he had raised his daughter.
Friga takes after her mother—thoughtful to the core.
She even knew how to send gifts to her father. Whoever she took after, she had grown up splendidly.
Of course, tea of any kind never entered One-Eye’s field of vision.
“Your Grace, this is already the umpteenth time! The werewolves keep kidnapping people over and over. We need measures!”
“I know, man. Do you think I wouldn’t know that?”
“Then form a subjugation force at once and—”
“One-Eye.”
The Duke’s low voice blanketed the office. In an instant his presence flooded the room. One-Eye, whose voice had risen without his noticing, immediately dropped to one knee.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Slurp.
Duke Lucian took another sip of tea and continued.
“One-Eye, do you think I don’t understand how you feel? I know it well. But the situation right now is not ordinary.”
Attacks by demonic beasts were nothing new. Werewolves occasionally came down from the mountains as well.
Yet for the werewolves that lived on the mid-slopes of the Mount of Demonic Beasts to descend every single day and abduct people—this was unprecedented.
On top of that, slave traders had been running rampant, snatching beastkin and humans alike, and public sentiment was growing restless. Like locusts that had been waiting for the chance, they stirred chaos wherever they went.
This was no ordinary affair.
The instincts of a man who had long guarded the North whispered to Lucian: this was the omen of an incident that would exceed even Montegros’s full strength.
“An official dispatch that just arrived. Read it.”
“This is…”
The Duke held out a single document. At the end of the elegant script, the seals of Emperor Caesar and the Pantheon stood out clearly.
“Forces from the Holy City and the Empire will soon arrive here.”
One-Eye’s single eye widened; he scanned the document rapidly.
“I smell it, One-Eye. I smell it.”
Duke Lucian opened the window and drew in a deep breath of air.
The frigid northern air filled his lungs, then left with his exhale. Along the distant mountain range the setting sun stretched long shadows.
Perhaps it was only his imagination, but for an instant something seemed to writhe within the shadows of the snowy peaks.
“I smell that damned thing.”
Duke Lucian muttered as if chewing the words.