Alkimas Workshop (3)
I had returned to the Lord's Castle and was busily reviewing my plans for the days ahead when Head Butler Ploto delivered a report.
"Already taken care of?"
I'd only given him the assignment this morning, and he'd wrapped it up already. I scanned the few sheets of paper he handed over. It was a rough inventory of every dirty trick the Velia Merchant Group had pulled—a catalogue of their illegal activities, ranging from organization-wide offenses down to the personal misconduct of the merchant lord and his retainers.
They'd walked the line just carefully enough that nothing quite rose to the level of threatening the group's very existence. Still, this would be more than enough.
In truth, I hadn't needed an investigation at all. In Calderic, a Lord is the law. Whether Velia had broken any statutes or not, I could dissolve his entire merchant group into thin air this very instant if I so wished.
Interestingly enough, when Ploto had explained the particulars of a Lord's station to me, he'd spoken only of the constraints—not the powers themselves. The Great Charter enacted by the Grand Lord. The ironclad rule of non-interference between Lords' domains. The prohibition against independently exercising military force in foreign nations. And so on.
So long as I didn't go so far as to destroy the fundamental structure of a Lord's domain through outright tyranny, I really could do whatever I pleased.
Even so, the reason I'd bothered with this investigation was a matter of the barest minimum of conscience. I knew from playing the game that Velia was something close to a villain—but I was the only one who knew that. Crushing an entire merchant group on a whim, with no justification whatsoever, just didn't sit right with me.
"Head Butler."
"Yes, Seventh Lord."
"Bring Merchant Lord Velia and Scarlet, the master of Alkimas Workshop, to the castle. For the workshop master, observe proper courtesy. Be respectful."
"I shall carry out your orders at once."
Ploto showed not the slightest surprise or curiosity. He simply answered and departed with swift efficiency. Given the sequence of commands, he would of course have already grasped my intent.
I turned my eyes back to the map. I would finish what I was working on and wait for the two of them at my leisure. I'd told them we'd meet again soon. Looks like that "soon" was going to be right now.
The grand guest parlor of Alkimas Workshop.
In the chilly atmosphere, Merchant Lord Velia savored his tea and spoke with unbothered composure.
"As expected of a gathering of potion artisans—even the tea is excellent. I'd almost like to learn the secret recipe."
Scarlet, seated across from him, replied with an expressionless face.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the shameless flattery to a minimum, Merchant Lord."
"Shameless, you say? I'd rather you not twist a sincere compliment into something so unseemly."
"Let's get to the point. I'd hate to waste any more of a busy merchant lord's precious time."
Velia set down his teacup, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"And what would I have to say? I'll repeat the same proposal I always have, and the workshop master will refuse it, as she always does."
Scarlet answered evenly.
"You mean that tired old scheme where you use the merchant group's capital to mass-produce Alkimas's secret-formula potions—stripping the workshop of its techniques and nothing else."
"I have said this time and again: you seem far too full of negative preconceptions about our merchant group."
"And who, I wonder, gave me those preconceptions? Blocking our supply of materials, poaching the workshop's clients one by one, and—up until just a few years ago—resorting to every cheap, underhanded trick you could think of to squeeze us?"
The man with the eyepatch seated beside Velia—Vark—let out a snickering laugh.
"Watch your tongue, Workshop Master. We've been perfectly civil. It's rather unfair to pin such accusations on us without a shred of evidence."
"…Ha."
"And what do the elders think? For the sake of the workshop's future, shouldn't you loyal retainers do something about your master's stubbornness?"
An old elder standing near Scarlet snorted.
"It is precisely for the workshop's future that this proposal must never be accepted."
"Haha. Truly impossible to reason with. The merchant group will provide the workshop with every resource and every coin required for potion-making, in full. What part of that, exactly, is supposed to be a bad deal? We won't even take a cut of the profits, and we won't interfere in the workshop's operations in the slightest."
"The price is the workshop's secret formulas—and our master's. You already run a workshop in nearby Plicke City. Give it a few years and they'll have absorbed nearly all of our techniques, then start gnawing through our clients one by one under the merchant group's protection. We either wither away by degrees, or we're forced to hand over operational control and become machines that stamp out potions. Or do you have some scheme even more meticulous and vicious than that?"
At the elder's scathing words, Velia let out a hollow chuckle.
"Such united, loyal retainers. I do envy you, Workshop Master."
Scarlet's face tightened. She already knew he had tried to buy off her key retainers on more than one occasion. Not a single one had gone over.
"They are people who have devoted their entire lives to the welfare of this house, and I am proud of them. As always, it seems there will be no reconciling our positions."
"So it would seem. As always."
"Is it time for the threats, then? Now we're getting to the real business."
"Workshop Master."
Velia smiled, and it was very nearly a sneer.
"There's no need to pretend you're so composed. You know as well as I do that the situation has changed."
"…"
"The new Seventh Lord arrived in the city only yesterday. There is no longer an acting Lord. Do you truly believe His Greatness will spare even a shred of interest for a squabble this petty? And even if, by some miracle, he did—whose side do you imagine he would take? Don't tell me your family has an Elixir hidden away as an heirloom. Offer him that, and he might just take the workshop's part."
Vark cut in, smiling with oily malice.
"Or perhaps we ought to pin our hopes on something else. The workshop master is a remarkably fine-looking woman, after all. And rumor has it the Lord is a human male."
"…Watch. Your mouth."
Thein, who had been standing silent behind Scarlet until now, spat the words as if he were chewing them. The other elders' faces turned equally ugly at the open insult to their house head. Vark, as if he hadn't heard a thing, only piled it on.
"Or—just a thought—how about arranging a betrothal with my brother's son? You're well past marriageable age as it is, Workshop Master. Rather than burying yourself in alchemy in a gloomy place like this, a woman ought to know a little pleasure too. I think you'd make a fine match."
"You—!"
Scarlet raised a hand and stopped Thein just as he was about to explode.
"Don't tell me you came all this way just to sling cheap provocations like that. You've even thrown away what little pretense of dignity you had left."
Velia rose from his seat with a scornful smile.
"Today will likely be the last warning. For the sake of the workshop's future, I do hope you'll make a wise choice, Workshop Master Scarlet."
"…"
"We'll be going, then. No need to see us out."
The elders watched with dark faces as the two men walked out of the room. They had shown up unannounced, said their piece, and left—but there was not a single thing wrong with the merchant lord's threat. From here on, the situation would turn against the workshop at every turn. Starting as soon as tomorrow, there was no telling what filthy tricks the merchant group might pull. Every last one of the elders had lived through, only a few years ago, just how low and how petty the merchant group was willing to go against them. The memory still made their teeth grind.
"Hah…"
Scarlet pressed her fingers to her forehead as if her head were throbbing.
"Perhaps we should reconvene this evening, my lady."
"Yes. We should. For now, then…"
Scarlet and the elders fell into discussion of what was to come. Thein listened with a rigid expression, then quietly slipped out of the room.
"Merchant Lord."
Velia and Vark, who had been crossing the workshop's central hall toward the entrance, turned around. The one who had called them to a halt was none other than Thein.
"Was there something else?"
Thein looked from one man to the other, then fixed Vark with a hard stare and went on.
"Vark. I challenge you to a duel."
At that sudden declaration, Vark's eyes went round—then he let out a hollow laugh and pointed at himself.
"Did you just say a duel? With me?"
Velia stepped forward.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you think you're doing, coming out of nowhere like this. Thein Artima—is this the workshop master's will?"
"No. This is my own doing."
"And why, exactly, are you challenging him to a duel all of a sudden?"
"Because he insulted my sister. Surely the One-eyed Slaughterer Vark isn't going to refuse a young swordsman like me out of fear."
Vark looked at Thein the way one might look at a newborn pup—utterly contemptuous, and yet, on some level, amused. Settling minor friction through a duel was a common enough practice in this world. But that assumed opponents of roughly comparable strength. Vark was the merchant group's foremost fighter, a warrior whose fame as the One-eyed Slaughterer was known far and wide.
If I beat Vark here and make a show of force, the merchant group won't dare move so freely.
Even so, Thein believed he had a real chance—which was why he was doing this. He was an outstanding martial artist for his age, and he'd made significant progress of late, so he had a measure of confidence. In a word, it was the rashness of youth.
Vark glanced sidelong at Velia. Velia gave a booming laugh and tipped his head, as if to say it was Vark's call.
"Well, fine. If that's what you want, I'll play along for a bit."
Vark grinned and stepped forward. The central hall was more than spacious enough for two men to cross blades.
"Thein Artima. You've made something of a name for yourself in the capital of late, haven't you? I hear you even advanced to the main tournament at the last Datmad City swordsmanship contest. A young, gifted martial artist issuing a challenge is always a welcome thing."
Thein drew his sword first. Vark drew his own at a leisurely pace. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he waggled the fingers of his free hand.
"Shall I give you a handicap? I'm right-handed, but I'll swing with my left only. That ought to be plenty."
"…Do as you like!"
Thein launched himself at full power at once, intending to startle Vark into using both hands. Blue sword aura shimmered along his blade.
His vigorously swung sword was stopped with a hollow clang. Before Thein knew it, Vark had one hand tucked behind his back—and had blocked the strike anyway. Blue energy shimmered along his blade as well. A blow stopped far too easily. Thein's sword hadn't given an inch, hadn't so much as trembled, and for a moment he was taken aback. Then he pressed the attack again.
Blue lines crossed in midair. Thunderous impacts rang out in rapid succession. The exchange flashed back and forth at a speed ordinary eyes could scarcely follow. Thein's sword was fast and precise. For his age, he was unquestionably a swordsman of a high caliber. But every attack he poured his whole being into was blocked and dismantled by the idle, almost lazy stirring of Vark's blade.
"Kh…!"
As the seconds stretched on, darkness settled over Thein's face. He had never imagined the gap would be this wide.
And then, in a single instant, a spray of shattered metal. Vark's hand accelerated without warning and smashed Thein's sword to pieces.
"Ghk…!"
The shock drove Thein to his knees with a groan of pain. Vark looked down at him and grinned. That was when people came running. Scarlet and the elders had come straight down at the commotion on the floor below.
"…Thein!"
Scarlet cried out with a desperate face and rushed forward, then turned a look on Velia that could have killed.
"What is the meaning of this—!"
"Ah, ah—don't misunderstand. It was your little brother who issued the challenge, entirely of his own accord."
Thein avoided Scarlet's eyes and hung his head, his face twisted in wretched humiliation. Grasping the situation, she let out a low sound of dismay.
"…I'll apologize for my brother's discourtesy in his place. The match is clearly decided, so please stop the duel."
Vark's mouth curved into a wicked smile.
"If he was the one who picked the fight, doesn't it only make sense that I should be the one to finish it?"
The blade punched into Thein's arm as he lay on the floor.
"Gaaah…!"
Scarlet's face, and the elders', went white as paper.
"The workshop master's little brother seems unable to keep his overflowing blood in check, so this is a fine opportunity to teach him a lesson."
"W-wait—stop!"
"Tsk, tsk. I'm not going to kill him, so what's with the panic? The workshop has plenty of fine potions. Healing him shouldn't be any trouble at all."
As he spoke, Vark twisted the blade buried in Thein's arm this way and that. Thein could not endure it. A scream of raw agony tore out of him.
"Stop it! I said stop!"
Scarlet had lost all composure, her voice breaking into something close to a plea. Vark giggled, clearly enjoying himself.
"Haha! How desperate. Why don't you get on your knees and beg a little more earnestly, Workshop Master? Then I might just let it go around—"
That was when it happened.
The hall's entrance burst open, and a line of knights appeared. Every gaze in the room snapped toward them. Velia's eyes went wide. The man who had been watching the scene with a leisurely smile only moments before now muttered in bewilderment.
"…The Ironblood Knights?"
The Ironblood Knights, attached directly to the Seventh Lord's Castle. They were the castle's most elite force, and they did not move except for matters of genuine gravity. Why they had suddenly appeared here, Velia could not begin to understand. Scarlet and the elders stared at them in a daze as well. Vark slowly drew his sword from Thein's arm.
The blond man at the head of the knights swept his gaze around the hall, then strode to its center and spoke.
"Velia. Master of the Velia Merchant Group."
"…"
Then he turned his head toward Scarlet, and his tone became far more courteous.
"Am I addressing Scarlet, master of Alkimas Workshop?"
"…Yes. And?"
"I must ask that you accompany us as well. His Greatness requests your presence."
"…!"
Shock flooded every face in the hall. If a knight of the Lord's Castle referred to someone as His Greatness, there was only one person in the world that could mean. In the midst of it, Vark frowned and asked,
"Don't tell me you're taking us to the Lord's Castle? At the very least, you can tell us why you're dragging my brother—"
His words never finished. Without warning, a knight drew his sword in a flash and struck. Vark yanked his own blade up in a desperate parry—and his sword shattered to pieces.
"Ghhk…!"
Blood poured from the diagonal gash across his chest as Vark dropped to his knees. The knight looked down at him with ice-cold eyes and withdrew his blade.