House Aepheros (9)

By the time I stepped out of the carriage, keeping a careful eye on Harnie, the scenery had already transformed entirely. Apparently, while I'd been squabbling with her, we had all but arrived at the Marquisate of Aepheros.

A bleak, desolate stillness hung over everything. Layered atop it was a subtle, weighty pressure — and beneath that, even a bone-dry dryness to the air. I wasn't the only one who felt it, either. The proof was the status condition now afflicting me.

Dipeshan Syndrome. It was a status condition imposed the moment one first set foot in the Western Region — a mechanism meant to tell the city-bred Karsein that the very energy of this place was different. This was, quite literally, a land at war with demonic beasts, saturated with the demonic energy their presence left behind. That was the lore behind it.

But this game was never one to let a mere piece of world-building slide. Land corrupted by demonic energy was harmful to people — the degree varied, but harmful all the same — and anyone stricken with this syndrome would lose their strength permanently. The resultant loss of stats. That was the true penalty of Dipeshan Syndrome.

Anyone strong enough could shrug off the penalty entirely, but the only people who possessed that kind of power were those who had lived in the West from the very start. The energy radiating from this rough, barren land was more than even Karsein — a man who had once scraped by in the slums — could withstand. Even training every single day wouldn't change that by much. The longer he stayed, the more of his hard-earned stats he would bleed away.

However. Yes, this game had no conscience — but it didn't simply grind down the stats you'd painstakingly built just because you happened to wander in. Instead, it did this.

There it was — a danger rating and a warning window, laid out plain. In other words, it meant this: before that timer ran out completely, Karsein simply had to meet with the Marquis of Aepheros, finalize the trade contract, and return to Rusmayer. It looked daunting, but it was doable within the time limit.

Oh, there he is.

The Intimacy stat was sitting right there, displayed in bold. Negotiating a trade with that man — standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the distant mountains — wouldn't be all that difficult.

As I approached, Pollux sensed my presence and raised a hand to cover his mouth.

"Ahem."

A round of awkward coughing followed, and his eyes darted away from mine. Why did he seem so flustered? What was going on? I tilted my head without meaning to, and Pollux coughed again.

"Ahem. Sorry to interrupt. The two of you really do suit each other, I was just thinking— no, wait, that's not the point. I didn't mean anything by it. My apologies."

"...What on earth are you talking about?"

"Hm? Oh, is that so. Haha. Right. Fair enough, I suppose."

I had no idea what he was going on about, and when I pressed him, he looked puzzled for a moment before giving my shoulder a light pat.

"There, there. Some people are shy about that sort of thing when they're young. Hiding it isn't such a strange thing to do. I understand completely."

Understand what, exactly? If he'd just tell me what he was going on about— actually, no. Better to just ask outright.

"Pollux. I genuinely have no idea what you're saying right now. I'd appreciate it if you explained in detail."

"Wh-what?"

"I mean it — I have no clue. Doing this back at the manor too, carrying on with inside jokes — it can genuinely sour the mood for whoever's left listening, you know."

Exactly. Precisely so. When people talk only among themselves, someone always ends up feeling left out. ...Not that I'd been on the outside of every single one of those conversations back home or anything. Regardless — everyone around me had always been like that.

"Er, explain in detail...? Ahem. Hmm."

Pollux launched into a fresh barrage of awkward coughing, clearly at a loss.

"How am I supposed to bring up the matter of you two with my own mouth? Don't ask that of me."

"Us two? Come to think of it, you said that earlier as well. You mean me and Harnie?"

"No, that's— ahem. I saw nothing."

Which meant he'd naturally be referring to what happened back in the carriage. The moment I'd smacked my head hard, taken a small loss of HP, and collapsed unconscious — that's what he must mean. But if he claims he saw nothing, then clearly something else happened.

"Hey. Don't be like that — just tell me. What happened?"

Pollux broke into a sweat.

"Ahem! I know nothing of the sort. Be-besides, you have a fiancée waiting for you — how could I possibly... ahem."

"Behind me?"

I turned my head — and there stood Harnie, having appeared at some point without a sound. ...But something about her expression felt distinctly off.

With Camilla being the only person around me who would actually entertain questions like this, I'd once asked her: when someone is smiling and yet you find them terrifying, what exactly is that a signal of? Camilla had just tilted her head, utterly baffled. Right — common sense said that was a strange thing to think. How could a smiling person possibly be frightening?

And yet.

There she was. Right in front of me.

"I distinctly told you not to say a single word... and yet you went ahead and broke that promise, didn't you?"

Grab.

...Huh? She had seized my arm. The moment her fingers closed around it, a creeping sense of danger began to rise, slow and steady. Today, somehow, I was certain there would be no escape.

I tried to inch my foot backward regardless—

-CRACK!

"Hyack!"

"GYAAH!"

By then, a vivid scarlet handprint had already bloomed across my back.

While heat throbbed up from my back in a slow sizzle, Pollux — who had slipped away pretending he had business elsewhere — busied himself summoning servants, ostensibly to escort us to the Marquisate of Aepheros. The gray-tinted box above his head read -5%, the region's baseline Intimacy, and the Status Window chimed with an alert.

Not so different from before, then. To revive Rusmayer — a territory with nothing to its name but a rocky mountain called Wagloo — this trade deal had to go through. And before the Dipeshan Syndrome timer ran out.

With that in mind, I made my way toward the Marquisate, intending to propose the deal the moment we arrived. So this is what it looked like... no wonder he said what he did.

The marquisate we were escorted to was humble to the point of shabbiness. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to call it shabby.

"You're taking this rather calmly. I half expected you to ask if this was seriously a manor."

"...It's certainly not a manor. This place is the last wall standing between us and the demonic beasts."

"Heh. Not only do you avoid the reaction other nobles give, you take one look and immediately recognize it as a fortress wall?"

Pollux laughed, visibly impressed.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The choices appeared right on schedule. The first was the most cautious approach — easing gently toward the main topic. The second played ignorant while probing for his connection to the Crown. The third drove home every fact of the Marquisate's plight and pushed straight into the deal itself.

Each choice affected time efficiency, Intimacy management, and the Recognition score within the region. Ordinarily, I would have picked the first one. The Marquis of Aepheros was fundamentally a wary man. Meeting him in advance like this, his reaction was mild — in the game, he'd been far more guarded. Well, of course. A total stranger had come barreling into his territory unannounced. Worse, a noble stranger — Karsein of the Vagrand Ducal House, no less. Push a deal on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a man in that state without so much as a greeting, and his Intimacy would crater while the entire negotiation turned into an uphill slog.

Which was why the slow approach had always been necessary — carefully doling out what I already knew, rebuilding Intimacy along the way, and only then arriving at the trade. Though the end of that road was always a blade at my throat.

But none of that was necessary now. I had already made contact with Pollux; introductions were long behind us. And although I'd belatedly discovered the detail that the Yarik people were ostracized by the Empire's citizens—

—with his Intimacy already raised to this degree, the road ahead looked very likely to be an easy one.

"I already know you received materials from the Imperial Family. I also know the amount was pitifully small."

"...Go on."

Just as I'd expected, Pollux showed no trace of guardedness. I pressed on without hesitation.

"So make a trade with me. As the Lord of Rusmayer — we will supply that aggregate for you."

"Hold on. When you say you're the Lord of Rusmayer... don't tell me you intend to supply that aggregate from the Rusmayer Territory?"

"That's right. Wagloo Mountain is a mountain of stone. After the trade is struck, your Yarik people can simply load it onto wagons and haul it away themselves."

At those words, Pollux's mouth curved into a skeptical smile.

"If a mountain of stone could yield aggregate, nothing would please me more... but I know where Rusmayer lies. The journey here would take far too long, would it not?"

A fair point. It wasn't merely far — reaching the West from there made it extremely far.

"Say you load up enough for a single round of wall repairs and make the round trip. How long would that take? Counting the return leg, at least a week, minimum. And in that time, the men guarding this place would thin out far too much. It's impossible."

"You needn't worry about that."

"...What?"

I pointed at myself with my thumb, utterly confident.

"Why else would a man who ought to be buried in preparations for the Eastern Noble Conference have arrived here this quickly?"

"...!"

Right. Of course it was strange. Even with an empty carriage, it had been only days since we'd last met — and yet here I was, planted squarely on his doorstep.

"A passage has been opened through Wagloo Mountain. The residents carved it out themselves, so there's no longer any need to go around the mountain."

"You... opened a passage."

"Rusmayer was originally a village of sculptors, you see."

"Sculptors... I see. If they were craftsmen who worked not just ornaments but actual structures, then carving a passage through a mountain of stone would be within their capability."

Ninety-nine percent? At an Achievement Rate like that, the rest was as clear as day. From here, we'd draft the contract and seal the trade on both sides.

"Take it. I had the contract drawn up in advance — look it over at your leisure."

All that remained was penalty management, more or less.

"Pollux. As you well know, I'm quite busy with the Eastern Noble Conference. So I'd like the trade contract finalized by end of day. What do you think?"

"Hmm... I'll need time to consult on that. This is not my land alone, after all."

He tilted his chin toward the servants who had been showing us around. Even this manor that was all but a fortress wall had people living out their lives within it.

"Though the Empire has entrusted its administration to me, this was always the land of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Yarik people. So allow me to go and speak with them first. Will that be acceptable?"

"Take all the time you need."

I would give him as long as it took. However long that turned out to be, this deal would be wrapped up perfectly — without a single sword being drawn.

Pollux went to deliberate with the Yarik people, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠before long he reappeared before me.

"Very well. Let us make this trade."

The line accepting the deal appeared as well. And yet.

No matter how long I waited, the episode-complete window never materialized.

"But there is one condition I wish to add."

"...A condition?"

At that word, a strange disquiet blossomed in my chest. And that disquiet pointed squarely at—

"I want to cross blades with you. With real steel, not wooden practice swords."

—the very direction I had been so certain would never ignite.

"I don't believe we're the sort of people who should be at each other's throats, Pollux. Was that impression mine alone?"

Karsein asked, plainly displeased by the final condition. Pollux shook his head.

"I have no intention of making an enemy of you either."

"Then why? Why insist on settling this with real swords?"

"...That much I cannot tell you outright. I will say this — if you refuse this contest, I will withdraw from the trade as well."

At those words, Karsein dragged a palm down his face in exasperation.

"Fine. Then let's duel right away. I'm suffering from Dipeshan Syndrome, so I can't linger here long."

"Hm. That's no problem at all. There's an herb grown here that, taken in a special preparation, resolves Dipeshan Syndrome without any difficulty."

"Hey, wait—!"

Pollux swallowed an inward just as she said.

'So the head of the Flessia Merchant Guild was telling the truth.'

At first, he'd wondered what strange request that was. But it took only a brief look at Karsein's condition to understand. On the surface, he seemed perfectly fine... but who knew what lay beneath? This was precisely why Pollux wanted to spar with him — to gauge it for himself.

"Don't take it the wrong way. I simply want to face you properly, at your best. But what meaning would there be in a bout fought in poor condition? Go rest for a day, thoroughly. That's the only way the fight will be worth savoring, no?"

Pollux said this while giving Karsein's shoulder a light, easy pat. Then, brushing past him, he let out a short sigh over the lie he'd just told.

'To think I had to go so far as to threaten breaking off a deal I fully intend to seal anyway... tsk. Now I feel guilty for no reason.'

A small pang of guilt bloomed over the lie — but a measure of relief followed close behind it. After all, with this much, Harnie would surely press him hard to take that day of rest.