Chapter 24: An Eye for People
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24: An Eye for People
If you were to ask anyone to name the most prominent merchant in the Arken Empire, most would point to one man: Herman Pascal.
Herman Pascal.
He was the founder of the Pascal Trading Company, an empire he built from the ground up and named after himself. A man of boundless ambition, he had expanded his influence far beyond the borders of the Empire, stretching across the entire Serdes Continent.
He had three children—two sons and a daughter—all of whom had been hailed as geniuses since birth. However, the one who displayed the most exceptional talent for the trade was his second son, Stephan Pascal.
And right now, that very son was gripped by a single, desperate thought:
‘If things keep going like this, I’m a dead man!’
The reason was simple: the war for succession had begun in earnest.
Stephan possessed a business instinct that rivaled even his father’s. He was aggressive; if he smelled profit, he invested without hesitation, and he never looked back with regret, even if the venture failed. He had intended to prove his worth through his merits as a merchant alone.
Thus, Stephan had focused solely on honing his mercantile senses under his father’s tutelage. But when Herman finally set the stage for the succession struggle, Stephan realized his father had failed to teach him one crucial thing.
‘Charisma—the power to command people!’
Stephan lacked that decisive, magnetic authority essential for a leader.
Compared to the overwhelming presence exerted by his older brother, Murchit Pascal, and his younger sister, Tilda Pascal, Stephan was little more than an extra in the crowd. Lacking a power base, he was inevitably being pushed out of the race for the inheritance.
It was then that Murchit had approached him with a proposal.
—“I’ll be the official heir, but since you’re better at the day-to-day operations, you’ll take charge of the company’s business. I’ll only handle the company’s mercenaries. That way, we can at least prevent the disaster of everything falling into our sister’s hands. What do you say?”
Murchit Pascal had struck gold by expanding into the mercenary business under the guise of protecting trade routes. He was a man of high intelligence who also possessed formidable martial skills, having trained under former knights.
Stephan might have lacked charisma, but he was no fool.
‘He takes the private army and leaves me with the ledger? Don’t make me laugh.’
No matter how much money moved people, it was nothing in the face of raw, cold steel. Murchit was already steadily building his military strength; what would happen once he was officially named the heir?
‘The hunting dog is always destined for the pot once the rabbit is caught.’
He couldn't afford to hold hands with Murchit Pascal.
‘Then, should I team up with my sister?’
Stephan let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity of the thought. He’d rather hang himself.
‘That girl’s only strategy is to seduce men, merge their assets, and then devour them whole.’
His younger sister, Tilda Pascal, was already engaged to the heir of another major merchant house. Inheriting her mother’s legendary beauty, she used it as a weapon to weave a vast network of connections. She played the part of a pure, dim-witted girl, but she always hid a blade behind her back. She possessed a sociopathic streak that left her ready to stab anyone the moment they outlived their usefulness.
If there was one thing his siblings agreed on, it was that two suns could not exist under the same sky.
‘If I want to survive, I have to beat them both.’
But how?
Stephan had no connections. Even the directors within the Pascal Trading Company only spoke the names of Murchit and Tilda. It was as if Stephan wasn't even in the room.
“Ugh...”
Stephan groaned, collapsing onto his desk. He had mountains of work, but he couldn't focus. They said there was always a way out even if the sky came crashing down, so why wasn't there a single opening for him?
As he was wallowing in his frustration, his secretary opened the door and stepped in.
“Um, Director? Are you busy?”
Stephan quickly sat up, flashing a bright, professional smile as if nothing were wrong.
“What is it?”
“An urgent report just came in. There’s a sudden, massive demand for a specific item across the entire Empire. We need to secure stock immediately.”
“Stock? Is it the season for something specific?”
“That’s why it’s an urgent report, sir. It’s highly unusual.”
“Fair point. What is it?”
“Well... the wandering knights are all asking for monster corpses.”
“What? Monster corpses?”
It was a bizarre request, even by the standards of urgent reports. There was a common superstition that keeping such things nearby brought terrible luck, so monster carcasses were rarely kept intact unless for specific materials.
“Don’t we have quite a few of those in our warehouse?”
Stephan, of course, was a man whose common sense differed from the average person. He was the type to keep anything if he thought it might eventually turn a profit. He had judged that monster corpses could serve as trophies for eccentric nobles.
“Yes. We’ve confirmed about 150 units in stock.”
“Then just sell those. Why the rush to buy more?”
“The thing is... the current demand is several times that amount.”
“What? What are they going to do with that many?”
Usually, bringing in ten corpses was enough to earn a knight praise for a job well done. It wasn't enough for a medal, but it was enough to get noticed by a lord.
“I figured you’d be curious, so I looked into it. I found this.”
The secretary showed him a transcript of a public notice.
“Apparently, they’re appointing an official in the Far East, and they’re looking for brave knights capable of fighting monsters. They say if someone offers thirty monster corpses, they’ll be given the estate and title previously held by the recently executed Thesalos Wolcher... That’s why the wandering knights are scrambling to buy them.”
“It’s certainly a tempting offer.”
For those drifters desperate to make a name for themselves, the chance to gain land and a title was enough to make them move with frantic zeal. The location was the Far East, bordering the Land of Demons, but did that really matter to men with nothing to lose?
“Hmm...”
Stephan scratched his chin, his eyes glued to the transcript.
‘There’s no way this is just about what’s written on the paper...’
Stephan racked his brain to decipher the hidden meaning behind the notice.
‘Asking those guys to bring monsters... Is it to simultaneously gather people who have the ability to hunt them?’
Was the thirty-monster requirement a minimum threshold for screening, with something else waiting afterward?
‘That’s one interpretation, but let’s look at it differently.’
Stephan analyzed it with his merchant’s intuition. Giving away an entire estate for thirty monster corpses...
‘It’s a blatantly lopsided trade.’
While difficult, it wasn't a feat of valor worthy of an entire fiefdom. Excessive rewards usually meant one of two things: either the person who posted the notice was catastrophically stupid, or...
‘It’s bait.’
Wandering knights from all over would flock there for a chance at a title. And what would they bring? Their subordinates and monster corpses.
‘Which means the Archduchy of Valdrova needs monster corpses.’
Here, Stephan hit a wall. Why would a place where monsters were as common as dirt want to import them? It was like importing sand to the middle of a desert.
‘Are they trying to cook the books? A black market scheme? Manipulating prices through chaos?’
Among the countless possibilities, if they were publicly posting a request for a massive number of corpses, there was only one likely reason.
‘Research.’
They were conducting research that required a vast number of specimens and were using government positions as bait to bring them in.
‘Perhaps...’
There might be money in this. Real money.
He grew so excited that the light began to return to his eyes, which had been dull from the stress of the succession war.
“Are we currently trading the monster corpses?”
“Yes, sir. Wandering knights are swarming the branches, even getting into fights with each other over the stock.”
“Understood. First, tell the other branches to buy up every monster corpse they can find. We secure them as the top priority. Got it?”
“Uh... is that alright? The prices are spiking.”
“Just do as I say.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Then!”
Stephan jumped out of his seat and grabbed his coat.
“Wait, where are you going, Director?”
“I’m going on a business trip. You said there were wandering knights downstairs, right?”
“Yes, but... Director?!”
He sprinted off as if every second were precious.
* * *
“Mwahaha! You should feel honored to be accompanied by a hero such as I, Robellus.”
A wandering knight named Robellus spoke with a greasy smile. Every word and gesture reeked of narcissism. Stephan forced an uncomfortable smile.
“Ah, yes, it’s an honor. Haha...”
“As long as you are with Robellus, you shall feel as safe as if the Imperial Walls themselves were surrounding you. As for my exploits...”
As the man began his story for the hundredth time, Stephan sighed inwardly.
‘I really have a terrible eye for people.’
Of the ten wandering knights who had visited the company, he had thought this guy was the best of the lot. For the entire two-day journey to the Archduchy, the man had done nothing but brag. He would repeat himself constantly, and yet, strangely, the details would shift every time. It meant he didn't even bother to memorize his own lies.
‘This is why I hate wandering knights.’
Wandering knights! Eighty percent of the stories bards sang were about their exploits. Their adventures and achievements made hearts race and provided a catharsis that relieved the boredom of daily life. Of course, that was a fantasy held only by children.
Stephan knew their true faces all too well.
‘They call themselves wandering knights, but they’re just bandits with better branding...’
They were groups with military-grade training but no loyalty and no fixed affiliation. They were armed mobs that could turn into bandits at the slightest provocation.
‘In fact, several of them show up every week asking for sponsorship.’
There were countless shameless individuals who demanded money and identity guarantees without ever proving their skills. While sponsorship was necessary for building a network, he didn't want to stain his reputation by associating with such hoodlums.
‘And what’s the point of making connections with them anyway?’
They talked big about how they’d do anything for a title to escape their drifting lives, but the moment things got tough, they were the first to run away in their underwear. There was always a reason why they were "wandering."
Neigh!
“Whoa? What’s wrong with these beasts?”
The horses pulling the carriage began to thrash. They had caught the scent of a dragon. The horses in the Archduchy were used to the smell, but to outside horses, it was a scent as terrifying as jumping into a furnace.
Stephan gave advice to the struggling coachman.
“Put the incense muzzles we prepared on them, and they’ll settle down. There’s a pouch over there; fit it over their noses.”
“Ah, those? Understood!”
Once the masks filled with incense pouches were fitted, the horses stopped struggling and stared blankly ahead, their senses dulled. The carriage began to move again.
Stephan looked up at the sky. The Lonely Mountain, the final bastion of the Far East. And Valdrova Castle, built atop it. A fortress constructed over the lair of a dragon that could never shed its ferocious nature.
‘The Red Dragon Valdrova.’
He swallowed hard. A tyrant so merciless she would tear even an Imperial Prince apart. The Demon Dragon that sought to rule the world by absorbing all demonic energy!
‘Just what kind of fool would go through with an engagement to that dragon?’
At the same time, he wondered: What kind of person could that fool be to me?
* * *
Upon entering Valdrova Castle, Stephan looked around the inner walls. Since the notice had been aimed at wandering knights, many had already gathered.
“Hey, no cutting in line!”
“Hey, you! You’re eyeing our monsters. Touch them and you’re dead!”
“You looking at me, punk?!”
Vigorous men stood by their wagons, engaged in a battle of nerves. Looking at them, their armor sizes and styles were a mismatched mess, and their maintenance was sloppy.
‘Their subordinates look like nothing but common thugs...’
In contrast, the wandering knights themselves were incredibly flashy. Some wore brand-new equipment made by famous craftsmen just to stand out, and one had even hired a bard to read out his profile to the crowd. Another had cleverly left artificial battle scars on his gear to appear as a veteran of a hundred battles.
‘Wait, isn't that the guy who bought corpses from our company?’
Stephan remembered him buying thirty. And indeed, there were exactly thirty corpses loaded onto his wagon. They all walked down the corridor with the poised, elegant grace of noble knights.
‘Every single one of them is obsessed with appearances...’
They didn't wash, but they doused themselves in heavy perfume; the resulting mixture was nauseating.
They eventually arrived at the banquet hall. With the tables pushed aside and the center cleared, there was plenty of room for nearly fifty knights to stand at a distance from one another.
“Come to think of it,” Robellus spoke up, his voice dropping. “Have you ever seen the man who is to be the master of this castle?”
The fact that he was asking about someone else instead of talking about himself was proof that he was nervous. Stephan shook his head.
“I haven't seen him, but I heard he’s from the Rosnova family.”
“Ah! The Rosnova family! The Sword that Protects the Empire. But why was he chosen as the Archduchess’s fiancé?”
“I heard he has a weak constitution. And since he has blue eyes instead of the characteristic Rosnova eyes, it was almost certain he was the product of an affair. They say the family was looking for an excuse to kick him out... He accepted the offer, and now he’s the fiancé and the Regent of the Archduchy.”
“Ho... is that so?”
Robellus scratched his chin, his eyes glinting with unearned greed.
“Hmm, if a half-wit kicked out of his family can act like a king as a fiancé... does that mean if I play my cards right, I could take that spot for myself?”
The words of a bandit came shamelessly from the mouth of a "knight." They didn't even seem to realize they were currently standing inside the territory of that very "half-wit."
‘To think a man like this is a scion of a knightly family once called the Sword of the Arken Empire...’
He knew the knights of the Empire were rotting, but seeing a bottom deeper than the floor made him want to sigh. However, Stephan was a merchant. He was a man who knew that the blade was often closer than the law, and he knew how to use honeyed words whenever necessary.
“Haha... well, I suppose anything is possible.”
Stephan hadn't expected much from Ferda either. There were rumors that he had executed Thesalos Wolcher and brought the lords of the Far East to heel, but rumors were always exaggerated.
‘What could a man who was kicked out for being useless possibly achieve...’
Setting aside his expectations for Ferda, he waited. And when the master of the castle finally made his appearance, Stephan realized once again:
He really had a terrible eye for people.