Interlude: On the Continent (3)

Lansent, a city near the border of the Outer Land.

An employee at the Lansent branch of the Dieta Merchant Guild blinked at the crest laid before him. That crest… he'd seen it somewhere. It didn't take long to place exactly where.

Ah. Staff training. They'd been told, clear as day: anyone carrying a crest stamped with the guild's mark was a VIP and was to be received with the utmost care. The moment the memory clicked, the employee's eyes went round.

He squinted hard and checked the crest again. The Dieta Merchant Guild issued several kinds of crests, their value shifting with the emblem engraved on them. And the one sitting in front of him now was stamped with a golden flower.

Not a gold coin—a golden flower.

A crest permitted to one person alone.

The employee recalled the branch manager and the senior officers drumming it into them: If anyone carrying this crest walks into the guild, don't ask questions—send them straight upstairs. And with that memory came the knowledge of exactly who that person was.

An honored guest of the guildmaster herself.

Someone who could demand a private audience with her whenever he pleased—someone who could make her cancel every appointment on her calendar. More than that: he was the reason the guild had planted a branch in a frontier city like this, pressed right up against the Outer Land.

The employee sucked in a sharp breath.

He shot to his feet and looked at the man before him. The face that had been hidden by the robe finally came into view: a youth with grey hair and sunset-colored eyes. The very figure who had set the empire buzzing of late.

"I—I'll escort you at once!"

The youngest Sword Seeker.

The new star who had reached four stars younger than anyone in history.

The Dawn Star, Najin.

The guild's foremost guest of honor—the man who had contributed more than anyone to the surge in its stock. A presence that deserved several extra V's in front of VIP. For the first time in a long while, the employee bent at a full ninety degrees and offered his deepest bow.

Before long a carriage arrived for Najin—provided by the guild. When he fished out a wallet he hadn't touched in ages and made to open it, the staff waved him off in a panic.

"No, no! Please, make yourself entirely at ease! The Lansent branch of the Dieta Merchant Guild welcomes your return, Sir Najin, and for as long as you remain in Lansent we will spare no effort to ensure you lack for nothing…"

While the branch manager himself came out and bowed low, Najin climbed into the carriage. It rolled away smoothly. The ride was surprisingly comfortable.

Its destination was the imperial capital—home to the headquarters of the Dieta Merchant Guild.

Najin glanced out the window as they ran.

A blue sky, warm sunlight. Clean air and an atmosphere so peaceful it might have lulled him to sleep. After four months, the continent's mood felt strangely foreign.

Peaceful. Normally by now you'd expect a corpse or two lying around…

—Common sense says the continent shouldn't have things like that, right?

The capital was a long way off, so they stopped in small towns along the route for food and rest. Over a well-seared steak, Najin found himself smiling at the memory of the "giants' special meat" he'd eaten in the Outer Land.

That stuff had actually tasted pretty good.

Roughly a week later, Najin reached the imperial capital. As a guest of honor of the Dieta Merchant Guild, he entered without any particular checks.

The capital of the empire: Camelot.

However dazzling it always looked, neither the glittering artifacts nor the architecture held his gaze. Najin simply lifted his head and looked toward the imperial palace.

The palace, ringed by the five towers that stood as pillars of the empire. His eyes settled on the foremost of them.

The First Pillar of the Empire—Gerd's residence.

The moment he looked that way, he felt a gaze in return. Just as he was watching the tower, the old man who lived there was watching him. He was certain of it.

Come to think of it, they say the capital is basically that old man's front yard, don't they?

The moment you set foot in the capital, you were already within Gerd's range. He'd heard the rumor. Taking it as fact, Najin kept his eyes on the empire's first pillar and moved his lips.

Crowds, noise, and buildings stood between them, yet Najin and Gerd spoke across it all.

For a brief instant, the seven stars hanging above the first pillar of the empire glittered. Najin gave notice that he would visit before long; Gerd granted the visit. Najin inclined his head slightly, then stepped down from the carriage.

They had already arrived at their destination.

A street where the headquarters of the continent's foremost merchant guilds stood shoulder to shoulder. Flags bearing each guild's emblem hung from the buildings. Najin looked around, then tilted his head.

Wasn't the Dieta Merchant Guild's building around here?

When he'd visited with her, it had been in this neighborhood—but the building he was looking at now didn't fly the Dieta crest. They must have moved.

"This way, Sir Najin."

While he was still searching, an employee in the guild's uniform came out to guide him in person. How far they walked, he couldn't say. Najin blinked.

"This is the guild headquarters?"

"Yes. This is the place."

The heart of the street, where the most splendid buildings rose.

Right in the central district where the headquarters of the Rocktide Guild and the Cornellhild Guild—the two largest merchant houses on the continent, forever trading first and second place—stood tall, the Dieta Merchant Guild's building had planted itself between those two towering structures.

A flag flying high from the upper stories.

Not some shabby outpost, but a proper building that held its own against the great merchant houses of the continent. Looking up at it, Najin let out an unguarded laugh.

Apparently, while he'd been grinding through four months in the Outer Land, the guildmaster hadn't exactly been sitting idle either.

Dieta, the snake that swallows gold coins.

To countless merchants she was an object of envy—the woman who had built a success myth in Cambria, the City of Opportunity. Raising a guild that could represent an entire city from bare ground in a mere five years was an achievement of that scale.

But the merchants of the great trading houses used to point at the Dieta Merchant Guild and say, In the end, isn't it a guild that only works in Cambria? They were quick to mark the limits of its growth. To be called a true great trading house, you had to cast your influence across the whole continent, not a single city.

A frog in a well.

A guild that only ranked high in Cambria.

They looked down on the Dieta Merchant Guild and laughed that it would never grow any further. It did not take long for that laughter to turn into shock.

The subjugation of the Red Dragon and the White Dragon.

The moment she monopolized those materials and began to move on the strength of that monopoly, the current shifted. In no time she had secured a foothold in the imperial capital and signed a contract with the Platinum Tower—one of the true giants.

Those who watched it happen muttered, Just luck,a one-season business,easy come, easy go, but those voices didn't last either.

With almost excessive speed and aggression, the Dieta Merchant Guild swelled. What put real fire under that expansion was nothing other than a remark from the Lord of the Platinum Tower.

"You know the guildmaster of the Dieta Merchant Guild? She's so earnest and bright. Not like the kids these days, you know? Quick, polite, sharp-eyed. I muttered to myself, 'It'd be nice if we had this and that…'—and next day, there it was! I never even asked her to send it! How could I not be fond of her?"

The Eternal Brilliance Horn, Cypria Gachevska.

The heart of imperial logistics who oversaw the bulk of the empire's artifacts, and one of the pillars that held the empire up. At first the master of the Platinum Tower had treated the contract with the Dieta Merchant Guild as nothing special—but over time her stance changed.

She had originally sent her secretary to seal the deal with Dieta; before long she was summoning Dieta to her own magic tower. A great archmage who was herself a pillar of the empire was granting private audiences to the master of a single merchant guild.

And every time Dieta visited the tower, Cypria's manner shifted a little more.

"The girl's so quick. She speaks so prettily, you know?"

From cool indifference to a smile.

"Dieta sent a gift again? Again? What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is it this time? Wait—this is a Romarien of the year 134? How did she even know I like these… What? She sent a letter too? Hold on a moment. Where's my quill?"

From "that girl" to "Guildmaster Dieta." Cypria even answered Dieta's letters in her own hand.

"Guildmaster! Come in, I've been waiting!"

At some point Cypria began coming out to the front of the tower to greet Dieta whenever she visited. Watching Cypria climb to the top floor arm in arm with Dieta, laughing and chattering the whole way, the mages of the tower could only stare.

It was the first time they had seen that prickly tower lord smile so brightly.

"The guild I used to contract with… which one was it? Rocktide? How long is left on the contract? Six months? Hmm. Sixty years is a long time. Maybe it's time for a change."

When she let drop something that sounded less than eager about renewing with Rocktide—the house that had held an exclusive contract with the Platinum Tower for nearly sixty years—the Rocktide Guild found its feet on fire.

The master of Rocktide himself packed gifts and called at the Platinum Tower, but Cypria only sent him away with a look of mild boredom.

At that point, people started to wonder in earnest.

Just how had she wrapped Cypria Gachevska around her finger? What method could possibly work on that notoriously difficult archmage? Merchants could only click their tongues at the silver tongue that had, in less than four months, thoroughly charmed a transcendent.

Four months since the Dieta Merchant Guild set foot in the imperial capital.

Now trading houses large and small had gathered under her banner, and on the strength of the guilds she had absorbed she had begun stretching distribution networks across the continent.

Four months. A mere four months.

At that absurd pace, merchants joked that the heavens ought to bestow a star upon her.

Dieta, the snake that swallows gold coins.

Just as the name of the Dawn Star, Najin, rose countless times on the lips of adventurers, knights, and mercenaries, the name "Dieta" never left the mouths of merchants.

A young guildmaster with eyes the color of gold coins.

Her standing rose without end.

Of course, Najin had no way of knowing any of that.

"Hah—!"

The headquarters staff who recognized him sucked in a breath and ushered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Najin straight to the top floor. Others might bring every bribe under the sun just to secure a few words with Dieta—but Najin had no need.

The moment he showed the crest, the path to the top floor opened clean before him.

And so he arrived at the reception room on the highest floor. Dieta was already waiting. Seated demurely on the sofa, she brushed a strand of hair from her temple, took a sip of coffee, and lifted her head.

A flinch.

The instant their eyes met, Dieta's shoulder gave a short tremor.

She had known of his visit for about a week and had been waiting in the reception room in full battle readiness. Yet at the sight of a face she hadn't seen in so long, she faltered for a moment.

A face she truly hadn't seen in ages. Perhaps that was why the rush of gladness and excitement came first. The Dieta of the past might have flushed and tangled her tongue right here.

But she was different now.

Ahem. Ahem.

She cleared her throat and turned a radiant smile on Najin.

"It's been a while, Najin. Have you been well?"

Even to her own eyes it was a perfect smile—the kind that melted the hearts of any number of men and made them fall for her, a smile that put her beauty to its fullest use. The fruit of four months spent refining her expression work.

More natural. More beautiful. More elegant.

All this time Dieta had polished every expression, every gesture, every tiny motion of her body. She had mastered the art of speech that won a person's favor. It was time to show that growth to this man.

When you meet after so long, gladness comes first, right? This time I'll make it a little more definite…

Countless plans took shape in her head. The corners of her mouth twitched as she pictured a rosy future. Distance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had kept their relationship from advancing; this time she would close that gap for good. She was just about to pour more force into her performance when—

"I can't exactly say I've been well—but I did spend a rather valuable stretch of time. Yes. It's been a while, Dieta."

Najin smiled.

A smile that looked genuinely glad to see her.

A smile that held real feeling.

That was enough. Enough to wipe clean the elaborate future she had been spinning. Struck by a perfectly timed ambush, Dieta's eyes wavered.

The performance shattered. The tongue she had oiled to pour out pleasant words without pause creaked like a rusty hinge. Her breathing broke; she swallowed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrong and began to hiccup.

"Hic."

Covering her mouth with her palm, Dieta whipped her head aside. The silver-tongued operator who had charmed the Lord of the Platinum Tower, the legendary businesswoman who had planted herself perfectly in the imperial capital in a mere four months, the master of a great trading house that shook the continent—none of them were here.

In front of Najin, Dieta was only a girl.

And one who had laid her every weakness bare.