Guildmaster Dieta (1)
He had business to settle while he was back on the Continent.
His duties as a postman were finished, but his work as a Free Knight was not. Najin had obtained information on Quixote, the Star of Contempt, and he needed to share it with Gerd.
The tomb of stars. La Mancha.
Najin found himself thinking of Quixote, the Star of Contempt.
Apostle of the Revelry Emperor. Court jester.
A constellation who had once held seven stars, and who now held only six after losing one in their last battle.
About that constellation, the Star of Contempt, Quixote—exactly how strong is he?
—I can’t say for certain without having seen his Authority, but if we’re ranking the constellations you’ve met so far…
Merlin wiggled her fingers as if running some private calculation, then nodded.
—He’d be second.
…Second?
—Yeah. The Lighthouse Keeper would be around third, and the Revelry Emperor is obviously in a league of her own. That puts the Star of Contempt at second.
Najin felt a flicker of doubt as he thought back over the transcendent beings he had faced. Quixote was a seven-star constellation—six now. Anton, whom he had met only recently, held eight stars.
—I’ve told you over and over: the number of stars doesn’t always mean strength. There are plenty of exceptions. Constellations like the Star of Contempt are especially tricky.
Tricky how?
—Because he’s completely insane.
Merlin tapped her temple with a finger.
—It sounds ridiculous, but in this line of work, the crazier a transcendent is, the better off they are. Self-righteous lunatics who only care about themselves and live locked inside their own worlds have a structural advantage.
Why?
—Because they never have to deny themselves. The maniacs who don’t walk on the ground of the world at all—who decide that the entire world revolves around them—never get shaken.
A self-confidence so absolute that “unshakable” was too mild a word for it. A self that had sunk roots into the world itself.
—Those ones are a pain to deal with. Transcendents define the world by their own rules, and if you slip for even a second, you get swallowed whole.
By their stage, Merlin added.
Najin thought he understood what that stage meant.
The laughter that would suddenly fill the air. The windmills. The ridiculous props and jesters.
The stage the Revelry Emperor and Quixote had unfurled.
Even when dozens of constellations crashed into the battlefield, their stage had held. In the face of the wills of dozens—hundreds—of stars, the jesters never stopped playing, and the laughter never ceased.
—It’s a contest of momentum, basically.
Merlin flicked her fingers.
—When transcendents fight, if you lose the momentum, winning gets very hard. So Quixote, with that crushing presence of his, ranks among the top of them.
Then what happens if you smash that stage of his?
—He drops a long way down. From that point, the side with more stars has the advantage.
Quixote was a constellation who leaned on his stage.
The Revelry Emperor was probably the same.
Listening to Merlin’s muttered assessment, Najin sank into thought for a moment. He thought he finally understood why the Revelry Emperor and Quixote wanted so badly to keep that place called La Mancha hidden.
Ah—then who’s first?
—The Helmet Knight.
Merlin answered without the slightest hesitation.
—Not the weakened version who had lost every star when you crossed paths with him. At his peak, he’s first.
The Imperial First Horn, Alderan Basaglia.
Even stripped of every star and reduced to a shadow of himself, he had been terrifyingly strong. Merlin placed that knight at the top of the list.
—Honestly, it was startling. Even in my era, someone that strong was rare. He would have held his own just fine at Camlann.
That strong?
—Mm. Strong enough to have sat at the Round Table.
Najin absently touched his pauldron.
A shoulder piece modeled after a golden horned helm.
He smoothed the Free Knight’s coat he would one day have to present before his master, and let out a long breath.
“……”
Watching the scenery rush past, Najin pulled a newspaper from the side of the carriage. He was curious what had happened on the Continent in the months he had spent in the Outer Land.
Rustle.
The front page of the paper he unfolded carried a familiar name. He began reading with a warm sense of recognition—then let out a dry laugh before he could stop himself.
—What? What is it? What’s it say?
Nothing major.
Najin pointed at the paper.
She’s just been chasing me pretty hard, that’s all.
Before Roselyn Ascalo, there had been someone else who told Najin they would climb to the high places together. The girl who stood among the towering pillars of the imperial capital, who pointed at the stars in the sky and laughed.
Roktid Trading Company, proud of centuries of history, collapses overnight; Guildmaster Shagel Roktid sells the company…
Roktid Trading Company’s bankruptcy sends markets reeling.
Crisis for minor guilds under contract with the company; amid economic turmoil… (abridged)… Dieta Trading Company purchases all rights of the Roktid Trading Company, including management and interests, and acquires the guild.
First she would occupy this street of merchants.
Then she would take every banner of the great trading companies hanging at the highest points and make them her own—that was what the girl had said.
Roktid Trading Company acquired and merged into Dieta Trading Company.
He almost thought he could hear her voice in his ear.
I told you, didn’t I?
If you hang a star high in that sky, then I will climb as high as anyone can climb on this earth.
“Honestly.”
The image of a girl smiling as she rolled a gold coin across her palm rose in his mind, and Najin found himself smiling too.
2.
Roktid and Cornellhild.
In this world, among the trading companies, those two were known as the “giants.” They boasted centuries of history and had held the summit of the market for just as long—colossal institutions of commerce.
A single footfall from a giant could shake the market economy. A single gesture from hands that held the strings of gold could line minor guilds up for bankruptcy and even bring famous noble houses to ruin.
Gold was power.
Aside from the Pillars who stood above the sky itself, the guildmasters of Roktid and Cornellhild were powers that even nobles did not trifle with lightly.
“……”
But here stood one merchant.
The merchant looked at the giant.
At that enormous frame. When countless trading companies had given up even looking up at that history, she alone had fixed her gaze on the giant’s crown. She saw where the giant set its feet, and where its eyes were turned.
To her, a giant was not an invincible being.
Quite the opposite.
The larger the body, the more enormous the volume of food and water required to maintain it. That was the law of the world. And for a trading company, food and water resolved into a single thing.
Gold. In other words—money.
The snake that swallowed gold coins began, slowly, to coil around the giant’s feet. The first target was the Platinum Tower, which held an exclusive contract with the Roktid Trading Company. Using dragon goods as bait, the snake approached the tower’s lord, won her over, and made the Platinum Tower its ally.
Lord of the Platinum Tower. A Pillar of the Empire.
The Eternal Brilliance Horn, Cypria Gachevska.
She became the snake’s ally. The snake asked for nothing extravagant. Only a small request, and a small show of sincerity.
Platinum Tower enters exclusive contract with Dieta Trading Company.
First contract change in sixty years.
That alone cost the Roktid Trading Company its greatest gold line. The complacency of assuming a fish once caught would stay forever; the carelessness of believing that because it had been so for decades, tomorrow would be no different—those cracks the snake tore into with relentless teeth.
One by one, yet so swiftly that response became nearly impossible.
The snake unleashed every move it had prepared in a single stroke.
It sank its teeth into the giant’s ankle, poisoned the lake from which the giant drank, set fire to its granaries, and softened the ground beneath its feet until the giant lost its balance and fell.
A fallen giant finds it terribly hard to rise again. Given enough time it might manage, but she who knew that fact would never grant it time.
The sprawling ventures and debts the giants had extended in reliance on their bulk began to throttle their own throats. Once things reached that point, the rest was simple.
One last, hard bite—
to the nape of the giant’s neck, and it was over.
“……”
Across from her desk sat the guildmaster of the Roktid Trading Company, wearing the face of a man chewing insects. The snake that swallowed gold coins smiled. Even after signing the contract, the old man still could not bring himself to leave his seat.
It was the face of someone who refused to admit that his entire life, and centuries of his house, had collapsed in a single stroke.
It was a face unsuited to a merchant. A merchant was supposed to accept losses for the sake of even a little more profit, and to keep their true feelings hidden until the very end.
“I have another appointment after this.”
Dieta smiled.
“Would you mind vacating the seat, Guildmaster?”
The guildmaster ground his teeth with a harsh scrape and shoved himself upright. The old man’s hand trembled on his cane; his expression said he wanted to spit one more line, but Dieta had already turned her gaze away.
Her eyes were on the clock on the wall, not on the old man. A true merchant, a seasoned negotiator, spoke with their gaze as much as with their words.
Shagel Roktid, guildmaster of the Roktid Trading Company, was a merchant himself. He knew exactly what the girl’s glance meant. Looking at the clock said, I have no more time to spare for you—as good as an order to get out.
The old man’s face crumpled a little further.
But the moment Dieta took her eyes from the clock and looked at him, the old man found he could say nothing at all.
“……”
Silent yellow eyes watching him.
Eyes the color of gold coins.
The moment he met those pupils the world called by such flamboyant names as Golden Coin Eyes or Golden Serpent Eyes, the old man could not help but be cowed.
Beastlike eyes that gleamed with a yellow light.
Crushed by the presence those eyes projected, the guildmaster of the Roktid Trading Company left the office without managing a single word.
Click. Tap.
Only when the footsteps and the tap of the cane had faded far into the distance did Dieta quietly approach the office door and put her ear to it. Then she glanced at the guardian knight standing beside her.
“He’s gone?”
“It seems so, my lady.”
“Good. Then—”
Dieta let out a long breath.
“Why does he take so long? Just sign and leave already! What does glaring even change? I used way too much time—what do I do?”
She stamped her feet in a rapid little dance.
The Roktid guildmaster had read her glance at the clock and her mention of another appointment as a calculated insult—as I have no more time for you—but…
“I’m short on time…!”
It was nothing of the sort.
She really did have a next appointment. She really was short on time. The anxious look had simply been the wish that he would hurry up and get out.
“I have to start getting ready right now. We’re busy, Pasion. First a bath, then clothes—right! Clothes. I set aside an outfit for today. Contact my secretary and have them bring it at once… Ah, and premium black tea too. What else? Sweets? Uh, and…”
Dieta began rattling words out in a rapid stream.
“I will see to it. So please calm yourself a little—”
“I’m counting on you, Pasion!”
With that shout she grabbed her things and bolted for her estate.
Who on earth could make her this frantic?
Even the Platinum Tower’s lord, a Pillar of the Empire, could not push her into this kind of haste. As a merchant she was always composed, always perfect. But as a woman rather than a merchant… that was a different story.
“Hurry, hurry…!”
Dieta broke into a quick, almost running stride.
…There was only one person in the world who could reduce the infamous snake that swallowed gold coins into nothing more than the girl named Dieta.
The appointment set for two hours from now was with Najin.
To prepare for a meeting with the man who had returned from the Outer Land after months away, Dieta all but sprinted down the corridors of the trading company. The sight of their always-aloof, elegant, leisurely guildmaster running left the employees tilting their heads in confusion—as a bonus.
