The Gold-Swallowing Snake (3)
The Arvenia Ducal Estate.
A vast garden, a glittering mansion, and servants so numerous the eye could not take them all in at once. It was grandeur worthy of a ducal house’s renown. Dieta stepped down from the carriage and let out a long breath as she stood before the main house she was returning to after five years.
The main house.
The place where she had been born and spent her childhood.
Having come home, she felt not the slightest shred of the comfort or coziness one ought to feel. For Dieta, this mansion held no particular memories. At best there were those with her mother, but…
She had long since forgotten them.
When she had looked upon her mother’s corpse hanging by the neck before her eyes, every memory had turned into a nightmare. Dieta had simply cast aside every recollection that brought gloom when it rose.
“Haa…”
She exhaled at length and stepped inside. Unlike her siblings, who dragged throngs of retainers in their wake, the only one accompanying Dieta was her guardian knight, Pasion.
Under the servants’ gazes, she walked on.
“Allow me to escort you, Lady Dieta.”
Following the servant’s guidance, Dieta walked on.
It was nothing like the old days, when she had lowered her head and walked as if already dead, dressed in some elaborate gown. Now she wore the uniform of a merchant leader as she moved through the corridors of the mansion.
Not as Dieta Arvenia.
As if she had come as the merchant leader, Dieta.
There was no need to bow her head. The place she reached was the reception room. When she stepped through the door the servant opened, waiting for her within was the master of the Arvenia Ducal House.
Osman Arvenia.
Dieta’s own father, and the head who led the Arvenia Ducal House. His eyes held the same bright yellow as hers. After their gazes met for a moment, Osman Arvenia smiled warmly.
“It’s been a long time, Dieta.”
At Osman’s smile Dieta clicked her tongue inwardly. Acting from the very first beat. There was no need to show her true feelings, though. She answered with a smile of her own and sat in the chair prepared for her.
“It’s been a long time, Father.”
“Yes. Five years since you left the family, isn’t it? When you vanished after leaving only a letter saying you meant to see a wider world, how I worried…”
After a brief pause Osman continued.
“Still, you were with a trustworthy knight, and word that you were living well reached me from Cambria, so this father of yours could finally set his mind at ease.”
The picture of a father fretting over a daughter who had left home.
His tone was natural, his expression all too natural. Dieta knew perfectly well it was nothing more than a mask.
She remembered Osman looking down with cold eyes upon her mother’s corpse, already cold and stiff, then clicking his tongue and ordering, “Dispose of it.”
And she had never forgotten the eyes that had measured her worth as he looked at the girl standing beside that corpse. Dieta nodded, still smiling.
“Yes. I have done my utmost to live without staining the name of Arvenia. That the news reached even you is an honor.”
“To rise from the bottom and seize the seat of a merchant leader who holds a city in a mere five years—I am truly proud of you.”
Osman smiled.
“The Dieta Merchant Group. I’ve heard a great deal about the company that bears your name. The world may spread nasty rumors that you are Arvenia’s abandoned child… but how could I ever abandon you? You are the only thing she left behind.”
Lies. Lies traded for lies, false smiles traded for false smiles. They spoke while each wore a mask. When the conversation had ripened enough—
“The reason I called you today is none other than to commend your achievements.”
Osman Arvenia brought forth the real matter.
Dieta watched him. She sharpened every nerve, determined to catch the meaning in each of his words.
“I was more than a little surprised by the merchant group you built with your own hands after leaving home—not by the family’s power, but solely by yours. That is something worthy of praise.”
This much she had expected.
Dieta inclined her head. Why had he summoned her back to the family? On the carriage ride she had turned the question over and reached several conclusions.
The merchant group was firmly on track; even the head of the Arvenia Ducal House would see it as a solid achievement.
Dieta had proven her own worth. And Osman Arvenia measured the worth of people. In his eyes she was a value too precious to leave discarded, a talent who could create still greater value if reclaimed.
So…
He would want to forge a link between the merchant group and the Arvenia Ducal House. Was he trying, at this late hour, to correct the rumor of the abandoned child and take her back as family? Of course she did not entertain so hopeful a reading.
Bait.
If it was Osman, he would create the connection, gradually seize control, and in the end swallow the merchant group whole. Even knowing that, Dieta had come.
The reason was simple.
She was confident. A scheme of that level she could twist around and turn into a stepping-stone to raise her company higher still. She had steeled herself and walked in.
“Unlike your older siblings, you have achieved something remarkable. Quite a feat at so young an age. At any rate…”
However—
“Do you know what your older brother has been doing of late? Taking after me, his mind turns well enough that he has secured a fairly high post, yet experience and results refuse to keep pace. Talent without the achievements to win recognition—pitiful, isn’t it?”
This she had not expected.
Why was her brother’s name suddenly on the table? A sense of wrongness prickled. Dieta lifted her head. Osman Arvenia was looking down at her.
Those bright yellow eyes were utterly cold.
“Dieta Arvenia.”
Osman spoke her name.
“You are my child. A member of Arvenia.”
“…”
“You are not an abandoned child. You are a member of Arvenia. And family ought to help one another. They say nothing runs thicker than blood, do they not?”
Dieta understood.
She saw Osman’s intent clear as day. A hollow laugh slipped past her lips. Osman Arvenia was telling her:
Hand the merchant group over to your older brother.
To write one or two lines on the résumé of a brother who needs results… offer up the company you built with five years of your life. That was what he was saying.
“Your Grace is mistaken.”
Dieta spoke.
Not Father. Duke.
“The merchant group runs under my management. It will not simply continue to function smoothly because someone else sits in the leader’s chair. Above all…”
She let a thin smile show.
“In Your Grace’s eyes, is my worth only that much? I reached this place in five years. When another five years pass, are you not even curious how far I will climb?”
You are misjudging my value.
It will not stop at so little.
As Osman himself had said, Dieta possessed results. Because she possessed them, she could answer him. This was a wrong judgment. It was the act of cutting open the belly of the goose that laid golden eggs.
Better to forge a link with the merchant group.
Isn’t slow, steady seizure your usual method?
Isn’t it a loss for you to carve me open merely to swallow one company?
“You’ve grown a great deal, Dieta.”
To all of that, Osman merely smiled. The mask remained unbroken.
“A great many marriage proposals have arrived for you. Prestigious houses desire you. No doubt they place a high price on the worth you proved by building a merchant group in Cambria.”
He did not answer the question. He simply told the stories he wished to tell. And, as was always the case with those who spoke with Osman…
“They value you very highly indeed. There is a great deal they are prepared to offer for a marriage talk with you.”
Listening, Dieta finally grasped the whole of his design. Osman Arvenia measured value. He neither looked down on her nor dismissed her.
He had simply measured her.
The worth she held, and its peak.
The merchant group she had built was already on a solid track. Her age was suitable for marriage; her looks had fully ripened into bloom. Both the company and Dieta herself stood at their highest value right now.
Sell when the price is highest.
That was the iron rule and common sense of merchants.
Osman Arvenia was a noble and, at the same time, a merchant. He was a man who believed politics was ultimately nothing more than commerce conducted under the banner of justification.
“Do you remember the annex where you lived with your mother? Wait there. Guests will arrive, and I shall call for you separately.”
The annex that stood at the far edge of the territory, distant from the main house. The place to which her mother—face burned, value lost—had been banished. Dieta knew full well what that annex was called.
Arvenia’s birdcage.
A prison for those who had lost their worth—either to cast them out or to lock them away so they could never flee. Dieta’s expression twisted as she read the intent.
2.
The second day’s examination also finished without incident.
Leaving behind the proctor who had stamped the passing mark with a look of pure disbelief, Najin walked toward the lodging. Midway along the road he shifted his gaze. A splendid carriage was rolling through a parted crowd.
Rather loud, isn’t it.
—Looks like a noble’s procession?
Najin narrowed his eyes and studied the crest engraved on the carriage. A serpent-like design. He had seen it somewhere before.
—Arvenia?
You know that crest?
—Yeah. Even in my era there was a fellow who rode into battle waving a banner with that mark.
Letting the remark wash past him, Najin stroked his chin. Arvenia, Arvenia… as he turned the name over, a short breath of recognition escaped him. He remembered.
Arvenia’s abandoned child.
When that “minor” quarrel with a noble had broken out, the man had called Dieta exactly that. So the family she belonged to had sent people? Thinking as much, Najin watched the direction the carriage took.
It was heading toward the merchant group.
When the carriage finally halted, its passengers alighted: four knights in polished armor, and under their escort a man in splendid uniform. Unlike Dieta, he had bright golden hair.
The man walked toward the merchant building with his knights. Four knights followed. And close behind them came one more knight in shabby armor—a familiar figure.
Dieta’s guardian knight, Pasion.
Clank.
He glanced back for an instant.
The moment his eyes met Najin’s, Pasion’s gaze wavered. Only for a moment. Gritting his teeth, he followed the man into the building.
…The day the merchant group’s name changed from “Dieta” to “Arvenia,” and the day a letter arrived for Najin from the Arvenia Merchant Group, was the day after that.
3.
An invitation from the Arvenia Merchant Group.
Holding it, Najin headed for the company. The building itself looked little different, yet knights now stood guard on the stairs leading to the office. When he showed the invitation they cleared the way.
Up the stairs to the top floor.
On the uppermost level, servants bustled about as they never had before. Najin had no need to knock; a servant who recognized him rapped on the door in his place and opened it for him.
Inside the office.
The brown-haired girl who always sat there and greeted him warmly was gone. In her place sat a golden-haired young man, with two knights standing at his side. One of them was Pasion, once Dieta’s guardian.
“Oh, a distinguished guest has arrived.”
The young man in the seat of honor smiled.
As Najin simply stared at him, the knight beside the youth widened his eyes.
“Show proper courtesy to Young Master Agesio. Bow your head in greeting and state your name.”
The knight looked ready to launch himself at any second.
At the barked command Najin frowned. His open distaste met the knight’s glare; the man’s hand was already rising toward the sword at his waist when—
“Hahaha!”
The young man burst out laughing.
“Yes—exactly the spirit one expects from an adventurer making a name in Cambria. Sir Phileon? No need to be so rigid. This is the City of Opportunity, Cambria, is it not? When one comes to a city of adventurers, one ought to follow their rules.”
He spoke with a smile.
“I am Agesio Arvenia. Firstborn of the Arvenia Ducal House.”
“Green-rank adventurer, Ivan.”
“Yes. I’ve heard a little about you. Word has it you maintained a rather good relationship with the former merchant leader… my sister.”
Agesio flicked a finger as he continued.
“Sit for now. If I have to keep looking up at you for a few more seconds, Sir Phileon may well crush your knees and force you to kneel.”
The knight at Agesio’s side.
A glance confirmed he looked ready to charge. Najin let out a short breath and sat in the chair placed before him.
“Well, the reason I summoned you is nothing so grand. Having taken the merchant leader’s seat, I’ve been reviewing the ledgers and putting my hands to various matters… and your name appears with some frequency.”
A talent in whom the company had invested.
The sections concerning Najin had been written by Dieta herself—armor of blood-troll hide, a long list of supplies already scheduled for support.
Her evaluation of him read: “A talent worth aiming at White Horn rank.”
Agesio did not take every word as gospel, yet the notes were worth consulting. Rumors of the adventurer before him had already reached his ears even beyond Cambria.
“The central figure of the Demon Knight subjugation—I’ve heard a little of the talk. When even the Atanga Order speaks your name, ignorance would be stranger still.”
Agesio crossed his arms and smiled.
“As you can see, I have taken the merchant leader’s seat, yet I have no intention of remaining here long. It is only a temporary post I pass through. That does not mean I mean to do a half-hearted job.”
He looked straight at Najin.
“Will you not make a deal with me?”
“A deal, you say?”
“Yes. I will stay in this city a few months at most… yet in those months I intend to gather talent. I need investments for the future, and I need achievements.”
He extended a hand toward Najin.
“You are not a talent meant to linger in a city like this, are you? The Arvenia Ducal House will stand as your backing. And above all, you seem to admire knights…”
Agesio Arvenia smiled.
“Knight appointment is no difficult matter. Should you accept the deal, arranging a knighthood ceremony would be the simplest of things.”