The Snake That Swallows Gold Coins (4)
She had misjudged.
Inside the rattling carriage, Dieta stared out the window. The scenery blurred past in a rush. Bound for a detached villa far from the main manor, she let out a hollow laugh without meaning to.
I never thought it would be this rotten.
The reason Dieta had come this far without resistance was simple: there was nothing to gain by openly defying the ducal house, and she had trusted Osman. Of course, that trust was nothing like the faith one places in a comrade or companion whose back one can freely turn to.
It was the trust of kin.
Trust in one who shared the same eyes, who could look upon the world with the same gaze—kin and rival both. The Osman Dieta knew was a cold, calculating politician and a merchant to the bone.
A man like that would never slit the belly of the goose that laid the golden eggs. That was all she had believed. From where she stood, the judgment Osman had made now was pure folly.
A marriage proposal? High valuation of my worth? Too much to gain?
It was laughable.
She had thought he of all people would understand.
Dieta Trading Company’s growth still showed no sign of slowing; before long it would expand beyond Cambria itself and into the wider world. When that day came, both her own value and the company’s would be incomparable to what they were now.
And yet, at a time like this, they meant to swap out the company head?
Dieta Trading Company ran because of Dieta—it was a company built around her. The moment she was removed, smooth operation would be impossible. Projects would stall or freeze; noise and friction would be inevitable.
It’ll fall apart soon enough.
Even if the ducal house poured funds into it, turning a profit would take ages. In other words, a loss. The Osman she knew was not a man who would pull a stunt like this for whatever short-term gain was dangling in front of his face.
Had age finally addled him?
Had those bright yellow eyes gone blind as well?
Dieta let out a long breath.
If she had known it would come to this, she should have torn the letter up the moment it arrived and drawn a hard line. The company would have taken a heavy hit, yes—but she would have had far more cards to play than she did now.
I overestimated Osman.
With another sigh she looked out the window again.
The carriage was slowing. They were nearly there. Dieta studied her own face reflected in the glass.
A hard set to the mouth. Cool eyes.
The mask still held. She still had her reason. Emotion was churning underneath, but for now she could keep it down. So she would think with her head, not her heart. The situation had gone as bad as it could get, yet—
It isn’t as if I made no preparations.
She still had cards hidden away.
There was a way through.
Means still remained.
The only reason they could swallow an entire trading company like this was that Dieta bore the name Arvenia. Had a ducal house tried the same with some ordinary merchant house, the backlash would have been fierce.
Political condemnation. Checks from hostile factions. And under imperial law as well…
Dieta began fitting the pieces together in her mind—information on House Arvenia, hostile powers, the options still left to her, and every thread she might yet connect.
It’s all right. Not yet.
Preparing for the worst of the worst was a merchant’s virtue. Dieta drew a slow breath. From this moment she would need every scrap of her wits. She could still overturn this.
The carriage creaked to a halt and the door opened. Knights waited outside for her—knights the duke had assigned under the pretense of escort. Escort in name only; Dieta knew they were nothing more than watchers.
Her own guardian knight, Pasion, was not here. The duke had separated her from Pasion first of all.
No one she could trust. No allies. She was deep in enemy territory. Dieta stepped down from the carriage and lifted her head. Looking at the poorly maintained family villa, her mouth twitched.
Ah.
The place where her mother had hanged herself.
The scenes that flickered through her mind were memories of childhood spent in this cold, bleak villa. Suppressing the surge of feeling, Dieta walked inside.
2.
Agesio Arvenia.
As a scion of the Arvenia ducal house, he knew how to handle people. At least, Agesio himself believed he did. What was the method? Simple. Give the other party what they wanted.
Whatever they most desired.
Whatever they held most precious.
Place that on the other side of the scale, and the balance would settle itself. Agesio possessed both the power and the wealth to grant such desires. The position of firstborn son of Duke Arvenia was never a light one.
“A knighthood ceremony is well within my power to arrange.”
Thus Agesio Arvenia was certain.
“A knight is influenced to some degree by the rank of the lord he serves. A knight of a ducal house will hardly be looked down upon wherever he goes, don’t you think?”
The adventurer standing before him would never refuse this offer. Did the man not yearn for knighthood? A title of knight was no trifle, yet to Agesio, son of a duke, it was weightless.
“Of course, my proposal itself is nothing grand.”
He spoke as though bestowing a favor.
He held the upper hand here. Dangle irresistible bait, start with small demands, and gradually chain the man’s limbs—that was Agesio’s specialty.
Once the bait was taken, it was over.
Agesio continued with easy chatter. The adventurer before him possessed both renown and skill in this city. There was no harm in swallowing him up.
“Cooperate with me, maintain amicable relations while I remain in this city, and from time to time…”
But he had miscalculated one thing.
Not every soul in the world moved for a few gold coins, for power, or for a title. Even in a city overflowing with adventurers who chased gold, oddities still existed.
And Najin was the oddest of oddities.
A man who pursued honor, pride, and the stars—an endangered species all but extinct in this age. The hallmark of such rarities was that they delivered answers no one expected.
“I refuse.”
Najin cut Agesio off mid-sentence.
Interrupting a noble was a breach of etiquette. Outside Cambria it might well have been grounds for capital punishment. Yet Najin did not stop there.
He rose from his seat.
Agesio’s gaze, fixed on him, tilted upward. The scion of a ducal house found himself looking up at a mere adventurer, while the mere adventurer looked down upon a noble.
“I’ve said all I came to say. I’ll be going.”
Before Agesio could speak another word, Najin turned his head. Without the noble’s leave he showed his back and walked away. Agesio let out a short, incredulous laugh.
The knight standing beside him, however, did not smile.
Agesio’s guardian knight, Phileon, flared his eyes wide. From the start he had disliked this adventurer who held his head so high before his master. He had restrained himself several times at his master’s signal, but this crossed the line beyond question.
Under imperial law it was more than enough for the death penalty. Even in Cambria there existed a minimum of courtesy one owed a noble.
Thud!
Phileon took a heavy step forward.
The footfall of that burly frame shook the study. Agesio made no move to stop him.
“You lowborn mercenary trash with eyes only for gold…”
He strode straight toward Najin.
The moment Najin glanced back, Phileon’s hand shot out.
“Drunk on your own reputation, you’ve forgotten your place. Do you think House Arvenia is a joke?”
Phileon seized Najin by the collar.
Lifting him clear off the floor, he slammed him against the wall with a crash and glared, eyes bulging.
Unless his master intervened, Phileon intended to teach this insolent brat some manners. For beasts that lived on their own arrogance, the rod was sometimes the only medicine.
Watching, Agesio allowed himself a faint smile. That should be enough to seize the initiative. Just as he raised a hand to rein in his knight—
“Hey.”
Najin lifted a hand.
He clamped down on the wrist that held his collar.
“You hit first.”
“…What?”
A mercenary talking down to a knight.
Before Phileon could even register rage at the insolence, Najin tightened his grip. Twisting the wrist hard, he slipped free of the hold.
“You bastard!”
Phileon scowled and started to move—
By the time he realized it, Najin’s foot was already pressed against his armor. Against the plate covering his abdomen.
…When?
In that single instant a flow of power had entered Najin’s body. Instantaneous physical reinforcement. The speed with which he wrapped mana around his entire frame in a heartbeat was already beyond what an Expert-level fighter could match.
Phileon hauled up his mana belatedly, but it was far too late.
Crack!
Najin snapped his bent leg straight and drove a kick into Phileon’s gut. The burly knight’s body lifted clean off the floor. An unguarded, unexpected blow. An attack taken without mana reinforcement was fatal.
KRAAAAASH!
Phileon sailed through the air and tumbled across the floor, turning the study into a wreck. Tables and guest chairs shattered with a deafening clatter.
“Ghk—!”
Slammed into a display cabinet and wrecking it, Phileon coughed up breath. The plate armor that had taken the full force of Najin’s kick was hideously warped. He tried to push himself up, but the unexpected strike left him unable to find his balance.
Agesio’s eyes went round as he stared at the knight who had crashed down beside him. For a moment he was simply stunned.
Thud, thud-thud…
Knights who had sensed the commotion came pounding up the stairs. They flung the door open, took in the scene at a glance—Phileon crumpled on the floor, Najin standing straight—and steel rasped free.
Clang!
Swords were drawn and leveled at Najin. Amid the ring of blades, Najin merely rested a hand on the hilt at his waist, as though ready to draw at any moment.
“He attacked first.”
Najin spoke with an impassive face.
“I do not disregard the authority of House Arvenia. But this is Cambria, the City of Opportunity.”
Showing a noble the minimum of courtesy was a recommendation, not something that carried high legal weight. It was merely the Central Guild’s advice to avoid unnecessary trouble.
A low-ranked adventurer would of course bow his head and offer every courtesy before a noble.
Najin, however, was a green-rank adventurer whose promotion to red rank was already confirmed for tomorrow. A man whose identity the Central Guild itself guaranteed—someone who, depending on circumstances, could even receive the protection of those factions that respected Cambria’s laws and special status.
A red-rank adventurer was that valuable a resource.
“I was attacked, so I countered. That is all.”
Even surrounded by knights, Najin did not flinch an inch. The eyes fixed straight on Agesio asked a silent question.
Want to take this further?
I have no intention of backing down either.
An attitude of pure, unadulterated insolence. Looking at it, Agesio could only laugh. Of course he could still lean on the authority of a ducal house and punish Najin here and now.
He could crush him, force him to his knees, and take revenge.
But that would only breed backlash. If word spread that a ducal scion newly arrived in the city had used raw authority to kneel a high-ranking adventurer famous throughout the city, the one who would suffer was Agesio himself.
His standing in this city would become precarious.
And a great many extremely bothersome things would start happening.
Had the man calculated that far? If so, it was truly impressive. Still smiling, Agesio gestured to the knights. A signal to lower their blades.
“My knight’s loyalty ran a little too hot. He has given offense.”
Agesio looked Najin straight in the eye as he spoke.
“Do give my proposal some favorable thought. There is still plenty of time.”
Najin did not answer.
He shoved aside the knights blocking his path and strode out of the building. Watching him go, Agesio covered his eyes and laughed.
A genuine madman.
An adventurer who charged in without looking left or right—a wild dog that bit whatever came within reach.
“All the more desirable.”
Agesio tapped the table with a finger. A more entertaining figure than he had expected. Above all, the level of martial prowess just displayed was overwhelming even to Agesio, who walked a path far from that of a warrior.
He wanted him.
He wanted to make the man his own.
Narrowing his eyes, Agesio began considering the method. If the bait was refused, one simply used another approach.
3.
Leaving the trading company’s building, Najin let out a long breath. His mood was foul. The words that arrogant blond had tossed out so casually still scraped at him.
A knighthood? I can grant one whenever I like.
A ceremony? Easy enough if you want it.
That light, magnanimous manner of Agesio’s had thoroughly disgusted him. Only because the man was a ducal scion had Najin forced himself to listen to the end; otherwise he would have hurled a chair and walked out long before.
“Huuu…”
Heaving another sigh as he walked, Najin suddenly sensed a presence and glanced back. There stood Pasion, looking as though he had hurried after him.
Dieta’s guardian knight.
Just as Najin was about to ask where Dieta had gone and why that ill-mannered blond was sitting in her place, Pasion held something out.
“A gift from Young Master Agesio. A token of goodwill. It would be wise to accept it.”
The moment Najin frowned and prepared to refuse, Pasion spoke in a voice low enough that only he could hear.
“Nineteen hundred hours. Eastern outskirts, Block 37.”
Najin narrowed his eyes and gave Pasion a sharp look. Leaving only those words, Pasion clapped him twice on the shoulder and departed.
Time passed and the sun set. At nineteen hundred hours, Najin made his way to the appointed place. There, a robed Pasion waited for him. After confirming no eyes were watching, Pasion led him deeper into the alley.
“So.”
Najin spoke first.
“Why did you call me out alone? And what exactly has happened to Company Head Dieta?”
“There is something I must tell you regarding that.”
Pasion steadied his breathing and threw back his hood.
Night had fallen; little light reached the alley. Beneath a single flickering lantern, Pasion opened his mouth.
“Ivan.”
Speaking Najin’s alias, Pasion slowly lowered himself. He bent his knees, bowed his waist, and sank until those bent knees touched the ground.
In an alley littered with refuse.
He willingly pressed his knees to the filthy floor without regard for the muck. Even as his armor grew soiled, he knelt without hesitation.
Pasion was no light knight.
He did not kneel or bow his head to just anyone.
He knew honor. He knew pride. He regarded the protection of his master as glory, and once he offered his loyalty he never betrayed it. To repay the grace he had received from Dieta’s mother, he had taken it upon himself to become the guardian knight of her daughter.
He had failed to protect that lady.
But her child, at least, he would protect.
Honor, pride, and loyalty. Which of the three a knight held highest varied from man to man. For Pasion, the highest was loyalty. For loyalty he could cast everything else aside.
And so he knelt.
And so he bowed his head to Najin.
“Lady Dieta has fallen into a trap.”
His master still had cards hidden away.
He knew that. Yet Pasion, forcibly dispatched to the adventurer city under Agesio’s watch, could not suppress his unease. Just before leaving the ducal house he had overheard Osman speaking in low tones with a subordinate.
Osman ordering that Dieta be broken and ruined. The further orders that had followed.
Before those, even the contingency plans his master had prepared would become useless. Knowing that, he wanted to act at once—yet he could not leave the city. The house’s knights were watching him.
“She must be told. That everything is a trap.”
He spoke through gritted teeth.
“I know it is an unreasonable request, but will you hear me out?”
I will offer everything I am.
So please—listen to what I have to say.