Chapter 38
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: The Value of Information
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As I opened the warehouse door, mountains of goods came into view.
Sacks of grain. Iron ingots. Bags of salt. Bolts of cloth. Stacked all the way to the ceiling, they gleamed in the torchlight.
"Was plundering always this easy? We never knew when we were doing it on our own."
Kuluk prodded one of the grain sacks. A heavy thud echoed through the air.
"What was it like back then when you plundered?"
"If we got lucky, we'd snag a single wagon's worth. Most times, we came back empty-handed. Sometimes, comrades died."
"And now?"
"It's at least a hundred times more."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That's some exaggeration."
"But definitely more than ten times over. I guarantee it. And no casualties so far."
I started to nod, then stopped.
"No problems?"
"Pardon?"
"During the plundering. Nothing go wrong?"
Kuluk's reply came a beat late.
"...There was one thing."
"Tell me."
"One of the coachmen got away. We gave chase, but lost him."
I stared at Kuluk.
"Lost him?"
"Yes. But it won't be an issue. He only saw the Golden Bear banner anyway—no one got a look at our faces."
"No."
"...Pardon?"
"It can't be 'no issue.' Kill all witnesses."
Kuluk's eyes widened.
"Even if it means we can't plunder."
Silence fell.
Kuluk's expression hardened, his gaze weighing the gravity of my words.
"...Young master."
"What."
"That coachman. Should we track him down and handle it?"
"Too late. Touching him now would only draw suspicion."
The water was already spilled. Killing that coachman at this point would just leave evidence that someone was silencing witnesses.
"Do it from now on."
"...My apologies. It shall be done."
His voice was low, realizing that what he'd seen as a minor slip-up was anything but.
I scanned the warehouse again.
Sacks of grain. Iron ingots. Bags of salt.
All of it built on someone else's blood. So far, we'd just been lucky.
But the luck had been too good.
Heh heh heh heh...
With supplies overflowing, laughter bubbled up unbidden.
"Why has everything gone so smoothly~?"
"It's thanks to the Mueller company's recent massive layoffs."
"Layoffs~?"
Lize tilted her head.
"They fired a ton of people."
"Ah."
"And apparently, the process was pretty dirty. Lots of them got booted without proper severance."
Kuluk chuckled.
"So those bastards, burning with revenge, sold out their info?"
"Not quite revenge. Just slipped a bit of coin their way, and it all poured out."
"Even down to the guard captain drowning in gambling debts."
Kuluk hefted an iron ingot. It looked hefty, but light in his hands.
"We timed it for his duty shifts, and patrols ran an hour late every time. Disgruntled ex-employees have loose lips."
"The power of information~."
Lize nodded.
"Exactly. It's an information war."
"They didn't change routes or guards either~. Were they idiots~?"
"Never occurred to them that the axe would breed grudges."
Kuluk set the ingot down as he spoke.
"And we dodged their patrol timings like ghosts. The Mueller fools must be losing their minds."
I shrugged.
The 7th Legion commander's authority made tweaking local patrol schedules a breeze.
Raids hit, they report to the army, request more patrols—but those patrols neatly miss the raid timings.
"It's been a jackpot every single day~."
Lize unfurled the ledger.
Double-entry bookkeeping.
I'd only taught her the basics. But she'd fleshed it out.
"Sir Heinrich."
"Yes, young master."
"How are the Muellers taking it?"
Sir Heinrich lowered his head.
"No unusual movements yet. They might truly believe it was the Golden Bears."
"Evidence?"
"Banners were Golden Bear. Tactics matched Golden Bear. All witness accounts point to Golden Bear."
Kuluk beamed with satisfaction.
"The tribesfolk trained hard. Even nailed the Golden Bears' signature war cries."
"No complaints?"
"None. They harbor deep grudges against the Golden Bears."
I nodded.
"Fair enough. Their grudge runs as deep as House Mueller's."
"What's the bad blood between Mueller and the Golden Bears~?"
Lize tilted her head again.
I opened my mouth to answer.
Knock knock knock.
"Come in."
The door opened.
It was Jobe.
He looked different from usual. Breath ragged, sweat beading on his forehead. He'd clearly rushed here.
"What is it?"
"I have a report."
Jobe bowed. But he straightened quickly. Urgent news.
"The 6th Legion clashed with the Golden Bear tribe."
The room's air shifted.
Sir Heinrich's eyes narrowed. Kuluk's shoulders tensed. Lize looked to me.
"Casualty scale?"
"Details unclear yet. But both sides took losses."
"Who struck first?"
"Still verifying. However..."
Jobe trailed off.
"However?"
"The 6th Legion claims the Golden Bears struck first. Retaliation for the recent caravan raids."
Caravan raids. Our handiwork, disguised as Golden Bears.
"Send up a full report. Casualty lists, clash details, both sides' claims. I'll have to inform Father. Report any further confirmations immediately."
"...One more thing."
"What."
"Rumors say Mueller's putting out feelers. Looking for raid witnesses."
The room's air froze.
We'd let one coachman slip away.
"Understood."
The door closed.
I gazed out the window.
6th Legion. Heavily influenced by House Mueller. A clash with the Golden Bears there wouldn't end as a mere skirmish.
The seeds we'd sown had sprouted faster than expected. The problem was not knowing how far they'd grow.
They might even uncover us as the true culprits because of that witness.
We needed contingency plans for that.
Sigh... What a hassle...
Only after the footsteps fully faded did Lize speak again.
"Your earlier question~. The bad blood between Golden Bears and Muellers."
"Hundreds of years of chieftains and dukes killing each other. Records show two dukes slain—that's just on paper; reality's worse."
Lize's eyes widened.
"And it's deepened recently."
"Recently~?"
"Twenty years ago, when Mueller rebelled, the Golden Bears stabbed them in the back."
Sir Heinrich interjected.
"Hit them while forces were diverted south. Armies scattered, and they lost to mercenaries hired in the capital."
"That's why they got demoted to count~?"
"Exactly."
I propped my chin.
"Word is, they think they'd have won without the force split."
Sir Wolfram snorted.
"Hah. Won? Double the troops, and it'd just be double the slaughter. Total wipeout."
Sir Heinrich nodded.
"They kept the barony only because half their military strength survived."
Assessment from those who'd been in that mercenary band.
A few days later.
The office door opened.
A golden eagle gleamed on the entering man's chest.
Imperial crest.
The brooch caught the sunlight and flashed.
"Pleased to meet you."
Middle-aged man. Attire neat, but stiff. Lacked noble ease. Faint calluses scarred the back of his hand.
"You've had a long journey. Well done."
"Here to deliver imperial documents."
The man proffered a document case.
I took it. Opened the case and pulled out the papers.
A promissory note.
I skimmed the numbers. Read again.
My finger paused over the figure.
"...This amount correct?"
"Yes. Just compensation for 950 prisoners."
Twice my estimate. No, nearly three times.
I stared at the note.
Silence stretched.
"...Generous."
"The mercenaries you provided have shone in cleaning up the southern rebellion. I see you have more prisoners—care to hand them over too?"
"No."
I cut him off.
His eyebrow twitched. Unexpected.
But I didn't elaborate.
His 'prisoners' weren't prisoners. Red Deer tribe. People I'd willed to settle this land.
No selling them.
I folded the note, set it on the desk, and eyed the envoy.
Baron by title. But no noble blood.
His hands drew my eye. Nails manicured. But knuckles bore faded callus traces. Old scars not fully gone.
"Come to think of it, you're from a merchant background, aren't you, Baron?"
The baron's shoulders stiffened.
Brow furrowed slightly. Hand slipped behind. Defensive.
"...Yes."
Voice rigid. Thought I was belittling him.
I flashed a salesman's smile to dispel the misunderstanding.
"I'd like to invest in your company and distribute my goods through it."
"...Pardon?"
The baron's eyes widened. Unforeseen turn.
"Quite sudden."
"Sudden, but not an offer that comes every day."
"Meaning?"
His hand crept forward. Posture eased.
"The goods are solid."
"..."
The baron studied me.
Weighing how much to trust a ten-year-old's words.
"Heard your company has imperial stakes. Makes it all the more trustworthy."
A firm with imperial shares. Even if things soured, Mueller wouldn't dare raid it.
"We prioritize trust and integrity over profits."
Utter nonsense per my intel, but I wasn't fool enough to say it aloud.
"That's why it's intriguing. Investing in such a company and distributing our goods."
"...What goods?"
The baron's eyes gleamed. A merchant's gaze, not a diplomat's.
"Blue-Red Herb."
The baron's breath hitched.
"Stravb Mountains burned out, no?"
"Found another route."