The Last Claimant
“Welcome. Are you here to buy or to sell?”
In front of several large green tents stood a smaller open-sided tent serving as a passageway, manned by an armed soldier and a rather sleazy-looking, stocky man.
“I’d like to sell these horses and the goods they’re carrying.”
“I see.”
The man smiled while quickly scanning me and the horses.
“How many are you planning to sell?”
“All of them except this one.”
A flicker of suspicion crossed the man’s eyes, but he soon stepped forward and began inspecting the animals. After carefully checking their hooves and mouths, he turned his attention to the saddles and the packs strapped to them.
“Oh?”
With evident interest, he examined the saddles from various angles before opening one of the bags.
“These are quite fine items. No crests or markings either. You certainly know how to acquire quality goods.”
There was an edge to his words. He clearly suspected me of being a thief or something similar. Not that it mattered—few people would recognize me anyway. Even soldiers who had fought alongside me for two days against the Death Army during the Great War failed to remember my face when we met later without Rowell present.
…How could I complain? A firefly beside the sun was never meant to draw anyone’s gaze.
“Well, that’s true.”
I didn’t bother offering more of a reply. As long as he paid a fair price, his opinion of me was irrelevant. That, however, proved to be a mistake.
“As you may know, the Amusbian Merchants’ Guild always cross-checks items of uncertain origin against the Central Registry’s theft and loss reports before purchase. If anything goes wrong, it could damage the guild’s reputation and lead to serious complications.”
I hadn’t known that, but it made sense. With so many people gathered here, theft and lost items were bound to be common. A major trading company buying stolen goods outright would invite both scandal and trouble.
“…Is that acceptable?”
The man asked carefully. His tone and gaze carried a veiled warning: back out now if you have something to hide.
“It’s fine. Will it take long?”
“Even after checking the records, we must allow time for additional reports, so you’ll generally need to wait about three hours in the afternoon.”
I was mildly impressed. I hadn’t expected a profit-driven merchant guild to go to such lengths to prevent dealing in stolen goods.
“Well then, please come with me.”
“Do I have to go as well?”
“If similar items appear in the records, we need to conduct a face-to-face verification. Don’t worry. Once the initial comparison is done, you’re free to do as you please while you wait.”
Since I had come this far, leaving immediately had never been an option anyway. Waiting a few hours was no great inconvenience.
“Understood. Let’s go.”
And it didn’t take long to realize this choice had been a fatal mistake.
“H-here?”
An uneasy feeling had crept over me midway, and the man had led me straight to the very pink tents I had been trying to avoid.
“Yes. The Cruze Trading Company is in charge of management this year.”
The Cruze Trading Company. While its influence on land trade was relatively modest, it dominated maritime commerce with a fleet of over twenty ships, earning it the nickname the Cruze Armada.
Moreover, it wasn’t just a name. The company possessed enough military strength to repel the infamous pirate Red One-Legged Ron, the most notorious raider in the Parerin Archipelago.
“I-is that so.”
None of that mattered to me. All I wanted was to turn around right now.
“…Where are the records kept?”
Forcing my body to stay upright despite the urge to flee, I steadied my mind. Turning back now would be idiotic. Besides, there was no guarantee she would be here.
“The records office is over there.”
The larger pink tents appeared to be storage areas, guarded by soldiers. Expensive luxuries and artworks were likely inside, but the most valuable items wouldn’t be kept there. Merchants never let their most important goods out of their sight.
In contrast, the smaller tents nearby seemed to serve as lodgings or offices for employees and merchants, with people constantly coming and going. Every time a flap opened, I found myself holding my breath and rising onto my toes—an embarrassing reaction that left me feeling oddly melancholic.
“Here we are.”
Following the man into one of the smaller tents, I saw four or five people seated at desks piled high with ledgers.
“Time to work.”
At the man’s gesture, they rose mechanically, glanced over the horses and packs I had brought, then sat back down and began flipping through pages at a frantic pace.
“It won’t take more than a few minutes. However, if a matching record appears, we’ll need to summon the claimant for verification.”
There would probably be some. These weren’t ordinary goods—horses complete with saddles. While a dozen at once was unlikely, losing one or two to theft was common enough.
Sure enough, three of the clerks raised their hands. Yet their voices remained flat despite the swift action.
“Three matches.”
“One match.”
“Two matches.”
“Good. Contact them.”
Following the order, the clerks called for messengers outside, copied the relevant records, and handed them over. The messengers dashed off with the papers. They had likely coordinated schedules with the claimants in advance, but I doubted they would return anytime soon. One thing was certain: it wouldn’t be “shortly.”
“Do you have a chair?”
I asked, trying to sound calm. The man fetched one, and I forced my restless legs to sit. From that moment on, I could only wait in this place—one of my nightmares—testing my peculiar luck.
Strictly speaking, I was quite fortunate. I had survived the Great War and become the hero’s closest friend. Yet no matter how much I tried to reassure myself, every passing second only heightened my anxiety.
After a long stretch of time, during which several claimants arrived, expressed disappointment, and left, I was beginning to feel a cautious gratitude toward my luck when the final claimant finally appeared.
“Senfinel!”
Short hair, a rugged face, and a black shirt that exposed his thick upper body and arm muscles. The man looked like the sort who would pick a fight in a tavern corner just because someone made eye contact. The moment he entered, he shouted and rushed toward the horses.
“Senfinel! Jiajo! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you two?”
The burly man grabbed the reins of the visibly startled—terrified, even—horses and acted as though they were old friends.
Damn it. Of all people, the last one had to be this type. As expected, when I glanced sideways, even the man who had guided me here was frowning.
I had vaguely suspected such people existed when I first heard about the theft reporting system, but I never imagined I would run into one like this at the very end.
“Yes, that’s right! These are the ones I lost!”
He was claiming ownership of goods that had never been stolen. If successful, he would profit without lifting a finger. If not, he could simply claim it was a mistake. It was a decent enough scheme—provided one didn’t get caught.
Of course, it was a one-time trick with limited scale, nothing more than petty thievery.
“Are you certain these are the items you lost?”
“Yes! Look at this scar! These are Senfinel and Jiajo! I lost them on the way here yesterday.”
If he knew their previous owners had become food for Ma-chung, he wouldn’t dare make such a claim.
“Don’t play games. These horses were transferred to me by the Alto Knight Order.”
Well, not voluntarily.
“Transferred? How does one get that many horses transferred? You must have stolen them!”
The large man’s eyes showed not a trace of hesitation or tension. If anything, seeing my face seemed to put him at ease.
…I understood. Even so, given what I was wearing, a normal person would at least feel some nervousness.
“Now, now, both of you, please calm down.”
The guild staff intervened, though they looked equally troubled. They had surely dealt with this sort of person many times before. They must have seen through the crude trick long ago, yet they couldn’t simply dismiss it outright. Not when my own identity wasn’t clearly established either.
The staff member glanced at the records, then offered the burly man a faint smile.
“Mr. Krugle… is it? According to the report you filed, you mentioned only a white horse and a light-red horse, without specifying breed, age, or size. How can you be so certain these are yours?”
“Because they’re the horses I’ve raised all this time! Senfinel and Jienjo are ones I……”
“You said Jiajo just a moment ago, didn’t you?”
Getting the name wrong after only a few seconds. Even for a scam, he should have prepared at least the names in advance. Had he really just made them up on the spot?
“Jiajo! Right, Jiajo!”
Too late.
“I’m sorry, but we have no evidence to confirm these horses belong to you, Mr. Krugle.”
“Wait! Then you’re saying it’s believable that this man brought all these horses here alone? That he received them from a knight order?”
“All the other claimants have already come and gone. We found no reason to doubt their ownership.”
He had never been a particularly skilled con artist to begin with. If he had any sense, he would have known this was the moment to retreat. Instead—
“Nonsense! These are my things, and I’m saying they’re mine! Bring me your superior!”
He raised his voice and began causing a scene.
“……”
I had no words.
For the record, I swear on the heavens that I have never stolen anything or committed fraud for financial gain in my life.
Even so, it was obvious to me that he had been doing everything wrong from the start.
This kind of scam wasn’t meant to be pulled right in front of the real owner. The proper method was to quietly and quickly intercept the lost items before the rightful owner arrived, then abandon the attempt without hesitation the moment it seemed risky. After all, more lost items would come in. That way, there would always be another chance. Causing a scene and exposing one’s face like this was the worst possible approach.
If he truly needed these goods enough to argue ownership, he should have been far more thorough and meticulous—or at least not so blatantly obstinate.
If he was going to act this way, it would have been simpler to just rob someone outright or steal the horses directly.
The fact that he didn’t even understand these basic principles made it clear he had never truly thought through the scheme at all.
“……”
The guild staff also stared at the man with exasperated, pitying eyes. Part of me wanted to drag him into a dark corner and have my summons deal with him, but there was no need. A massive trading company like this didn’t employ only merchants.
The staff exchanged glances, and someone ran off. They were likely fetching guards or someone specialized in handling this sort of trouble.
Soon, footsteps approached from a distance. See? Just as I’d thought, they hadn’t taken long. The tent flap opened, and the messenger who had run out earlier returned—followed by……
“Oh my! Anak?”