Terms of the Deal (5)
"You mean to tell me you wrote this entire plan yourself, Young Master Roy?"
Geren asked as he read through Roy's business proposal.
"Of course."
"And I'm included in this plan as well?"
"That's right."
"So my role is to stand in for you as the witch... no, as the mage from the north. Is that what you're saying?"
"As sharp as ever, Teacher. Exactly."
He wants me to be the face of the whole operation.
"......"
Geren struggled to steady his mind against the shock. There were so many things he wanted to ask that he could not decide where to begin; his thoughts were a tangle.
"But what is this? It seems like the most important part of the whole thing."
Geren pointed to the section on weapons imbued with magic.
"You were talking about it with the mercenaries earlier, weren't you?"
"I was?"
"Yes."
"What was it again?"
Geren's mind was blank. He had already forgotten whatever he had discussed with the mercenaries. It was not that he was a fool; the sheer absurdity of the situation had simply robbed him of the ability to think straight.
"The magic daggers."
"Ah! So this is that?"
"You've heard the rumors, haven't you, Teacher Geren?"
"Well... the mercenaries kept pestering me, asking if I was the one who made them. It was getting rather awkward. You're saying those daggers are this?"
"Yes. I made them."
"So we need someone who can make them... wait, what!?"
"I said I made them."
"You, Young Master Roy?"
"Shh. Someone might hear. It's still confidential."
"...Those rumors started circulating two years ago."
"Yes. That was right around the time I started making and selling them."
"......"
The whole thing was so ridiculous that Geren could only stare at Roy with the vacant expression of a simpleton. Roy scratched his cheek with a wry smile, as if to say he was embarrassed and would appreciate it if Geren stopped staring.
"Five years old..."
"Yes. That was exactly when I first awakened to magic. Once again, thank you, Teacher."
"......"
Today Roy was treated to a whole gallery of expressions from Geren that he had never seen before.
"If we calculate based on the cheapest daggers on the market at the time, the material cost per blade was about twenty silver coins. Of course the unit cost drops with mass production. On the selling side, I've gotten as much as two gold coins per piece. The market fluctuates wildly, but even at the worst you'll clear three times the cost. Higher-grade weapons can sell for the sky, so if luck is with you, you can expect ten or even twenty times the profit."
"Gulp!"
"At first I'll be making every single one myself, so mass production might be difficult. Ah, but talk of the distant future can wait until we're properly established. Teacher Geren, this is your chance to earn money while playing the comfortable role of my proxy. What do you say? Of course the reason for all this is to protect against anyone who might come after me—and that means you yourself could end up in danger."
"...Look, about you doing all of this alone..."
"The plan itself, yes. But I had help with the rest. How else would someone who never leaves the mansion buy and sell daggers?"
"R-right, of course."
Geren decided on his own that this other person must have handled most of the work. It was the only way he could force the situation into his head at all.
"Will you join me? Honestly, now that I've revealed a secret of this magnitude, if you refuse..."
That would be awkward.
"Mm... it's a bit much to decide on the spot..."
"At least promise me you'll keep the secret."
"Of course I will."
"If you go drinking and start blabbing, my father the lord will have your head cut off."
"Come now, don't worry about that."
Roy's last remark had been harsh, yet Geren only smiled brightly, as if to say he could be trusted. Roy had been half joking; he smiled in return.
Over the past two years—beginning with the assault on the mansion—Roy had placed Geren on the short list of people he could trust. At the time of the incident Geren had been a complete outsider, less than a month into his post. Yet he had fought with the courage of a true knight, staking his life to the end, never yielding to temptation or fleeing in cowardice.
"Young Master Roy. Everything sounds fine, but..."
"Yes?"
"Would it be possible to see one of these magic-imbued weapons? If I can look at one, I think I'll be able to give you an answer right away."
Roy grinned to himself.
"I was just about to give a demonstration."
"Oh, really? What do I need to do?"
"Just follow me. If the results are convincing, I'll take it that you're ready to enter into a contract with me. Agreed?"
"Well, all right. No reason to refuse a chance to sit back and make money. You haven't even asked me to put up anything of my own. Right?"
"Oh! That's true enough."
From Geren's point of view there was no reason to refuse. He was simply lending his name and receiving money in return—no penalty clause, no demand for capital. Even if the goods turned out to be worthless and the venture failed, he stood to lose nothing at all.
For Roy, on the other hand, it meant placing a credible proxy in a position that could attract kidnapping—or worse, attempts on his life. Geren was thoroughly trustworthy, and his origins and appearance meant that even if people heard he used mysterious magic, they would either not suspect him or would suspect him far less.
Perfect for the part.
"But Young Master Roy..."
"Yes?"
"Where exactly am I supposed to follow you?"
"Where else? To Father's study."
"What!?"
Roy summoned Marek, his personal servant, as well as Geren, and knocked on the door of the Baron's study. The materials were already prepared. With the entire domain suffering under the monster problem, there was no need to wait out the full ten days.
The study still felt like thin ice after the mercenaries' whirlwind visit. Both the Baron, lord of the domain, and Ibaldo, the chief butler, wore dark expressions. They had yet to find any real breakthrough for the problems piling up across the territory.
"What is it this time?"
The Baron regarded Roy in a voice lower than usual. One wrong word and a scolding seemed ready to explode.
"The preparations I mentioned the other day are complete. I've come to show you, as we agreed."
"There's still a week left on the deadline."
"Everything is ready."
"Is that so? And who are the two behind you?"
"My assistants for today. They will also be my partners in the business I intend to discuss with you."
"Hah..."
The Baron looked utterly exhausted, as if silently blaming Roy for choosing this of all moments to appear. He simply could not bring himself to scold his son in front of Marek and Geren.
"Very well... show me."
"Before that, about Ibaldo..."
"Just proceed. He is the man I trust most."
"Forgive me, but I cannot. The only parties to this transaction are..."
"Geren and Marek are acceptable, but Ibaldo is not?"
"The two of them have contracts with me, so it is fine. Ibaldo does not."
Roy's shameless reply in the face of a clearly furious lord made Marek and Geren, standing behind him, tense sharply. Geren especially was already regretting having followed the boy today; it felt like a serious mistake.
"You will soon understand why I am being this cautious. So please have Ibaldo step out for a moment. You can tell him yourself later if you wish. I will not interfere with that."
Roy briefly considered bringing up the name of the traitor Boodle, then decided against it. There was no need to pour oil on a house already on fire.
"Leave us, Ibaldo. Roy! Listen carefully. If whatever method you show me turns out to be nothing special in my eyes, you will come to regret the way you have just spoken to me and to Ibaldo."
"Yes. I have no objection."
"Fine. And Marek and Geren—what did you call them? Partners? You have contracts?"
"Marek has been my personal servant for two years and knows a great deal of what I have planned. We entered into a contract back then. As for Teacher Geren, he has agreed to work with me on what I am about to undertake. We have not signed a formal contract yet, but once he has seen what I am about to show you, Father, he will enter into one with me."
The Baron's sharp gaze swung at once to Marek and Geren.
"That is correct."
"Young Master Roy's words are true. Though if whatever we are about to see turns out to be unimpressive, I will not be entering into any contract either."
"You will."
Roy looked up at Geren behind him and smiled brightly. Geren, caught between Roy and the Baron, could only look thoroughly uncomfortable.
"All right. Show me."
"Yes."
Roy suddenly began spreading something across the center of the study floor. It was not a business plan but a vast sheet of parchment covered in an extremely intricate magic circle.
"What is this?"
"A magic circle of my own design. Today is the first time I have ever revealed it. Security must be absolute, so I ask that everyone present erase this circle from your memories after today."
No one in the room could have memorized it from a single glance. Even with the parchment right beside them, staring at it, staring again, and trying to copy it, the circle was far beyond anything that could be retained by ordinary memory. The Baron watched with growing interest, wondering what could possibly have been important enough to drive even Ibaldo from the room. The other two felt the same.
"As promised, I will now take a look at Father's sword."
"It doesn't sound as if you mean to merely look."
"You will suffer no loss."
"Hmph. Very well."
The Baron handed Roy his sword—the Sword of Victory.
"Then I shall draw it."