Chapter 125
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 125
“I-it is an honor to be granted an audience. My name is Valer, and though I am of humble standing, I serve as the head of the Leprechaun Merchant Guild—”
“So you’re the guild master.”
Swallow cut him off.
The sharp irritation embedded in those few words was palpable. Valer didn’t dare lift his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as he replied.
“Y-yes…”
“You know, thanks to you, I had to come all this way.”
“Th-that is…”
“What kind of merchant fails to keep a contract?”
“I-I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry.”
“Rene finds this difficult to understand,” Rene added. “A contract is something your people value more than your own lives. If you failed to keep it, does that mean you were prepared to throw your lives away? That must be it, right?”
Under the barrage of questions from Swallow and Rene, Valer trembled, unable to find an answer. Only one thought raced through his mind: He’s furious. Of course he was. There was no way the Master of the Primordial Core would come all this way just to help a merchant guild. Thinking back, it had been a pathetically foolish hope.
He realized now that Swallow hadn’t spared Scobina out of mercy; he had simply used her as a guide before intending to kill them all here.
“I will… gladly accept any punishment.”
His usual cool-headedness nowhere to be found, the words slipped out of Valer’s mouth unconsciously.
Swallow, catching the stray remark, arched an eyebrow.
“Any punishment?”
“Hic!”
Valer hurriedly covered his mouth, but the words were already out.
“For real?”
* * *
The Primordial Core was known as the worst demonic realm among the Seven Great Evil Caves—and its master was the strongest of the ancient monsters.
To break a contract with such an absolute being was a crime of immense proportions. Even if the price were paid in lives, one would have to die several times over to atone.
Thus, when Swallow prepared to hand down a sentence, Valer had no doubt that he was about to experience a pain worse than death.
“Thank you.”
Valer, having been sentenced to the ‘Punishment of Standing on One’s Head for One Hour,’ murmured with sincere gratitude.
“Thank you. Lord Swallow, thank you. To forgive our guild, which failed to properly execute a single contract, with such a light penalty… I, Valer, shall never forget the heavenly grace you have bestowed upon us. Thank you…!”
“That guy… I think there’s something wrong with him.”
Swallow looked at Valer with a hint of disdain.
In truth, Swallow hadn’t intended to punish the guild too severely from the start. While the guild had certainly messed up, the ones he really wanted to crush were the Orcs, not the merchants.
Naturally, the headstand had been a joke. He’d ordered it out of idle curiosity—Can a guy that small even do a headstand?—but it seemed Valer had interpreted it in an entirely different light.
“I didn’t tell him to do it like that, but he looks incredibly happy…”
“Rene has seen creatures with various fetishes, but this is the first time she has seen someone so delighted by a headstand.”
Rene took a step back.
Scobina, who understood Valer’s relief but found his expression utterly incomprehensible, also retreated a few steps without a word.
“…Fine. That’s enough.”
Unable to watch any longer, Swallow spoke.
Moved once again by Swallow’s mercy in waiving the remainder of the sentence, Valer’s eyes sparkled with adoration.
‘He’s definitely not normal.’
Muttering to himself, Swallow changed the subject.
“Anyway, it’s certain the Orcs took my food.”
“…That is correct.”
He had heard the full story from Scobina during their journey to the Merchant District. From the sudden arrival of the Orcs and the way they strangled the guild’s operations, to their general attitude, and finally—how North, the merchant in charge of the Primordial Core, had been dragged away and killed by the Orcs while trying to protect the supplies.
“Haa.”
Swallow brushed his hair back. He tried to stay calm, but irritation flared within him.
‘I was going to let things slide.’
When Kurak had gathered the bosses of the Great Evil Caves at the Primordial Core without permission, Swallow had been annoyed, but not truly angry. He had wanted to see the newly crowned Dragon Lord anyway, and he’d been meaning to check in on Hexabel, whom he hadn’t heard from in a long while.
Kurak had simply provided an opportunity he had been procrastinating on. In that sense, he was almost grateful.
Even when Kurak declared war on the Empire, Swallow saw no reason to be angry. It was a bit of a headache, but that was it. Wars between monsters and humans were common. Getting personally invested was just a waste of energy. He had planned to just watch how things unfolded.
‘But now…’
The Orcs had taken his food.
And North had been murdered.
Touching his food was infuriating enough, but the latter was the real problem. It was a matter of restorability. Food could be taken back, but a dead man could not be brought back to life.
North had been a very capable merchant. As everyone in the Primordial Core acknowledged, he must have held a fairly high rank within the Leprechaun Merchant Guild. The fact that he could change important trade terms during contract renewals without the guild master’s immediate permission proved how much he was trusted.
Scobina, who had come to replace North, was—regrettably—not even half as satisfactory. It meant there was no one else in the guild quite like him.
“The Orcs haven’t left yet, right?”
“Yes. They have set up camp at the pass leading out of the canyon.”
“What’s the shortest route to get there?”
“…It should take about three hours one way.”
Swallow looked out the window at the sky. The sun was just shy of its zenith; it was still between morning and noon.
A six-hour round trip. Factoring in the time to deal with the Orcs…
“I’ll be back by evening. Have dinner ready.”
“Lord Swallow, if I may be so bold, the number of Orcs is by no means small… Setting such a short timeframe might be…”
Before he could finish, a cold blade pricked Valer’s neck. A small bead of blood formed and spread across Rene’s blade.
“Rene wonders if all guild masters are this meddlesome,” she remarked.
“…My apologies. We will have everything prepared by then.”
Valer immediately bowed his head.
Watching this, Swallow looked back out the window and thought.
It had taken a while to get here, so he honestly wanted to rest for at least a day. However, since the stolen goods were food, there was no guarantee the Orcs would leave it untouched. Furthermore, there was no telling when the Orc chieftain stationed in the canyon might move. Even if it was a hassle, it was better to hurry.
But this incident wouldn’t be settled just by crushing the Orcs.
“Rene.”
“Yes, Lord Swallow.”
Understanding Swallow’s intent from his tone and the atmosphere alone, Rene approached Valer.
“Guild Master of the Leprechaun Merchant Guild, I hope you aren’t under any delusions.”
“…Of course not.”
“The reason Lord Swallow came here is because he has business with the Orcs. He did not come to help the guild.”
“I am deeply ashamed.”
Valer, being quick-witted, bowed his head immediately. He had already been thinking that getting off this easily was too strange. Even if Swallow had a grudge against the Orcs, and even framing it in the best possible light, the fact remained that the Leprechaun Merchant Guild had violated its contract with the Primordial Core.
In this situation, Swallow was essentially bailing the guild out. In a relationship bound by contracts, he didn’t expect such a massive favor to be done for free.
“We will not be paying for the supplies the Primordial Core requested this time.”
“Understood.”
Valer answered without a moment’s hesitation. It was Scobina, watching from the side, whose eyes widened in shock. The reason the Leprechaun Merchant Guild traded with the Primordial Core despite the risks was because the profits were high enough to justify it. Providing all those supplies for free would be a significant loss. The fact that Valer agreed instantly meant he was prepared to pay at least that much.
“And,” Rene continued, as if mocking his resolve. “For the next five years, the Leprechaun Merchant Guild will provide goods at a price thirty percent lower than what is specified in the contract.”
“…”
In their dealings with the Primordial Core, the guild’s profit margin was barely over ten percent. A thirty percent reduction was a massive loss—it essentially meant they were being told to operate at a deficit for five years.
And yet, even facing such an impossible condition…
“…Understood,” Valer replied, his voice trembling.
There was no other choice. The Leprechaun Merchant Guild had no alternatives. Rather than being bled dry by the Orcs and disappearing from history, it was far more rational to keep the guild alive this way.
*
“These, are, supplies, granted, by, the, Vice-Chieftain, because, he, treasures, us.”
At the Orc encampment in the Merchant District, high-quality meat was distributed in abundance to every tent. Cheers erupted from the Orcs, their thunderous shouts audible hundreds of meters away. The meat granted by the Vice-Chieftain was of a premium grade that Orcs rarely even saw—and it was the very loot they had extorted from the Leprechaun Merchant Guild.
“I, never, doubted, that, the, Vice-Chieftain, would, grant, us, meat.”
The amount of food seized from the guild had been substantial. The Orcs had secretly hoped for some crumbs to fall their way. Perhaps the Vice-Chieftain wanted to meet those expectations, or perhaps he was simply pleased with the haul; either way, the portion of meat given to each Orc was quite generous.
Not long after the distribution, smoke began to rise from various points in the canyon camp. It was the smoke from campfires. It was time for a festival.
“You, come, and, eat, too. You, can, rest.”
“I, want, to, go, but, I, was, told, to, stand, guard, in, case, suspicious, ones, come.”
“The, cowards, of, the, guild, won’t, come.”
Even the Orc sentries, tasked with monitoring the movements of the monsters within the guild district, abandoned their posts one by one for the meal, unable to resist their comrades' persuasion. Any sense of tension had long since vanished. They had stood guard for days, and not even the shadow of a suspicious monster had appeared.
They were confident in their strength. They were certain they could defeat anyone who came.
The scent of meat wafted in all directions. Eventually, the Orcs even brought out hidden stashes of alcohol. On such a good day, surely Vice-Chieftain Gakundar would turn a blind eye.
Soon, a shhh, shhhh sound began to mix with the Orcs' cheers—a unique sound of the Orcs that Kurak had forbidden since they became part of Nilkumbal’s forces.
The atmosphere was reaching its peak.
As a group of Orcs sat around a dying campfire sharing tales of bravado, several figures approached. Since no one was standing guard, the Orcs only realized they had intruders when they were right behind them.
Amidst the Orcs stirring at the sight of the trespassers, the first to react was a Decurion inside a nearby tent.
“Who, are, you?”
Unlike the other Orcs who couldn’t react properly to the sudden situation, the Decurion’s response was quite calm. He leveled his morning star at the figure in the lead.
Swallow, standing at the front, let out a scoffing laugh.
“They, are, from, the, Leprechaun, Merchant, Guild.”
The Decurion couldn’t identify the man in front, so his gaze shifted behind him. A small human girl with silver hair? Her identity was also hard to gauge. However, the small fairy at the very back was definitely a Leprechaun. Therefore, they must all be associated with the guild.
At the Decurion’s movement, the other Orcs finally snapped to their senses and grabbed the weapons they had set on the ground. Some stumbled, drunk. Hostility filled everyone’s eyes.
Hostility was present in Swallow’s eyes as well.
Swallow looked down at the campfire and saw the leftover meat being grilled. His expression soured rapidly.
“You guys are eating well.”
“Reveal, your, identity, now. Or, I, will, kill, you, right, here—”
“…But why the hell are you bastards eating my food?”
In an interval too short to react, the Orc directly in front of Swallow had his head grabbed and was sent flying dozens of meters away in an instant.
*
The sound of horn trumpets signaling an enemy attack blared from all directions, easily reaching the inside of the command tent.
Inside the tent sat a massive chair. Made entirely of bone, it occupied the highest position of honor. It was the most ornate and largest seat in the room.
The Chieftain’s Throne.
Two ribs, larger than an Orc, rose high on either side of the chair, displaying its majesty.
“An enemy attack.”
The Orc sitting on the throne muttered softly.
The horn blasts were still chaotic and loud, but the Orc commander’s expression remained unchanged.
One of the six gatekeepers of Nilkumbal.
—Gakundar of the Woldur Tribe.