A Most Persuasive Interrogation
The interior of the bakery had gone dark.
The knights shoved the captured man into a corner, then gathered in a circle around a single communication crystal ball.
Having received their report, Laios muttered gravely through the orb.
"...Richt."
"Yes, Commander."
"I ask purely for the sake of it, but—did you at least attempt to stop him?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
Richt answered bleakly. He knew full well that far from holding Arendt back, he had thrown himself into the scheme with considerable enthusiasm.
On the other side of the communication orb, Laios fell silent for a moment.
"Well... the situation, then... yes, I understand. This was unexpected. An unexpected windfall, truly."
The process had been rather crude, but without Arendt's methods, prying out information this quickly would have been difficult at best.
Arendt, who had been quietly listening, allowed the corner of his mouth to curl upward.
"It was magnificent. Tailing a suspect, then ambushing them somewhere with no witnesses—a true model of knighthood, I'd say."
"You're the one who ordered it, you little bastard!"
"Isn't that what they say?"
"Ha. Stop fighting and finish your report."
Arthur erupted on the spot, and Laios cut in with a hand pressed to his forehead.
Arendt merely shrugged and continued.
"We've got what we came for, so there's no harm in pulling out now. Drag the old man we just hauled in and the clerk back to the Imperial Palace, work them over a little, and who knows—they might cough up everything they know."
"In other words, this can still be contained. Though we'd be passing up the opportunity now in our hands."
Laios read the unspoken meaning beneath Arendt's words.
Arendt gave a light nod.
"Exactly. And if their memories end up suppressed by magic again, dragging them all the way to the palace will just produce the same result as before."
"..."
Laios held his silence.
He seemed to be weighing one consideration after another, his mind visibly churning. They, in turn, waited without rushing him.
After a short while, Laios's answer flowed out of the gleaming crystal ball—a firm voice that had finished its internal struggle.
"Retreating before the enemy is just as unforgivable a failing for a knight. You have my permission to act at your own discretion."
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
Richt and Arthur answered without a second's delay.
"And don't do anything reckless. I'll be looking into countermeasures on my end as well."
With a soft pop, the light faded from the crystal ball.
Arendt crossed his legs and picked the conversation back up.
"Good. Then our next task is settled."
Their gazes shifted naturally toward the man sprawled on the floor.
A chill crawled up the man's spine and he writhed against his bonds, but the knots tied with Arthur and Richt's expert hands were never coming loose.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
"Lively one, aren't you. Do we know who he is?"
"An independent mercenary based out of another city. Goes by the name Saif, from what I hear. Whether it's his real name, I can't say—but either way, he's hardly a decent sort."
The answer came from Richt.
Arthur added to it.
"Extorts money from travelers under the pretense of escorting them, and it looks like his main income comes from poaching protected beasts and selling them off. He's been tangled up in several violent incidents, too."
"Ah-ha."
"I also quietly ran a background check on a few of the traveler-types wandering around town. Their circumstances are much the same. Wandering mercenaries, runaways—there was even a hardened criminal among them."
Some of them had even visited the bakery earlier that day.
It was almost a miracle that peace held within the city at all, with men like that swaggering freely through its streets.
Arendt's eyes rolled over toward Saif, who was squirming on the floor.
"I suppose we'll need the details from that old man over there."
Arendt sprang up from his chair, shuffled over, and crouched down beside him.
The moment Arendt drew near, Saif's struggles grew fiercer.
"Uuuuumph!"
"What's that, old man? Oh my—so you're just dying to tell us everything you know, huh? Your mouth's been itching to spill it all?"
Arendt tilted his head, his expression utterly blank.
At that, the man began glaring at him with murderous eyes.
"Oh-ho? What's with that look? Ahh, I see—you're overwhelmed with gratitude that I spared a body that deserved to die? Well then, well then. You should be thankful."
"Uuuuumph!"
Muffled sounds burst from between the gag-clogged lips.
To any ordinary person, it would have sounded roughly like, 'Shut your damn mouth, you cursed little brat!' But Arendt seemed to hear something a little different.
"No need to be that moved. What good is becoming a knight if you just go around hurting people?"
"Uuu-mph!"
"Hmm? That's not it? Then what is it? Oh—don't tell me you're planning to resist?"
Saif's face twisted violently.
Meeting his gaze, Arendt continued in a slow, silken murmur.
"Aw, no, that can't be it. Surely a person isn't so thick-headed as that. Right? You just heard the report—you've got a fair idea of who we are by now."
Arendt raised his index finger and jabbed it into the man's chest, punctuating each word.
"Think it over carefully. Do you honestly believe you could win, even if you got out of those ropes and took us on right now?"
"..."
"The Imperial Knights are nothing but the very best swordsmen in this country, gathered in one place, you rotten bastard. If you'd like, I can let you experience that firsthand. Ah—come to think of it, you've already had the experience, haven't you."
"..."
"But honestly, this is getting tiresome. Keep being this uncooperative, and it might just be easier to carve you up right here and now?"
When a blood-red face, backed by moonlight, began spilling out such words without a flicker of emotion, Saif's complexion drained paler and paler.
Arendt's golden eyes gleamed with a chilling light.
"No, wait. We've gone to the trouble of catching you—might as well put you to better use. If I punch a few air holes in you, maybe you'll feel like talking. Am I wrong? Think of it as helping your future business—I'll add a few more scars for you."
"..."
"You really ought to live honestly, you know. Go around doing nothing but bad deeds, and of course you end up tangled in affairs like this, getting a far rougher time than you deserve."
In that moment, Saif saw it.
Arendt's hand brushing, ever so casually, against the sword stowed at his hip.
His blood ran cold.
Only now did it truly sink in.
This bastard is serious.
He called himself a knight, but judged by the measure of human filth, he seemed far closer to Saif's own kind.
Before he knew it, Saif had gone limp and docile, cold sweat streaming down his face.
Arendt asked him once more.
"Oh, did I misunderstand? You weren't resisting after all? You've lived your whole life like a gutter-born piece of trash, but now you've mended your ways and want to help us hunt down bad people? Is that it?"
Saif nodded his head with desperate vigor.
Arendt's eyes narrowed.
"No? You'll lay down your life and see your loyalty through to the end? Well, that's fine too. Any man who takes up a sword ought to feel that way."
"Uuuuumph!"
"Not that either? You've wanted to cooperate from the very beginning, is that it?"
Saif, who had been shaking his head like a madman, now bobbed it so hard it seemed it might fly off his shoulders.
His hair and clothes were already soaked through with sweat.
Only then did Arendt rise to his feet, clicking his tongue.
"A piece of garbage through and through. You should count yourself lucky."
Arendt drew his sword and made short work of the straps binding Saif.
The man, who had been flailing his hands at the air, hastily tore off his gag and gasped for breath.
"Haaagh!"
"Happy? Positively overjoyed, I'll bet? A man who's spent his entire life doing nothing but evil finally gets to be of use to someone."
"Yes! I'm delighted, sir!"
Saif dropped swiftly to his knees and shouted.
Frankly, at this point it was impossible to tell which of them was the worse villain.
Arendt dragged a chair over and planted himself in front of Saif.
Then he unsheathed the scabbard from his belt and slammed it down on the floor with a bang.
Saif flinched and shrank into himself, a posture ill-befitting his hulking frame.
"Then shall we start from the beginning? What exactly is this 'moonlight business'?"
"Well, you see..."
Saif shot a sidelong glance toward Arthur and Richt.
The two of them wore expressions of utter exhaustion at Arendt's antics, yet stood precisely blocking every escape route so that Saif could not run.
The memory of being kidnapped—helpless to resist those two—flashed through his mind once more.
In the end, he gave up and hung his head.
After a brief hesitation, Saif's mouth finally opened.
"...They're talking about the exchange that operates beneath this city."
"An exchange?"
"Yes, sir. Word spreads among the mercenaries... it's a place where you can obtain hard-to-find goods. The contact is the clerk. Declare your intent to participate to the clerk, and at night they let you into a secret space."
"So they were running that kind of operation under a bakery. Old man, do you know what that mark on the bakery's sign means?"
"That is..."
Saif swallowed dryly.
"It's a marker, plain and simple. Wherever that mark appears, that's where the business is held... the exchange isn't always in the same place, you see."
"The exchange is mobile?"
"Yes, sir... The person in charge changes each time, as well. I don't know the details, but this bakery was designated as the exchange around last year, I'd say."
"Where was it before that?"
"It used to be a general goods store in another city. When that place shut down, the operation moved here. Beyond that, I truly don't know anything more. I swear it."
When Arendt glared at him, Saif hastily added more.
Richt, who had been listening in silence, frowned slightly.
"So that emblem is a kind of symbol for the exchange that relocates on a regular cycle. Those who wish to trade seek it out by that mark. Is this a well-known tale among mercenaries?"
"No, sir, not especially. It's mere rumor... most people dismiss it as ghost stories or nonsense. The ones who believe it and come looking—those are the customers."
"So the ones actually running the exchange aren't this bakery's owner. It's closer to a contract arrangement, then? And that's why this city has been so unusually peaceful."
Arthur murmured as well, resting his chin on his hand.
If word of the backers behind the operation had reached even the people living in the back alleys, then the residents of any city hosting the exchange would have no choice but to keep themselves in line.
Not because those backers wielded any great visible influence.
Rather, precisely because no one could be sure who or what they were, no one dared act carelessly.
One wrong move, one clueless outburst, and there was no telling what might happen to you.
"The ones in high places must know the exchange exists. That's why they keep their underlings in check."
"Yes, most likely. I keep my own men from coming anywhere near this area as well. It would be a problem if I were barred from frequenting the exchange myself."
Saif, who had been warily eyeing the three of them, added cautiously,
"Are you... planning to raid it?"
"Why do you ask?"
Arendt's brow creased. Saif panicked and waved his hands frantically.
"N-no, sir! Nothing! It's just—as I said, there's a fairly big player moving behind the scenes. If you recklessly touch that place, it'll obviously be like poking a hornet's nest..."
"Old man, are you an idiot?"
"...Sir?"
Saif blinked blankly.
Arendt gestured with a jerk of his chin toward Arthur and Richt.
"Who in this city has the biggest backer of them all?"
"..."
"No matter how impressive these small-timers think they are."
That's right—these were thugs with the Imperial family standing behind them as their guardian.
Seeing Saif clamp his mouth firmly shut, Arendt nodded in satisfaction.
"So you finally understand."
"Arendt, do not go around calling His Majesty the Emperor and the Imperial family our 'backer.'"
Richt pointed it out calmly.
But naturally, Arendt didn't so much as pretend to hear him.
Arendt nudged the kneeling Saif with his foot.
"Old man. You're our guide."
"...Sir?"
"You're walking point. You know where the entrance to that secret exchange is, don't you? From the look of you, you're a regular."
"W-well, but..."
Saif's face went white as a sheet.
But Arendt showed no mercy.
"What? You don't know? Tch, then you're useless after all. Might as well just, right here and now—"
"I know it! I'll guide you, sir!"
Saif threw himself flat on the ground in an instant.
Watching all this, Richt and Arthur found their feelings growing rather complicated.
They couldn't quite decide whether Saif was being excessively spineless, or whether Arendt was the truly dangerous one—having subdued a hardened mercenary without landing a single punch or drawing a single blade.