The Merchant of Black Roses
“I’m a pilgrim of the Order.”
“We are servants of the Goddess Belche as well. And if we’d cared so much about the Order’s opinion, we wouldn’t be working as mercenaries in the first place. You don’t need to think about it so hard. It’s simply a matter of changing your affiliation from the Mercenary Guild to our merchant caravan.”
Had she not understood his polite refusal?
Lawrence looked at Agnes.
Then he had to squint.
The fan painted with blooming roses hid her face.
He had no way of reading her expression, no way of knowing what she was thinking.
“It isn’t quite that simple.”
Mercenaries were free agents.
Whether to take a request was entirely up to them.
If they wanted to do it, they did; if they didn’t, they didn’t.
But once a mercenary belonged to a caravan rather than a guild, the story changed.
A caravan was a body of merchants who moved only in pursuit of profit.
Because money came first, clashes between the people who handled that money and the people around them were bound to happen far more often.
And that meant the kind of entanglements of gratitude and resentment Lawrence had always been careful to avoid.
“I can guarantee you’ll gain far more than you lose. You’ve heard rumors about our caravan, haven’t you, Shadow Mage?”
“A caravan that’s grown out of Albrade Port and spread its influence across the entire kingdom. I know the name of the Black Rose in full bloom. But I’m not a merchant.”
“You’re more cautious than I expected. Very well. I’ll give you a little more time.”
Agnes’s voice was calm, almost relaxed.
Under the fan, a smile was surely lingering still.
“If there are terms you want, I’m willing to meet you as far as I can. I’ll say this with confidence: you’ll be hard-pressed to find better terms anywhere else than the ones we’re offering.”
She had no intention of giving up on the recruitment offer.
That, at least, wasn’t a bad thing.
The fact that she refused to let the conversation die meant she valued Lawrence highly enough to keep pressing.
To borrow Killian’s phrasing, she had decided he could make money.
But like this, Lawrence would never seize the lead in the conversation.
If only he could at least read her expression…
“So? Are you tempted?”
That fan was irritating.
Beyond the black rose, he could make out the graceful curve of her brows.
Almost without thinking, Lawrence’s gaze drifted elsewhere.
He was trying to find any information that might help him.
It was a fatal mistake.
“……”
Lawrence found himself caught by Agnes’s appearance.
Long black hair that fell all the way to her waist.
Softly braided locks spilled down over both shoulders.
Her exotic clothing left the curves of her body fully on display.
A single blossom blooming atop a cliff.
Yet she was not merely a beautiful flower.
There was something decadent about her, something dangerously seductive, as though she carried a lethal poison within.
Only after he realized it did he know where to look and where not to.
Up to now, he had seen countless women, but very few who were as striking, as complete a work of art, as Agnes.
If he had to compare, only nobles like Angela or Francois came to mind.
But those two, usually dressed in nun’s habits, had never felt quite so provocative.
Then he remembered what Angela had once said.
“Have you ever seen a knight heading to the battlefield without a sword? A lady’s appearance is her weapon. You have to hone it, or you’ll never catch the gentleman you want before the other ladies do.”
He remembered.
Appearance was a lady’s weapon.
A beauty always knew she was a beauty better than anyone else.
Agnes’s clothing and jewelry might all be a kind of weapon meant to magnify that fact.
And once he saw it that way, everything about her felt calculated.
She struck a seductive pose when there was no reason to.
She deliberately arranged herself as though she were a picture meant to be admired.
She did not merely know her looks were a weapon.
Agnes had made that weapon bloom into a beautiful flower.
It felt as if someone had doused his head with cold water.
The Black Rose.
At last, he understood why the caravan bore that name.
The Black Rose was, quite literally, a name for the woman in front of him.
He had been pricked without realizing it.
By the thorns of the black rose she had bloomed.
“If you want to avoid being played by a woman, first you have to understand women.”
Somewhere, Cedric’s laughter seemed to drift through his mind.
Lawrence recovered his composure.
It was fine.
The wound from the thorn was shallow.
Now that he knew better, there was no reason to be bewitched any longer.
“Have you made up your mind?”
Lawrence met her eyes.
Red eyes visible beyond the black-rimmed glasses.
Those half-hidden eyes did not move at all.
A chill ran down his spine.
He was sure of it.
This was a truly terrifying woman.
From something as small as a gesture to the tilt of her body, everything had been arranged exactly as she intended.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to refuse.”
For a moment, disappointment flickered in Agnes’s eyes.
But only for a moment. Soon, she had recovered her customary ease.
“If that answer comes after careful consideration, I’ll respect it. Still, I’d like you to remember that the gate to recruitment is always open for you, Shadow Mage. Now then, shall we call it a day?”
“I have one proposal of my own.”
Now it was Lawrence’s turn.
He couldn’t let Agnes have the entire conversation to herself.
“A proposal? Hm. You rejected mine, but want me to hear yours? Shadow Mage, you’re greedier than I thought.”
Amusement laced her voice.
“Very well. A merchant listens first, even to a sinner who has crawled out of hell. Let’s hear your proposal.”
He couldn’t be fooled by the lightness in her tone.
Her eyes were calm.
“I’d like to go deeper into the mine. I want you to provide supplies for Killian’s search party and for me.”
“Deeper into the mine. Do you know what that place is like, and you still say that?”
“What it’s like isn’t the issue. I have to go, so I’m going.”
“……”
Agnes pressed the fan against her mouth.
He heard a faint crunching sound, as if something were being chewed.
She wasn’t eating a cookie.
He couldn’t see the hand that would have been resting on the table.
Apparently, she was biting her fingernails behind the fan.
“A difference in purpose. So there’s some reason you must go. I understand. I don’t need to know what that reason is. Then shall we move on to the most important matter: money?”
As though waiting for exactly that, an employee placed an abacus on the table.
“There’s not much to propose. A merchant speaks through the money put before him. If the Shadow Mage pays the price, I’ll prepare whatever supplies you need.”
Her bone-white fingers flicked the abacus rapidly.
With a brisk sound, the beads came to a stop.
“Supplies for one search-party squad. Labor costs to keep the relay stations stocked properly along the route. Transportation for the journey. Let’s see. Since you’re connected to our caravan, I’ll give you a special discount.”
Finishing her calculation, Agnes pushed the abacus toward Lawrence.
“All told, it comes to about one hundred gold. What do you think? It’s a reasonable price.”
It was a sum he had never heard in his life.
From the moment Bhan mentioned money, Lawrence had expected the cost to be steep, but even so, this was beyond anything he had imagined.
“This is all I can pay.”
Lawrence set his coin pouch on the table.
Agnes nudged it away with the back of her hand. After inspecting the contents, the employee whispered something into her ear.
Her brows curved.
“Hopelessly short. At that amount, we’d be hard-pressed to support even a single person.”
But, Agnes continued,
“Since it’s a proposal from the Shadow Mage, I’ll make an exception. Refusing outright would only leave both sides dissatisfied. Since you’ve shown sincerity, there’s room to negotiate.”
It felt as though the eyes behind the glasses were smiling.
“How about this? For the missing amount, you could come work in our caravan—”
“Then let me make a proposal.”
Lawrence cut her off.
He knew it was rude.
But he couldn’t let the conversation slip fully into her hands.
Consultation and negotiation were Agnes’s stage as the head of a caravan.
At the very least, he needed to speak to her as an equal.
“I’ll sell you my magic, Agnes.”
“……”
Had it been a surprise attack?
The ease she had worn all along seemed to collapse.
“Did I hear you wrong? What do you mean, sell your magic?”
“You know my skill, don’t you, Agnes? If you invest in me here today, next time I’ll answer a request of yours.”
Wasn’t this the method Bhan had spoken of?
It was the same sort of bargain he had once proposed to the Valentina sisters.
From the start, Lawrence was a mage, not a merchant.
Consultation, negotiation—things like that didn’t suit him no matter how he looked at it.
So he would simply present what he could offer.
“Sell your magic…”
Lost in thought, Agnes made another soft crunching sound.
The silence lasted longer than he expected.
By the time the teacup on the table had gone cold, she finally spoke.
“Just how far can I ask a favor to go?”
“As long as it isn’t anything unreasonable.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“If I set the line myself, there’d be no room for negotiation.”
“On the other hand, I could just choose whatever’s most advantageous to me.”
“Even accounting for that, it would still be a profitable deal.”
Lawrence spoke as though he were sweeping away Agnes’s hesitation.
“Because what’s sitting in front of you right now is a Shadow Mage.”
“……”
Her eyes widened behind the glasses.
With a sharp snap, Agnes folded her fan.
The Black Rose was falling. She set the fan down on the table.
“In the end, the self is a person’s most valuable asset. Objectively speaking, Shadow Mage, you are a Bronze Plate mercenary. However, after this matter is done, you’ll almost certainly be promoted to Silver Plate.”
It didn’t sound like she expected a reply.
Her words continued as though she were organizing her thoughts.
“Escorting the Mistra caravan. Hunting not one but two Wendigos. And in the Gangama Mountains, you defeated an ice troll entirely on your own. That is a remarkable feat, one even mages from the Magic Tower and the Royal Academy would find difficult. Of course, if we’re speaking of territory mages, that’s a different matter, but their situation is not the same as yours.”
Crack, crack.
Her bone fingers scraped across the tabletop.
“A level achieved without patronage or support, by your own hand. Once you begin receiving formal instruction, I wonder how far you’ll reach. It seems you know the value of yourself very well.”
“You won’t regret this, Agnes.”
At Lawrence’s confident tone, Agnes laughed.
It was not a smile manufactured for appearance’s sake, but one that rose from genuine amusement.
“Very well. I’ll invest in your future, Shadow Mage. Watcher Killian, tell us what supplies you need. If we prepare them on our own, there may be slight discrepancies in the details.”
“Caravan mistress.”
The speaker was not Killian.
It was one of the caravan employees who had been quietly assisting Agnes all this time.
“The deeper parts of the mine require far more preparation than other places.”
“If we’re bringing supplies from here, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“It will take time not only for the people, but also to service the relay stations. The expenses for guards will likely be higher than expected.”
“……”
Agnes’s hand reached for the fan again.
The Black Rose bloomed once more. Her voice, now hidden by the fan, turned cold.
“Are you saying the figures don’t add up?”
“Yes. The value of money is absolute. It cannot be compared to the value of a person, which changes from moment to moment. Frankly speaking, we have no way of knowing how this man’s value will change.”
“So you’re saying my judgment was wrong.”
“……”
Silence was answer enough.
At the employee’s reaction, Agnes smiled.
“How amusing. I assigned a monetary value to the Shadow Mage. I judged that he was worth investing in.”
“I do not deny that he has value. But I do not believe this man is worth as much as one hundred gold.”
“Brad.”
Was that the employee’s name?
“Mind your place. Who told you to judge this man’s value?”
A cold voice followed.
“I never told you to make the judgment. I alone decide. Brad, Agnes, head of the Black Rose Merchant Guild, is asking you a question. In your experience, was I ever a merchant who took a loss in negotiation?”
Brad did not hesitate.
“If I remember correctly, never once.”
“Then I trust you know what you should be doing now.”
“I apologize. I’ll prepare the supplies immediately.”
Brad stepped back with Killian.
“I’m sorry. I’ve shown you something unbecoming.”
Putting the fan away, she called for another employee.
“Then shall we draft the contract?”
A sheet of white paper was placed on the table.
An inked pen moved across it.
Contrary to her lovely face, her handwriting was not beautiful.
Uneven. The spacing and size were all wrong as the contract filled with her crooked script.
“……”
He didn’t point it out.
Lawrence knew how to read the room.
Still, there was one thing he had to clarify.
“The favor I’ll accept is one.”
“That’s what I wrote.”
At his correction, Agnes sounded annoyed.
He had made a mistake. She hadn’t been joking with the contract at all; it was simply so badly written that he’d misread it.
“My apologies. I misunderstood.”
He apologized quickly.
“I understand. My handwriting is difficult to read. But that’s also an advantage. It makes it easy to prove I was the one who wrote it, after all.”
As though it didn’t matter in the least, she continued writing.
“Then please sign here.”
“Let me check it once more.”
Lawrence examined the contract carefully to the very end.
One favor.
No fixed deadline.
What bothered him wasn’t the Black Rose Merchant Guild.
It was merely that the contract had been drawn up specifically against Agnes as an individual.
“You needn’t give me one.”
Lawrence declined the pen she offered.
A mage spoke with magic.
“Engrave.”
He inscribed brilliance into the contract.
The name written upon it took on a beautiful, glittering light.
“I’m the same as you, Agnes. That way, it’ll be easy to tell who signed the contract.”
“Now I see. So you’re not a Shadow Mage after all, but a Light Mage.”
This time, it was Lawrence’s turn to laugh.
* * *
Lawrence stayed at the relay station for three days.
Not to recover from travel fatigue.
It was because the supplies for the journey into the mine’s depths had not yet been prepared.
There were the supplies for the search party, of course, but the relay stations along the route into the depths also needed time to prepare what they would need.
“As soon as everything is ready, I’ll send a messenger. I’d like to meet again in Albrade Port next time.”
Agnes had left the relay station the previous night.
And among those escorting the carriage, that man had been there too.
“Are you coming with us?”
“Mm? Why is a young fellow tugging at this old man’s leg? Ahh. I suppose you want me to lend a hand like that fellow Caelo, do you?”
“I won’t deny it.”
Lawrence answered honestly.
He knew now just how strong one of the Four Knights of the Promise was.
If Bhan, the Wandering Knight, were to help with this journey, the ice troll would never dare block their path.
“Hahaha. I like the honesty. Sorry, boy, but this old man isn’t going anywhere. Like it or not, I’ve got to protect that woman.”
It was obvious who “that woman” referred to.
“At your skill level, you’ll probably make it back safely. Don’t worry too much. Ironically enough, it’s only on the edge of death that talent truly blooms.”
Bhan put his pipe in his mouth.
“Now that I think of it, aren’t you going to ask about the young lady?”
“Huh?”
That was unexpected.
“Emily… said she couldn’t answer that.”
“Well, that sounds exactly like that stubborn girl. Meeting you was probably a coincidence. There’s no way she would’ve asked the young lady for permission ahead of time.”
After taking a drag from his pipe, Bhan said,
“But I’m different. Since we’ve met like this, it must be fate. If there’s something you want to ask, go on and ask me one thing. I’ll keep it especially secret from the young lady.”