The Taste of Ahental Gold
The tavern keeper who had shown Messi in exhaled in relief. He'd been uncertain at first, but there was no mistaking it now — this man truly knew the boss.
"You. Out."
Leto's voice was ice. The keeper scrambled from the room at once.
Messi smiled.
"It suits you better than I expected."
"Don't even joke... It's exhausting, putting on this act."
The Leto Messi knew was back. He looked like a man stuffed into clothes that didn't fit, suffering through every stitch of it.
"Does Janggun-i listen well?"
"He does. That's the only reason I can sit here like this, isn't it?"
Messi and Leto glanced toward General Ant and Kkyu. Kkyu was in the middle of telling him something through thought-speech. Judging by the way General Ant was stuffing his antennae back into his helmet, she was scolding him for letting them poke out. A moment later, the antennae sprang free again.
"I was worried I'd come too early, but your grip on the organization is already impressive."
"It's still unstable. I cleaned out every last one who pushed back in the first three days, but..."
"That must have been hard."
"They all deserved to die. Made it easy."
Leto's smile was distinctly savage.
"So what brings you here? This doesn't look like a simple check-in."
"I already have a favor to ask. This place... what should I call it?"
"The Ants of the Underground Tunnel guild. A gathering of third-rate lowlifes. Still, they hold a decent amount of power in this city."
Leto clearly wasn't fond of the members. But assembling a crew he actually liked from scratch would take far too long. After mapping out the back-alley power structure of the City of Ahental, he had picked a suitable guild, swept out the entire leadership, and given it a new name.
"Ants of the Underground Tunnel...? Did you name it yourself?"
"I had to like at least one thing about this place. 'Whore's Pocket Money' — what kind of name is that? Sigh."
"...Much better."
For something accomplished in twenty days, it was remarkably clean. And the way the members feared Leto was plain to see. He had them well and truly under his thumb.
"You know the auction house run by the Huang Merchant Group? I'll be participating, and... there's a particular ticket number I want. They keep a register, don't they? Could I get a look at it?"
"The Huang Merchant Group is thorough about personnel. We don't have many informants inside."
"Is it difficult?"
As if. He couldn't possibly fail Messi's very first request.
"Getting the entire register would be hard, but I can find out who holds the numbers you want."
"Numbers 41, 122, and 761. That's all I need. Number 761 especially — I have to know that one."
"I'll look into it immediately."
The moment Messi finished speaking, Leto summoned a subordinate. He didn't even ask why those particular numbers.
The tavern keeper, who had left to carry out the order, returned.
"We've identified them. Number 41 is Baron Piorang. Number 122 is Alec Matikle, an Unlanded Noble. Number 761 is... a wandering knight named Dennis."
While they'd been catching up, the man had come back with excellent results. Leto's organization was proving quite useful.
Messi was satisfied and about to leave when Leto stopped him again.
"Messi. There's something I want to ask... What do you plan to do about the Village Chief?"
"So the First Young Master made his move."
"He did. They swept through the Red Fox Mercenary Group and Benuda Village both. They investigated your identity."
Most people would have paled at the news that someone had been digging into their past. Messi's expression didn't so much as flicker. He'd expected as much.
"Where is the Village Chief now?"
"In the city watch prison. He probably ran his mouth for a handful of coin, as usual."
The picture came together easily enough. Ayres had brought in the Village Chief of Benuda Village, but the situation had shifted in the meantime, and now he was watching which way the wind blew. The captain of the city watch was the First Young Master's man, so they'd locked the chief up for the time being.
"I always knew he'd do that. It's thanks to him that the rest of the villagers weren't harmed."
"Even so... that old man. He's consistent, I'll give him that."
A man whose values never wavered was easy to predict — and therefore easy to use. Because Messi had counted on the Village Chief spilling everything, he'd been able to plant Hulan, Ohens, and four other knights as double agents.
Leto, who knew none of this, was fuming. Messi could only smile.
"I'll need to go out tonight. Lend me Janggun-i, would you?"
"That so? Fine. I was going to let the old man stew for another week, but have it your way."
Messi burst out laughing at Leto's joke.
Getting the tickets he wanted turned out to be easy.
Messi simply stood before Ereb with a faintly awkward look, making sure the unchanged tickets were clearly visible.
"What, they're the same? You couldn't swap them?"
"There are numbers I want, but... I felt awkward asking anyone to trade."
"Oh, come on. That's all? Who's holding the ones you want?"
The moment Messi named the three men, Ereb flashed a confident smile, snatched up his tickets, and vanished into the crowd.
Within minutes, he was back with numbers 41 and 761. Number 122 had already been traded, so that one was a loss. But he had 761 — the one Messi wanted most. That was all that mattered.
"How on earth did you get them to trade?"
Messi marveled, playing up the feat, and Ereb launched into a full account.
Number 41 had been easy, he said. The man had practically shoved the ticket at him the moment Ereb asked, insisting no trade was even necessary. Such was the overwhelming influence of House Ahental in this place.
As for Dennis, the wandering knight?
"Sir Dennis. I'd like to trade you for that number 761. I'll give you one gold."
This pampered little noble thinks money solves everything?
"I cannot. I chose this number by instinct..."
"Two gold."
"A knight is not swayed by coin!"
"Not enough? Fine. Four gold."
He thinks he can buy anything of mine with money!? What does this bastard take a knight for, insulting me like this!
...Or so he would have scolded, if the sum hadn't been so staggering.
Dennis swapped the ticket without another word. Four gold was the equivalent of a mid-sized village's tax revenue — a hundred households' worth. Far too much for a wandering knight to refuse.
And so Messi obtained the two tickets he wanted. Seeing him satisfied, Ereb looked rather pleased with himself.
Watching her older brother transformed into an obedient puppy, Erena was left with a distinctly complicated feeling.
That was when it happened.
"Well, well. If it isn't Ereb von Ahental!"
A greasy-looking man of about Ereb's age approached, four knights radiating a formidable aura at his back. The good humor drained from Ereb's face in an instant.
"Rowin von Crombell. You're here for this auction too?"
The way they addressed each other with full names and house titles made their mutual dislike abundantly clear. And with good reason. House Crombell and House Ahental were rivals — a fact every soul in the capital would readily confirm.
"Haha. There's something I want to buy. I imagine your house is here for the same reason?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ereb looked puzzled. Rowin stepped in close, as if to say don't play dumb.
"The Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method that's up for auction! A stage-five cultivation art officially recognized by Sky Castle — surely House Ahental would empty its coffers and come running for that, wouldn't they? Haha!"
The mockery in his laugh carried a clear implication: that House Ahental's own cultivation method was inadequate. Sky Castle had ranked the Ahental Mana Cultivation Method somewhere between stage four and five.
"We're the ones who came to buy it. I don't see why you're dragging our house into this."
"We're only buying it for research. We're not desperate the way your house is with its cultivation method! Ours is a stage-six art, recognized by Sky Castle itself, after all."
The way he preened, making sure everyone nearby could hear that his house's method was superior, was almost comical.
Ereb snorted. He pointed at Messi standing behind him and deflected the insult with practiced nonchalance.
"I don't know what you're imagining, but we're here to find a gift for a guest of the house."
"Oho... So you'd rather die than admit it, is that it? Pride to the bitter end. Haha!"
Rowin, still wearing that mocking smile, glanced at Messi.
"Ah, so that's the famous Saint of the Foreign Race. The black-haired prince who got Erena back on her feet?"
Rowin knew about Messi. Of course he did. One always knew a rival house's affairs better than one's own. But in the end, he was still an other-race. Rowin's interest faded as quickly as it had come, and his gaze shifted to Erena.
"Oh, Erena... I heard you'd gotten back on your feet. I was genuinely glad."
"Hello, Lord Rowin."
"Come now, I told you not to be so formal. I'm a friend of your brother's — you could call me 'big brother,' couldn't you?"
"I could hardly address the designated heir of Count Crombell so familiarly."
Erena's way of elevating him while keeping him at arm's length seemed to please Rowin. He smiled.
"I always think it, but you're far better than your brother. Heh. Once you're fully recovered, marriage proposals will come pouring in."
Rowin smiled lecherously, his eyes flicking to Erena's chest. She could hardly miss a look like that. The moment she moved to cover herself, a flicker of disgust crossing her face, Rowin struck and withdrew with exquisite timing.
"The auction's about to start, so I'll be on my way. Do buy plenty of nice things for your guest, haha!"
As he passed, the crowd parted to make a path. House Crombell was renowned for its exceptional mana cultivation method and ascending swordsmanship; their prestige was formidable.
"Still as childish as ever, that one."
"You're right, brother. Lord Rowin has always had a nasty streak, even as a child. He came here to show off how superior the Crombell cultivation method is."
Erena scrunched her nose adorably. And just as she'd said, the conversations around them had already shifted to the two houses' mana cultivation methods. Which one was superior? It was a topic that never failed to entertain.
But Messi's thoughts ran in a different direction.
"I don't think that was his real purpose."
"So he had another reason?"
Messi's eye for these things was sharper than most. Ereb knew it, and asked at once.
"I think he was nervous."
"...Rowin? Nervous?"
"...Why?"
Even Erena looked curious now.
"House Crombell doesn't outmatch House Ahental in wealth, does it?"
"Of course not! How dare they... House Crombell? Those muscle-brains have muscle for brains — they wouldn't know how to make money if it bit them!"
"Then there's your answer. Have you forgotten where we are?"
This was the Huang Merchant Group's Second Auction House. Exceptional mana cultivation methods meant nothing here. Neither did ascending swordsmanship. Only the hierarchy of gold decided who laughed and who wept.
"You don't mean..."
"He was intimidated by us, Sir Messi?"
"Exactly. From the moment we appeared, he must have been wondering — are they after the same thing we are? That worry would have eaten at him."
"Ah, so that's why he brought up the cultivation method..."
"Yes. He deliberately mentioned the Ahental Mana Cultivation Method to needle your pride. If you actually bid on it, you'd be admitting that Ahental's method is inferior."
Messi's explanation gave the siblings an entirely new way of seeing the situation. Erena was impressed. And she was certain. The Rowin she knew was exactly the sort of man who would do that.
"Which means he wants that item desperately. By now he knows we have no interest in it, so he's heading back in a good mood."
The moment Messi finished, Ereb began to chuckle — a low, unwholesome sound. The corners of his mouth were climbing. He'd found something entertaining.
"Ahaha... So even he knew his place and got scared, did he...? Yes. That would be it... Heh heh heh!"
Recognizing that Ereb's inner delinquent was making a rapid comeback, Ramang simply closed his eyes.
"I suppose... we ought to live up to his expectations. What do you think, Messi..."
"Heh. Didn't I tell you before? You have to move in the direction your opponent doesn't want."
"Right... Heh. Time to teach that ill-mannered bastard that life is a real fight."
A mad gleam lit Ereb's eyes.
The auction began.
Rowin von Crombell sat in his seat looking far more satisfied than he had earlier.
Whew. Thank the gods. Those crows who know nothing but jewels have no interest in cultivation methods.
How startled he'd been, seeing Ereb walk into the auction house. Of all the auctions for those gold-obsessed maggots to attend, it had to be this one!
This was a task Count Crombell himself had ordered. He'd sent his own son — it had to succeed.
Count Crombell was a typical martial man, with a keen interest in all manner of mana cultivation methods. The method of the Einherz ducal house was no exception.
The Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method. Some three hundred years ago, it had been the secret art of Duke Einherz — the man they called the Iron Wall, who had marched from victory to victory without a single defeat. But when the Einherz Principality fell to an unforeseen disaster, many of its techniques were lost, and others survived only in fragments. The mana cultivation method was one of the latter.
The Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method on the auction block today was an incomplete art, with portions lost. Even so, Sky Castle had rated it stage five. The complete version would be staggering.
If we can just secure this, we'll succeed in restoring it...
They said heaven favored those who yearned. For Count Crombell, a martial man who had long hungered for a superior cultivation method, a fragment of the remaining portion had fallen into his hands years ago. From that day, he had worked tirelessly to find the other half of the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method that would appear today.
The expensive information fees had paid off. Sky Castle had promptly informed them of today's auction, and Rowin had come on his father's orders.
Whew... I've driven off the ones I was most worried about. I can participate in peace.
Perhaps because it was an incomplete, uncertain cultivation method, there were no competitors House Crombell needed to watch besides House Ahental. With his mind at ease, Rowin could afford to take an interest in the other lots.
Oh, that... I've wanted that artisan's piece for a long time.
It was an artifact in the form of a brooch, meant to be pinned to clothing. Without thinking, Rowin raised his ticket and entered the bidding.
"Number 14, five gold."
Rowin had no interest in nickel-and-diming his way up a few silvers at a time. He opened high, and no one else joined in.
Heh. Plenty of room to spare.
That was the moment.
"Number 761, six gold."
Huh?
The voice was familiar. He turned his head, and there, through the crowd, was Ereb holding up a ticket.
Of all people, that bastard wants this too!
Rowin had already thought five gold was steep for the brooch, so he simply let it go. Even then, he still believed the clash was a coincidence.
Fine. I wanted that one anyway.
"Number 14, three gold."
"Number 761, four gold."
That was a helmet I wanted to pick up...
"Number 14, eight gold."
"Number 761, nine gold."
...This one should be fine, right?
"Number 14, six gold."
"Number 761, seven gold."
"Number 14, eight gold!"
"Mm. Number 761, nine gold."
What kind of fucked-up situation is this?
He had the money, and he still couldn't buy a damn thing...?
Only then did he realize that something had gone very, very wrong.