Finding the Spirit Stone (2)
“Interesting.”
Isaac’s eyes rapidly scanned the ledgers. “Next.” “Next.” “Next.”
Benders stared at him with a look of utter disbelief. Not that it changed anything.
“Do I really have to do this?”
“Got anyone trustworthy?”
“Well, no.”
Benders looked displeased. He’d risen to the position of mayor, and once he’d been the head of a great merchant house. Why should he be waiting on Isaac hand and foot? But he couldn’t refuse, either. Excluding himself, there was no one else suitable to review the black market’s transaction records. Anyone who might have qualified was either dead or burning with rage and hatred toward the Baisman. Benders was the only fitting choice.
“Are you actually understanding what you’re reading?”
“What, you think I’ve got time to kill, so I’m just pretending to read in front of you? Next.”
In less than an hour, Isaac had skimmed through three years’ worth of ledgers. It wouldn’t take even that long to go through the next ten years. Benders couldn’t believe it.
As befitting black market records, the transactions were all encrypted. The mix of ancient languages and common tongue was hard enough to parse on its own, but layered encryption methods were jumbled throughout. Codes even varied by trading partner. Unless you’d rolled in these circles for years, deciphering it at a glance was impossible. And that was only if you knew how to decrypt it in the first place.
“If you don’t get something, just ask.”
“Caesar, Atbash, Vigenère, polyalphabetic, word substitution. It’s mostly a mash-up of those.”
“……You really spotted all that at a glance?”
“Pay a little attention, and it’s not hard.”
“Hah.”
Benders let out a hollow laugh. Normally, they’d decrypt the ledgers into documents and then burn those for verification. Even one full ledger took a whole day like that, but Isaac was breezing through dozens just by glancing.
Benders couldn’t fathom why someone with a brain like that had hidden it away until now.
“What are you looking for?”
“Spirit Stone. The marquis handed one over to Akanrauper.”
“Th-that Spirit Stone… you don’t mean Vivi’s—no, Violet’s, do you?”
“Yeah.”
“You should’ve said so sooner. What exactly am I looking for?”
Benders, who’d been observing coolly until now, rolled up his sleeves. Isaac smirked at the sight.
“Why so eager about Violet’s business?”
“Why’s that come up out of nowhere?”
“It’s basic to know what kind of person works for you, right?”
“You’d never go bankrupt in business.”
Benders stroked his bushy beard along its grain as he spoke.
“Hm.”
He seemed lost in thought for a moment before slowly opening his mouth.
“……Vivi’s like a daughter to me. As you can see, there’ve been women who spread their legs for my money, but none who truly loved me or wanted to bear my child. Not that I ever wanted kids. But what’s the sin of the child born from it?”
Benders wiggled his stubby hands and feet as he spoke. A dwarf, and a short one at that. In a world where even the able-bodied had to endure grueling days unless they were nobles, he didn’t want to curse another life with his own greed.
“Anyway. That’s when I met Vivi, along with a letter from Countess Plour asking me to take her in as an adopted daughter. I owed the countess my life once before. This repays that debt.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, even with this pathetic body I was born with… I wanted to try being a father at least once in my life. Vivi showed up here at thirteen, commanding dozens of grown men. I could see her swallowing the urge to run, drawing the eyes of great houses and the marquis. It was heartbreaking and admirable. Anyone with a heart would want to help that girl. And I owed the countess a debt, so I had no way out.”
Benders answered with eyes gazing into the distance. Then, as if embarrassed by his own words, he cleared his throat.
“Ahem. You must have too much time on your hands, prying into this.”
“Violet would’ve loved to hear it.”
“Enough pointless chatter. Tell me how I can help.”
Benders said stiffly, hardening his expression for no reason. Isaac wasn’t one to pry into others’ affairs as a hobby, so he got to the point.
“You know about Goethe’s vassals and collaterals?”
“It doesn’t make sense for a merchant not to know his trading partners.”
“Then check the families heavy into slave and arms trading. And ones that bought magic tools useful for stealth.”
“Got it.”
Benders picked up a ledger and replied solemnly. It didn’t help much. By the time Isaac had gone through nearly twenty, Benders had barely finished one.
“But what are you planning to do?”
Benders asked as he decrypted a ledger onto parchment. The wrinkles around his brow and cheeks deepened characteristically.
“Vassals and collaterals avoiding black market deals are rare. Turn all these families into enemies, and Goethe won’t hold. They’re rotten pillars, sure, but they still prop up Goethe all the same.”
“I told you. I’m not after them—I’m looking for the Spirit Stone.”
Isaac said as he checked Benders’ parchment summary.
“How does this tell you who bought the Spirit Stone?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
About two hours passed like that.
“Two families dealing in slaves and narcotics. Three that acquired stealth-useful magic tools.”
“What does this even tell you?”
“Of course, it’s not certain on its own. Need cross-verification. What about recent black market transactions?”
“Not sorted yet.”
“Bring them.”
Benders hauled over an armful of stacked parchments from the side.
“Record every family that used the black market recently. Focus on unusual magic stones or elixirs and potions.”
“Yes.”
The ledger-sorting marathon of over two hours ended on a single sheet of fiber paper.
“Mark, Hausen, Ripe……”
Isaac mulled over the family names. All collaterals. Mostly baronies, but influential ones. Vassals like Goethe faced restrictions on armament and commerce, but collaterals were free of such constraints. In terms of amassed wealth and military might alone, some rivaled Goethe.
“Is Akanrauper’s captain among them?”
“Opposite.”
“Opposite?”
“Why would a family holding the Spirit Stone bother with the black market? Not after the marquis purged the great houses and ramped up the risks of illicit trades.”
“Ah.”
“Where’s Boatmer?”
“Boatmer? You mean the collateral viscounty?”
“Yeah.”
“Hm.”
Benders peered through the fiber paper.
“Not in recent records, at least.”
“How long between binding ledgers into books?”
“Usually three months per volume.”
“So Boatmer hasn’t touched the black market in at least three months.”
“Pretty much.”
“Gather everything on Boatmer.”
Isaac left those words and exited the mayor’s office.
“Haa. What a mess.”
Benders sighed. The neatly organized ledgers were scattered everywhere. The dwarf pursed his lips and began tidying the secret room.
“Arms higher!”
“Legs, legs!”
“Wolfgang, Wolfgang! Solid front guard!”
“Don’t break! Hermann!”
Training was in full swing in the backyard of Randolf’s inn. It was just one instructor and two kids, but the mood was serious and heavy.
Suddenly, Hermann, who’d been losing in strength and stance, twisted his wooden sword.
“Ack—!”
“You okay, bro?”
“Where’s hitting the wrist allowed? This is sword on sword!”
“But it’s a technique too……”
Carlson taught the two Randolf brothers the same basic swordsmanship. Wolfgang stubbornly focused on drilling the forms, while Hermann concentrated on applying them.
“Wolfgang. As Hermann says, that’s swordsmanship too. Think you’d say the same after getting sliced by a real blade?”
“……”
Wolfgang looked sullen.
“And Hermann. Your basics are still lacking. You caught Wolfgang because he’s raw, but don’t think that’ll work forever.”
Now Hermann looked sullen too.
“Lose heart?”
“No right to hold a sword.”
Wolfgang and Hermann answered Carlson’s question in unison.
“Good.”
Carlson ruffled the brothers’ hair with both hands.
“Once everything’s done, Carlson, you could live as a master. You’ve got a knack for teaching.”
Isaac said as he entered the backyard.
“Ah, young master.”
Wolfgang and Hermann awkwardly placed hands over hearts and bowed.
“Business all wrapped up?”
“For now. Wolfgang, Hermann.”
Isaac handed each a silver coin. They were just a year or two younger, but mentally worlds apart—like grandfather and grandson. To Isaac, they were adorable little grandkids.
“Thank you!”
“Thanks, young master!”
Wolfgang and Hermann beamed. Working at the inn with their mother had given them a sharper sense of money than other kids their age.
“Step out. I need to talk to the young master.”
“Yes, uncle!”
The brothers dashed excitedly through the inn’s back door.
“Learn anything?”
“You?”
“Nothing. Combed the sewers like lice, but finding people’s hard enough—ones who’ll talk, even rarer. Since the great houses’ remnants and gangs got massacred three days ago, everyone’s avoiding the black market down there.”
Just as Isaac intended. Whether Baisman or anyone else, the key black market figures had been wiped out. The great houses’ lords’ deaths sparked resistance, but crushing that left only fear.
“No word on the Spirit Stone, obviously.”
“Anyone who’d know grabbed their valuables and bolted. Sewers were empty inside. How long you staying? Finding the Spirit Stone is your father’s job. Goethe needs the count, not you.”
“Worried about Binvelt?”
“……”
Carlson shut his mouth, pierced through.
Temporary or not, he was a company commander in Binvelt’s garrison. He’d faced death alongside those soldiers against the wolves. Those who crossed death’s line together became true comrades. It was the same everywhere—mercenary bands, Winterband, Binvelt. That’s why Randolf lingered in his heart. He’d nearly died from that needless camaraderie more than once. But for Carlson, who’d lost all family and lived adrift, it was all that held him together.
“Been away too long.”
“Don’t trust Bessimer?”
“He’s got leader vibes, but no great commander.”
“Cold assessment.”
“I get we need Azer Mountain iron ore and smiths. But won’t the mayor send them to Binvelt? City’s stabilizing soon enough.”
“Boatmer.”
“……?”
A question mark floated on Carlson’s face. Why bring that name up now?
Klaus von Boatmer. Wealthy Boatmer viscount. The greedy old bastard who slaughtered Carlson’s family.
“Akanrauper’s captain took the Spirit Stone, and that captain’s either tight with Boatmer or Boatmer kin.”
“Certain?”
“Guess. But a solid one. Carlson, head to Binvelt.”
“Permission… or order?”
“Order. Train the soldiers.”
“To what level?”
“Like war’s at the door.”
The coming tournament would be the backdrop for a domain war. Best to prevent war, but the fallback had to be ready.