Earning Pocket Money (3)

Colin had been right. That conman—Adras or whatever the fellow's name was—had evidently gone sniveling to the temple, and wouldn't you know it, this turned out to be his own diocese.

So what in the world was I supposed to do about this?

Take the talisman version of a universal panacea—the All-Illnesses-Denied Talisman. Or the Five-Phases Soul-Restoring Talisman, which could call back even a mind that had completely lost its grip...

Plenty of what I dealt in was exactly the sort of thing the church tended to get prickly about. Then again, other stalls were peddling goods far worse than mine—there was even one promising to raise the dead right out of their graves. Sweeping all of that aside and coming to shut down me and me alone was, surely, purely because my little business had been doing too well.

"There it is! This place is the very den of the blasphemers!"

Adras bellowed it out, his voice swollen with triumph.

"Er... what business might ya have here?"

Vitten's drawl was awkward to the point of pain. He was doing his level best to keep Colin from recognizing his voice.

"I have no business with you. Bring your employer out here."

"Right sorry, but that I can't be doin'. Our employer, he's powerful shy 'round strangers."

"Insolence! 'His safety,' he says!"

Colin's escort knight roared. Vitten scratched at his helmet and spoke as if caught in a dreadful bind.

"Safety or no safety, I done took the coin, so the coin's work I've gotta do. Anyway, this here's as far as y'all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go, so kindly bear that in mind."

"A mere mercenary, and he dares oppose the holy knights of Solitas?"

"'Holy knights of Solitas'? Come off it. I might buy you bein' hired muscle for some quack peddlin' plain river water, but holy knights? Not a chance."

"What was that?!"

In one motion, blades sprang from the scabbards of more than ten holy knights. Vitten didn't so much as blink.

"Take coin for a job and you're a mercenary all the same, ain't that right? Me, at least I was hired by a proper merchant—but you lot took a swindler's pay, so I don't reckon there's much left to argue."

Not a shred of intimidation, standing before ten of the church's strongest.

So this was the "Red Wolf."

"Selling river water? Whatever do you mean?"

Colin asked Adras, half in reproof. Adras answered in a voice gone perfectly bland.

"It seems our trading company's leading position in the market draws its share of sabotage and slander. Dragging down the man on top is so much easier than improving your own competitiveness, you see. Pray don't trouble yourself over it. Legal matters are ours to manage—Your Excellency need only see to it that the sins of these blasphemers are laid bare, one and all."

"Hmm..."

Colin looked none too convinced, but there was no crack in Adras's logic.

"Very well. Detain this mercenary, and search the trading company in question from top to bottom."

"Hold on—on what charge, exactly?"

"Your employer stands accused of propagating heretical faith, of defiling the divinity of Solitas, of denying and defying the authority vested in Solitas's appointed agents—along with seven further counts of sacrilege besides. You will be given every chance to answer the charges in court. You would do well not to resist."

The holy knights stepped forward.

"You see now, don't you? Didn't I warn you? The regret is all yours."

Adras hollered at a volume clearly meant for my ears.

"Come on out and show us that high and mighty face of yours! Turning yourself in is the only way to earn leniency!"

His face was overflowing with the smile of a man who had already won.

What had he said again? Something about how even earning three hundred thousand a month, no more than thirty thousand ever touched his own hands?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Then where, exactly, had the remaining two hundred seventy thousand gone?

The money that moved the temple. The money that bought the courts. The money that forged evidence and bought the silence of witnesses...

By my reckoning, this wasn't Adras's first time running this play. The reason genuine healers were so hard to find in this great city, the reason swindlers ran the market—because the fakes had been clearing out the real ones exactly like this, I'd wager.

"...Well, shoot. Now this here's a real pickle."

Vitten's hand crept toward his scabbard. The holy knights' warning came sharp.

"Halt! Resist, and your sins will only grow deeper!"

Vitten was buying me time to slip out the back door. The whole thing had blown up too suddenly; all he could do was faithfully carry out the one order that mattered most—my identity must not be exposed—even if it meant standing against the very agents of God.

Vitten, you've done more than enough. I'll take it from here.

"Let's have a little chat."

My voice rang out loud and clear, piercing the tent's canvas.

"Hmph—a conversation, at this late hour? Shut that mouth and submit to arrest, why don't you!"

"Silence!" Colin bellowed, cutting Adras off mid-word.

"Say that again for me, would you? These old ears aren't what they were, I'm afraid."

"How about a little chat—just between the two of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us, Grandpa."

"Don't tell me..."

A deep furrow carved itself into Colin's brow.

"All of you, hold your positions here. I am going to have... a brief word with the owner of this establishment."

"A word? What on earth do you mean, a word? We need only proceed by the proper procedure!"

Adras demanded, rattled. Colin, for his part, carried on as though the man's voice had simply ceased to exist. He let Adras's clamor wash right past him, drilled into the holy knights that not so much as a rat was to slip through, then brushed by Vitten, drew back the tent flap, and stepped inside the workshop.

"Hey there, Colin."

When I waved—

"Good heavens. It really is you, Young Lord Iden."

Colin's face bloomed into a grin from ear to ear.

"Might I have the honor of holding you?"

"Of course."

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and lifted me up, light as a leaf.

"My goodness, you've grown clean past recognizing. A little longer and this old man won't manage to hold you even if he begs to, ho ho ho."

"I've been learning the sword lately, you know."

"So I heard the news. I've done nothing but pine for the day I could come to the castle—I simply had to see your accomplishments with these two old eyes of mine."

"And I've been waiting for the day I'd get to see you again."

Colin burst into a great rolling laugh. It was so thunderous that a rather strange mood was brewing outside the tent.

"But my dear boy, whatever brings you to this city? Send me so much as a word, and I'd have come running the whole way."

"I thought I'd try earning a little pocket money. There's something I want to buy, and I'd rather not go holding my hand out to Father for it."

"How admirable. His Grace will surely be delighted as well."

"By the way—about that ruckus outside..."

"Heh heh, it's nothing at all. Some merchant from the market seems to have taken a misunderstanding into his head and kicked up a fuss. I'll have a gentle word with him and send him on his way."

And just like that, ten counts of sacrilege were brushed aside as a "market merchant's misunderstanding."

"Oh, that reminds me. There's one thing gnawing at me. Though it may not amount to much."

"Not at all—this old man will help with everything within his reach. You need only say the word."

"That merchant who came along with you, Colin. As it turns out, he's been making his living selling my name."

"Selling... your name, my lord?"

Colin's brows slammed down into a thunderous scowl.

"That rust-hearted, rotted—! Forgive me, my lord. What I've just heard is simply too absurd—!"

"I'm fine, Colin."

"I am anything but fine. As it happens, I've a dinner engagement this very evening with Chief Judge Ollite of the High Court, and I will give that good friend of mine a thorough talking-to. He is to mind his conduct properly, seeing as he's ruffled Your Lordship's spirits."

"I'd appreciate that, honestly."

Colin settled into a warm, crinkled smile. He never once asked about the charges against me. He didn't spare a single glance for the potions and charms strewn about the room. He simply had no interest in them at all.

"We're heading back."

The moment Colin stepped out of the stall and gave the order, the holy knights—who had been locked in a staring contest with Vitten—went wide-eyed.

But the man most stunned of all was none other than Adras.

"Going back? What do you mean, going back? We only just arrived—departing without so much as an investigation, Your Excellency?"

"We investigated. The matter concluded as a simple misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? How much did he pay y— no, forgive me, I don't know what stories you've been fed, but this is no misunderstanding. It cannot be a misunderstanding! More than twenty witnesses stand ready to swear they saw him chant the profane names of heretic gods, sing hymns, and read straight from the doctrinal scriptures!"

"My good fellow. It. Was. A. Misunderstanding."

"No—but, I, just now—"

Word by word, Adras seemed to be running himself aground against Colin's iron wall.

"As for you. This is no time for you to be worrying over other people."

Colin cut him off, his voice grave and stern.

"If anything, you strike me as a man with problems of his own. A rigorous investigation will be opened into the legitimacy of every business you've run to date. Bear that in mind, and prepare accordingly."

Colin ordered his men to report Adras to the authorities on the spot, and to keep such watch that neither Adras nor any of his gang could slip out of the city. Legal matters clearly fell outside the temple's jurisdiction—yet the logic that had worked so smoothly a moment ago was suddenly finding no purchase at all.

As though the strength had drained from his legs, Adras crumpled where he stood.

Watching him, I arrived at one very important realization.

So that's what power is.

A life of swindling without pause to earn three hundred thousand a month, only to be content with thirty. And even then, a life where everything could be swept away by a single turn of some powerful man's fancy.

I'd half a mind to make the merchant trade my full-time occupation, the money flowed that well. Cancel that. What I needed, in the end, was power.

I folded up the stall, returned to the castle, and settled the accounts.

Total days elapsed: eighteen.

Profit, once the seed money came back out—a final balance of 160,000 baht. A sum equal to a little over eight years of my annual stipend, earned in less than a single month.

"Well? 160,000—not bad for the effort, wouldn't you say?"

"Considering recent winning bids, that puts us in stable territory—but I would not rest easy. Prices on monsters and materials are on a steep climb."

"Why are they climbing?"

"Because Prince Mabel and Prince Chris are each building up their own factions. The expectation is that prices will only keep rising."

While Vitten had been out drumming up customers, Thalia had been securing supplies and running market research. By her assessment, guaranteeing the winning bid would take 200,000 baht. But somehow scrounging up another 40,000 in two days was impossible, no matter what trick we pulled.

"What say we run the stall one more day, my lord? The conman's been dealt with, after all."

"No, Vitten."

I shook my head.

I had just confirmed, twice over, that the Church of Solitas was my sturdiest shield. I had no intention of doing business at the price of scraping their nerves raw.

"We'll go with the 160,000. If it's not enough, then it's not enough."

And so I brought my half-month grand expedition to a close. It had been an experience that taught me plenty. I'd seen firsthand how society actually turned, and even collected the wages of honest labor while I was at it.

The day before the auction, Lily came to my room. In her hands she carried a small box made of reddish-brown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wood.

"What's this?"

She lifted the lid. A quiet, elegant scent of wood drifted out. In the center of the box lay a single sealed letter.

"It belonged to the Young Madam."

So read the inscription on the envelope's face.

"I went through the manor, thinking there might be something of use to you, young master. It seems the Madam left this behind for when you'd grown up."

It was a message from my mother. Everything I knew of her had come to me secondhand, so the discovery caught me off guard.

"Read it. Please."

Lily pressed it on me again and again. Carefully, I opened the envelope.

I raised my head and looked at Lily.

"Seven years ago, a trust was set up in the Rain family's name—so that you could one day outfit yourself with armor and weapons of your own, young master. It holds 100,000 baht."

She was crying.

You cannot yearn for something you've never once had in your life.

And yet my mother's letter had created exactly that longing. Only now did I understand that a void existed inside me—and by then, my mother no longer existed anywhere in this world.

Of course, that place was never left standing empty. Watching Lily's tears, I was sure of one thing. In this life, quite a few people were already filling that hole for me.