Lump Sum
“Ugh…!”
The deep-rooted tree does not sway. Seolhwa was truly feeling the wisdom in that old proverb.
“Is the sea too harsh for a land grub like you, who looks like a gigolo? Kahaha!”
“This is my first time on a ship, Duke Fraia. I've never even seen the ocean before.”
“Save those excuses for the sea god after you've been dumped on the ocean floor.”
Stroking his jet-black beard that looked as fresh as seaweed, Francis Fraia held out a bottle.
“What's that?”
“A cure-all.”
Moribwe 30-Year Vintage
“Isn't this the specialty Lady Moribwe gave me?”
“Everything on this ship is mine! And liquor only shows its worth when you drink it.”
With a laugh mixed with just the right amount of absurdity, he downed the entire bottle of Fairy's Tear in one go.
The thrilling first kiss against his palate. The oak scent that loosened the muscles in his mouth. The grape aroma that teased his throat and rose through his nose. The trace left on his lips turned to thirst, craving the next sip without delay.
“Not a famous liquor for nothing.”
“How's that? That pathetic seasickness all gone now?”
“Huh?”
The deck, which had been swaying and tossing him about moments ago, now felt solid underfoot. He had no idea what sorcery this was, but Seolhwa had to nod in acknowledgment.
At that moment.
“Land ahead! Land ahead!”
The lookout scanning the horizon from the crow's nest shouted. Their ship was in the lead, so the cry of land echoed back to the trailing vessels.
“Prepare to make landfall! You maggoty bastards! Time for destruction and pillage!”
“Pardon?”
“Captain, didn't we retire from that line of work?”
“We're a bit too old for that sort of thing now…”
“Even the lord of the Split Archipelago can't throw his weight around away from home.”
Unlike Francis, whose voice rose with excitement, his men's reactions were lukewarm.
“Hey now! You lot have been ashore too long—lost the salt in your souls, have you?”
“Duke Fraia?”
“And what's with you!”
“Are we truly going to arrive at Petergorsk after all?”
“Where else would it be? You think I got lost at sea?”
“Then the Manrmursk knight commander will probably be there to greet us.”
“You think I'd tuck tail at the sight of one knight!?”
“It's Sir Gustav.”
“What!? Ahem. Even if that old ghost Whitebeard is there, it changes noth—”
“And a knight commander has his pride—he won't come alone; he'll bring his troops. Of course, I have no doubt you're the invincible sea lord, Duke Fraia.”
Seolhwa took another swig of Fairy's Tear before speaking.
“On such a fine day as today, with a refreshing sea breeze blowing, is there any real need to kick up sand and dust on land for a pointless brawl? I beseech you, Duke Fraia, to show mercy toward Petergorsk with your boundless magnanimity.”
A noble who draws his sword can't sheathe it without slicing at least a radish for the sake of face. What he'd just said was close to drunken rambling from the daytime drinking. No matter how bold the most boisterous elector was, launching a reckless attack on another elector's territory was suicide.
Seemingly pleased with Seolhwa's face-saving words, Francis sheathed his broad-bladed cutlass.
“Your silver tongue just extended Whitebeard's lifespan. Hm. Hm.”
“Of course! How about a toast to Duke Fraia's mercy?”
“Kahahat! Cheers!”
“Ships sighted! Knight Commander!”
Petergorsk had remained an abandoned port until the mercenaries arrived, but it now sported a proper makeshift dock that they had constructed.
“What house banner are they flying?”
“That's… Fraia's banner.”
“Hoist the flag granting docking permission.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the flag was raised high above the Petergorsk port office, ships of various sizes began to pull into the docks in an orderly fashion. Francis was the first to leap onto the shore as if he had been waiting for this exact moment for an eternity, and Seolhwa followed closely behind him.
“Welcome to Petergorsk, Duke Fraia. I am Gustav, the knight commander of Manrmursk.”
“Whitebeard looks spry as ever!”
A faint ripple crossed Gustav's face at the nickname he hadn't heard in ages.
“A name I haven't heard in a long time… I trust the lord of the Split Archipelago has been well?”
“My flesh knows no limits, just like the endless waves of the sea! Heh!”
“Healthy, my foot. Captain, you still can't sleep without cracking open a bottle these days, do you?”
A man who seemed to be Francis's adjutant jabbed without hesitation. His men, disembarking behind, grinned mockingly at Francis, flashing gold teeth.
“What! You bastard!”
Seolhwa stepped forward through the bristling, dog-fur beard of Francis.
“Deputy Warden Seolhwa, I trust you're well.”
“Feels twice as healthy now that I'm off that ship. Is Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek in Manrmursk?”
“Yes. Please settle today's docking fees through me.”
At the mention of money, Francis lumbered over, shoving aside his bickering men.
“Right, the gold! You gigolo! Hand over the coin for hauling these land beasts here!”
“Shouldn't you show the goods first, Duke Fraia?”
“You landlubbers are all so suspicious? Fine! Boys, let the land beasts out!”
Neigh-hi-hing!
Horses and griffins began streaming off the ships docked along the pier. Animals get anxious moving from stable ground to a rocking ship due to the sudden change—and vice versa. One or two might buck wildly, but not a single hoof scraped; they came down meek as lambs.
Fraia's sailors this good at handling animals…? Wait a minute.
The animals' expressions as they disembarked were odd. Corners of their mouths quirked in what looked like smiles, eyes glazed over like…
“Duke Fraia?”
“What?”
“These beasts seem awfully docile. How did you manage that?”
“Man or beast, they're all the same. One bottle of this, and problem solved!”
Francis grinned through his black beard, yellow teeth flashing, shaking a liquor bottle.
“Go on, inspect 'em! These land beasts are in prime shape, faces and all! Kahaha!”
Seolhwa, wearing an incredulous look, wove between the horses and griffins, checking them over. Mane and coat sheen, leg muscles, neither too skinny nor fat. Drawing on memories from his Free City mercenary days, he inspected meticulously.
“Unbelievable. Can they even drink booze?”
“You think there's a rule on who can drink? If they drink, they drink. No more nitpicking? Enough excuses—time to pay up.”
“Deputy Warden Seolhwa, you will also be required to cover the docking fees incurred at Petergorsk.”
He had no gold or even silver on him, but the creditors on either side gave no quarter.
What now…
Run inland, get caught. Flee by sea, get caught. Patting a horse's flank absently, Seolhwa seemed to steel himself.
“Deferred… payment.”
“Long time no see! Deputy Warden Seolhwa!”
As all eyes fixed on Seolhwa's lips, a familiar voice rang out from afar. To Seolhwa right then, it was the most welcome sound.
The continent's richest man, whose fortune defied estimation. Utopia prisoner Ilka Pavola—who had loaned (or would loan) Seolhwa 300 million gold—waved.
Beside him sat a hefty sack.
“Were you about to say deferred payment?”
“Of course not. Just noticed some dust on the horse's back—poof.”
Ignoring Gustav's narrowed eyes, Seolhwa approached Ilka.
“How'd you know to come here? Perfect timing, though!”
“Where pigeons can fly, she hears and watches.”
With a warm smile, Ilka shook papers dusted with pigeon feathers.
“Brought some Moribwe special magic cookies. Wonder if Cynthia will like them.”
“Is there a cookie she wouldn't? Heh heh heh.”
Gustav and Francis approached, watching the exchange.
“You landlubbers got tongues longer than a kraken's? Cough up the coin before my beard freezes off in this frozen hellhole!”
“Of course, Duke Fraia. How many horses and griffins?”
“982 horses, 102 winged horses.”
“You live in a bottle, yet you remember numbers like that precisely?”
“Hmph! Math ain't my forte, but no one beats me at coin-counting.”
While listening, Ilka rummaged in the chest with the sacks and pulled out a parchment.
It was grubby, like it'd rolled in a market gutter, listing prices for various goods.
“Imperial capital horse and griffin prices from yesterday.”
“Cynthia's doing too?”
Ilka winked instead of answering.
“Per market, lowest yesterday was 2,000 gold per horse, 6,000 for griffins. Shall we go with that, Duke Fraia?”
“Hey! Trying to lowball me at rock-bottom? Land deals are famous for fleecing the blind, and you're the type!”
“Lowest price, but full cash, no fees. No horse market on earth pays out same-day cash without commissions.”
“Khm… 2,500 horses, 7,000 griffins!”
“2,100 horses, 6,300 griffins. That's my limit.”
“2,400! 6,600!”
“2,150! 6,400! And—!”
Francis swallowed hard, mumbling numbers.
“I'll throw in some of Lady Moribwe's Fairy's Tear.”
“Deal! Kahahat!”
982 horses x 2,150G + 102 griffins x 6,400G = 2,111,300G + 652,800G. Total 2,764,100G.
“How much!?”
“Two… two hundred seventy million gold!?”
“Is that even human money?”
Mercenaries gathering nearby gaped at the sum.
Seolhwa smiled casually while inwardly pondering, eyeing them.
Some among them surely have ties to Sachsen or the emperor.
Was flashing his wealth before them wise? What did he gain and lose?
For now, 3,000 mercenaries temporarily employed by Manrmursk's Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek.
A natural chance to prove my resources to them.
Three hundred million gold—untouchable in a lifetime of daily gigs. A mysterious man paying lump sum? No first impression beat a three-hundred-million-gold one.
But word will reach Sachsen and the emperor too.
Three thousand mercenaries were already stationed in Petergorsk, backed by enough gear to arm them all and a thousand horses and griffins intended to breed a powerful cavalry. With Seolhwa holding the reins of such a massive operation, this suspicious accumulation of power was bound to draw unwanted eyes from across the entire continent.
“Want installments? Interest, of course!”
Misreading Seolhwa's silence, Francis sneered.
Begging safe paths never reaches the goal.
Weighing risks and costs, Seolhwa turned to Francis.
“Lump sum.”
“What!?”
Seolhwa's golden declaration, brimming with confidence. Mercenaries' jaws dropped, eyes locked on him—might as well unhinge.
“Who the hell is that guy—no, that noble!?”
“No noble in the world shells out 270 million gold in cash.”
As heavy sacks of gold transferred to Francis's ship—too much even to lift properly—Seolhwa asked.
“Seems a lot for platinum coins.”
“Those are all standard gold.”
“Pardon?”
“Duke Fraia rarely takes platinum. Says 100 gold equals one platinum, so no fun in the clink-clink cascade.”
Clink-clink!
“Kahaha! Who knew land beasts turned to gold coins! Prep for dog-like boozing back in Fraia, you lot!”
Seeing Francis greedily clutching and scattering gold to his men, it suddenly made sense.
Seolhwa approached Gustav, who'd watched silently.
“Total transaction: 2,764,100 gold.”
“Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek said triple docking fees—15% of the deal.”
“Of course. Gold for you too, Sir Gustav?”
Eying Francis, who was practically bathing in gold, Gustav replied.
“Platinum's fine for me.”
With all payments settled, Ilka's sacks lightened. In their place sat chests of goods from Lady Moribwe for Seolhwa.
“Where to now, Deputy Warden Seolhwa?”
“A public servant's path is set.”
Gazing at Francis's ship, which had sailed off without a backward glance now that it had its gold, Seolhwa said breezily.
“Time to report dispatch complete. Back to Utopia.”