The Young Master of Sepia
Raon wet his lips with wine, a faint smile touching his mouth.
He said he'd personally see to Cadis's arm, didn't he?
Everything's going according to plan.
Derus had mentioned he already had several methods in mind for repairing Cadis's shoulder. The foremost among them would surely be seeking out a physician of the Saint of Rags' caliber, or hunting down a spiritual elixir — which meant he would not be returning to House Robert anytime soon.
That's exactly why I cut Cadis's shoulder all the way through.
Twisting the muscle fibers and mana circuits while severing Cadis's arm had been an act of revenge, yes — but it had also been a way to force Derus into treating him, buying Raon the time he needed to enter the Undersea Dungeon.
Raon quietly glanced back. Derus was wearing a kindly smile, chatting with the people drifting toward him.
Good.
I'm glad you're still a snake.
Knowing both the masked Derus and the unmasked one made the monster's behavior easy to predict. That knowledge of Derus's true face would remain the finest blade Raon possessed against him going forward.
"Hey! The pizza's going cold!"
Wrath flapped his little hands like a sparrow and jabbed a finger at the plate, just as Raon was smiling in satisfaction.
Ah, sorry.
Raon nodded and reached for the pizza. The salty cheese, the crisp dough, and the beef glazed in a spicy sauce each kept their own character even as they melted together into something harmonious.
"This establishment makes a fine pizza. It cannot compare to the pineapple girl's, but it is more than enough to satisfy This King!"
Wrath rubbed his cheeks, grinning as if he were in heaven.
That so.
Raon huffed a quiet laugh and swallowed the rest of the slice in one bite.
Derus is taken care of. All that's left is figuring out how to reach the Undersea Dungeon.
He'd heard they would be returning to Zieghart around the day after tomorrow, now that the Six Kings conference and the duels were over. He needed a way to slip off without going home, and though he'd turned the problem over from every angle, nothing satisfactory had presented itself.
If I could just find something good…
"Ooooh!"
Wrath's moan of delight burst out while Raon was still turning the matter over in his head.
"It isn't the cheese — the pizza itself is melting in your mouth! A splendid bite!"
He pointed at the empty plate and rocked from side to side like a weighted doll.
"Next! Next is the meat and the shrimp! Offer up the lamb ribs and grilled shrimp that caught This King's eye the moment we arrived!"
Calm down a little.
Raon shoved the flushed, overexcited Wrath down and stood. He went to the buffet and came back with the garlic-butter shrimp and lamb ribs Wrath had been craving.
"Shrimp. The shrimp must come first!"
Wrath drummed his round little hands on the table, pointing.
And this is supposed to be a Demon King?
The moment food was in front of him, he looked no older than a child of ten — and that was being generous. That this creature was a Demon King, and the Monarch of Wrath no less, still defied belief.
No matter how you look at it, he's just a food bug…
Raon clicked his tongue and peeled a shrimp. The plump meat, melted through with soft butter, was rich and faintly sweet. The garlic was bright enough to cut the grease, and he could have kept eating them forever.
"It fills the whole mouth! This is cuisine!"
Wrath muttered that he lived for this flavor and sniffled.
"Now the lamb ribs!"
Yes, yes.
Raon snorted and tore into a rib. The juices trapped in the meat burst across his tongue, flooding his mouth with a deep, savory richness. The flesh was so tender it barely needed chewing before it slipped down.
"Melting in the mouth… no different from warm ice cream!"
That so.
While Wrath was drowning in bliss, Raon let his gaze wander the hall.
She's still over there.
Runaan had not left the ice cream station. She drifted in a tight orbit around it, methodically destroying every flavor on offer.
She's put away a whole tub by now, hasn't she?
Even a rough count suggested Runaan had emptied an entire container by herself. When it came to passion for ice cream, she looked fully capable of matching Wrath.
Burren's the same as ever, too.
Building connections even here.
Burren had gathered with martial artists from the other Six Kings factions and was deep in conversation. The easy claps on the shoulder said they'd already grown fairly close.
And Marta…
Marta had piled her table with so much meat it could barely hold it all, and she was eating her way through the mountain. It was her usual self in every respect but one.
Why is the Third Prince sitting there?
Grier, Third Prince of Owen, sat in a daze in front of Marta as she swallowed chunk after chunk of meat. He wasn't eating. He wasn't drinking. He was, quite literally, doing nothing but staring at her.
"You gonna eat or what? It's pissing me off — why are you just staring!"
Marta's face twisted, clearly not pleased with the attention.
"I am sated merely watching you dine. Ah — you have a little something at the corner of your mouth."
The Third Prince offered a bright, refreshing smile and drew out a handkerchief. The moment he reached to wipe the sauce from Marta's lip, her fist was already in the air.
"You crazy bastard!"
"Guh—!"
The punch stamped his forehead and drove him into the floor.
"Ugh, that's greasy as hell! I've got goosebumps!"
Marta shuddered hard, moved to the next table, and went right back to chewing meat.
Raon snorted as he watched the Third Prince stagger.
That will never work on her.
Background, looks, and skill might have made that little performance land with someone else. With Marta, it would never take. His favorability had probably just hit rock bottom.
"F-first the temple, and now the forehead…"
The Third Prince rose, his jaw trembling. Even after taking the hit, his eyes were bright. No — he looked even happier than before.
"The first to drive a fist into my forehead is you! I have fallen for—"
"Get lost!"
He was still mumbling that nonsense as he approached her. She chopped him across the throat, and he went down again.
That's going to be a long road.
Raon shook his head and stood.
"Don't tell me you're going of your own accord?"
Dessert, right?
"At last This King's teachings have taken root!"
Wrath grinned wide and nodded.
"Serve a little better and This King might even consider taking you on as a subordinate!"
I'll pass.
The moment Raon started toward the ice cream line, Runaan's head snapped around. Her vacant eyes were overflowing with happiness.
How many is that?
Runaan's plate was heaped with bead ice cream like a drift of foam. She seemed to have had her fill of mint chocolate; the rest was a jumble of every other flavor.
"Raon, ice cream too?"
"Yeah."
"I recommend the mint chocolate."
Runaan blinked her empty eyes and pointed toward it.
"Today's is even better."
"Mint chocolate! As expected of This King's subordinate!"
Wrath nodded in deep satisfaction and shoved his face in close.
"Scoop the mint chocolate, as the ice cream girl recommends. No — take the entire tub!"
Runaan would cry.
"Ahem. Then five scoops will suffice…"
Leaving that aside, mint chocolate tastes terrible.
"You tasteless wretch! This King pities you, ignorant of mint chocolate's refreshing grace!"
Sure. I'll pitifully stick to cookies and cream.
Raon nodded and scooped two portions of cookies-and-cream onto his plate.
"R-Raon?"
Wrath called his name — a rare event — and sidled up to cling to his shoulder.
"Raon? You ate a great many rich things today. If you finished with mint chocolate, both mouth and stomach would turn as cool and clean as if you'd breathed in pine…"
His voice had gone as soft as a jade bead rolling across silk.
Should I?
"You should! Your stomach would settle and you would sleep like—"
Mm. I'm training tonight.
"Ghk — you conniving little ghost!"
Wrath hadn't even gotten through a proper attempt at persuasion before rage took him. Of course, he had no strength to back it, so he just flapped around like a scrap of paper.
The sight was a little pitiful, so Raon walked over to the mint chocolate anyway.
"Eheh?"
Wrath turned, grinning.
"What in the world has gotten into you today! This King is pleased, but also uneasy!"
Raon so rarely did anything nice for him that Wrath managed an astonishing expression — smiling with the left side of his face and scowling with the right in open suspicion.
No reason.
He'd only meant to soothe Wrath a little, since the poor thing had suffered through having his stats stolen today, and they were already eating.
"Huh?"
Raon stopped with the scoop halfway to the mint chocolate. Unlike every other flavor, the mint chocolate well was empty. There wasn't even half a spoonful left to take.
It's gone?
Runaan had eaten more than half of it, and other people who'd watched her had scooped some out of curiosity. There was almost nothing remaining.
"GYAAAAAAH!"
Wrath threw both hands in the air and screamed.
"Ice cream girl!"
Now that's Wrath.
Raon huffed a laugh. If he'd actually gotten to eat it properly, that wouldn't have been Wrath at all. Despairing because he couldn't eat something suited him far better.
Hm?
He was turning back to his seat with only the cookies and cream when a red-haired elf slid past like a shadow.
What's that man gotten himself into this time?
The one drifting through the crowd like a zombie was Rimer. He smelled of alcohol, but he didn't look drunk so much as hollowed out — as if his soul had simply left his body.
"Squad Leader?"
"Huh?"
At the sound of his name, he turned his head in a daze. The focus had gone out of his eyes.
"R-Raon. Our lucky charm!"
"Did something happen?"
"Kh-hhk!"
Rimer came at him on the verge of tears and hung his head.
"Hey. Eat the ice cream first…"
"This way, please."
Raon led Rimer into a corner and threw up an aura barrier to keep the sound from leaking out.
"What happened?"
"My money! My retirement fund! My five thousand gold coins — gone!"
He smashed the floor with a look of a man who'd lost his mind.
"Can't we do this while eating? Cookies and cream is perfectly fine…"
"Five thousand gold coins?"
The five thousand gold had presumably been won at the betting tables. Why it had vanished was another matter entirely.
"Look at this."
Rimer pulled a blackened scrap of paper from his pocket. It looked like a betting slip, and from the size, more than half of it had burned away.
"The part with the seal on it burned, so they said they can't cash it…"
He toppled over backward, wailing that his life was ruined.
"Hrm…"
Raon unfolded the slip and nodded.
It's wrecked, all right.
Of all the places to burn, it had to be the seal that verified authenticity. Of course they wouldn't pay out.
But…
If I play this right, we might still get it.
He had nothing to lose by trying. He nodded, having already made up his mind.
"I'll give it a shot."
"Y-you can?"
"I'm not certain. And even if we get something, it probably won't be the full amount."
"I don't care! Anything's fine, so long as it's something! Please!"
Rimer grabbed Raon's ankle and begged him to recover even a hundred gold.
"Let's go right now!"
"Ah — before that, I need to find my wallet."
"Wallet?"
"Dorian!"
After finishing every last bit of ice cream, Raon took Dorian and headed for the finance department that had managed the tournament's official betting.
"The kingdom itself ran the gambling?"
Wrath settled onto Raon's shoulder, his stomach full but his mood still sour from missing the mint chocolate.
Of course. The money riding on this one wasn't a joke.
On the continent, gambling was a form of entertainment. Countless halls operated in both the shadows and the light, fully legal. A betting pool had naturally opened around the duels, and the office in charge of it was the one place that would never take the money and run: the Finance Department of the Owen Kingdom.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Raon stepped into the office of the official who had overseen the tournament wagers. The man, who looked to be in his thirties, started to lift his head — then shot to his feet.
"Hhk! White Sword Dragon! Ah — forgive me! Swordsman Raon!"
He bowed, eyes wide with panic.
"It's all right."
Raon offered a faint smile and came to stand before the desk.
"I've come to cash a ticket."
As he said it, he held out Rimer's betting slip, half of it burned away.
"Ah. This is…"
The official frowned down at it.
"My apologies. I explained this to Sir Rimer as well, but the seal portion has burned, so I cannot process the exchange."
"I doubt anyone else has come asking for five thousand gold coins besides our squad leader."
"That's true. But under regulation, a betting slip whose seal is gone cannot be used."
The official took a slip from his desk. He pinched the fluttering top edge and pulled, splitting it into two sheets.
"Betting slips are made to divide like this, so that we and the patron each keep one half. And…"
When he brought the two halves together, a faint light in the shape of a sword rose from the paper.
"Authenticity is confirmed only when the two are joined. Without that, I cannot release the gold."
He bowed, looking genuinely sorry.
"Hrm…"
Raon nodded. This much had been expected. The real work started now.
"May I have your name?"
"Kirus, sir."
The official tapped his nameplate and lowered his eyes a fraction.
"You already know our squad leader purchased this slip, Officer Kirus. At that price, you would have confirmed his face, and I've heard plenty of people around him saw him holding it."
"Mm. That's correct."
"Then you acknowledge his identity."
"I do. As I said, if the seal portion can be verified, I can pay out the gold immediately."
Kirus nodded.
Halfway there.
Acknowledging the identity meant there was a real chance.
"I was in the banquet hall until a few moments ago."
"Ah — of course you were."
Kirus nodded, taking in the splendid formalwear and the Black Dragon Robe draped over it.
"Perhaps because of the tournament, the heads of the Six Kings seem to have grown considerably closer."
"I imagine so. I was moved more than once watching the duels myself. In particular, the sight of the White Sword Dragon leaping into the sky mid-match to save the others is something I will never forget."
He bowed again in thanks. Genuine goodwill sat in his gaze.
"Among them, our clan head and His Majesty King Lecross seemed especially close."
"I thought so as well. The two of them spoke a great deal."
Kirus agreed with a small smile.
"Which means that if this matter goes upstairs, word will come down to handle it quietly. And in the end, that money will flow to our squad leader anyway."
"Mm…"
"Even handled quietly, though, noise has a way of leaking. Unpleasant rumors could start."
"That's true enough."
"I was sent from above to erase even that noise."
Raon lifted a finger and pointed at the ceiling.
"I-I see."
At the word above, Kirus tensed and swallowed dryly.
"Above? The one who sent you was that pointy-eared fool, was it not?"
Wrath tilted his head, puzzled.
That's right. But this man is thinking of the Heavenly Sword Squad Leader, or the clan head.
Raon had laid out Glenn and King Lecross before getting to the point, so the faces now occupying Kirus's mind would be Glenn's or Sheryl's. That was the idea.
"You brought up the old man with that far ahead in mind? You vicious…"
Wrath's lips trembled, at a loss for words.
"I would like to resolve this quietly, so that no trouble reaches those above. The money is going to our squad leader in the end, after all."
"B-but without this betting slip…"
Sweat beaded on Kirus's forehead as he pointed at the ticket. Raon was ready for that, too.
"Could I trouble you for a blank slip and a pen?"
"Ah. Here."
Kirus took an unmarked betting slip and a pen from the drawer.
"Mm…"
Raon took the pen and copied every character onto the new slip in Rimer's exact hand. He even crumpled the paper slightly, matching the original's wear.
It was a document-forgery technique he had studied alone in his days as an assassin.
It really does come in handy.
The experience of his previous life continued to serve him well even now.
"Ah…"
Kirus's mouth fell open. He clearly had not imagined such a thing was possible.
"Now you only need to stamp it. Dorian."
Raon held out a hand to Dorian, standing beside him.
"Yessir."
Dorian answered as he always did and drew a white cloth bundle from his belly pouch — one he'd packed with gold coins in advance.
"You must be tired. Please, wet your throat with this."
Raon took the bundle of gold and set it on Kirus's desk. At the clink of coin, Kirus's shoulders jumped.
"Th-this is…"
"A small token of sincerity, so that we may resolve the matter quietly."
Raon smiled and waved it off.
"Nngh…"
Kirus could not tear his trembling eyes from the pouch. As a man who handled this kind of work, he had already read from the sound alone how much was inside.
Raon narrowed his eyes at Kirus's shaking jaw.
It landed perfectly.
The words were gentle. The thing itself was a threat — one that crushed a man with status, reputation, and money all at once.
"Kh…"
Kirus bit down on his lip and lowered the pouch of gold. He took a round seal from the drawer and stamped the slip, then pulled it apart into a patron's copy and a verification copy.
"I-I have confirmed the betting slip."
He set the ticket and the verification slip aside and lowered his eyes a fraction.
"Will you take the gold now?"
"That would be most convenient."
Raon nodded, still mild.
"Understood."
Kirus went to the safe on the right and opened it. He brought out ten pouches of gold coins and set them on the desk. The weight made the wood tremble.
"Five hundred in each pouch."
"Confirmed."
Raon glanced through the pouches one by one and nodded.
"The exchange is complete. I hope you have a pleasant evening."
Kirus had fully accepted the situation; his expression had returned to the one he'd worn when they first met.
"Thank you. Dorian."
"Ah — yes!"
At Raon's call, Dorian packed the gold into his belly pouch with a look that was half vacant.
"Insane. That actually worked?"
Wrath shook his head as if he couldn't believe it either.
"As I said before, I would prefer this passed as if nothing had happened."
"What business did we have, sir? You simply came to cash a ticket, did you not?"
Kirus tilted his head as if nothing at all had occurred. Raon found he rather liked the man.
"So it seems."
Raon nodded and turned. He opened the door and walked out as if the visit had been the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Haaah…"
Only then did Dorian let out a long breath.
"Th-that actually worked?"
"People only see what they want to see, and hear what they want to hear."
Raon huffed a laugh and looked at him.
"When I give you the signal later, take five pouches out of what we received."
"F-five pouches? That's only half…"
"It's fine."
"Uh…"
He led the flustered Dorian out of the finance department.
"R-Raon!"
Rimer, who had been waiting by the garden, stopped pouring liquor down his throat and came running on all fours.
"They said no, didn't they? Those bastards! My money! Kh-hhhk…"
He hurled the empty bottle and clutched his head.
"Yes. Unfortunately…"
"Damn it!"
"I was only able to bring back half."
"Huh? Really?"
Rimer's eyes bulged so wide they looked ready to fall out.
"Dorian."
"Yes…"
Dorian's jaw trembled as he drew five pouches of gold from his belly pouch and set them down.
"H-how did you…"
"I negotiated. If they kept the rest, they could fold it into the royal budget. It wasn't easy, but I managed to salvage half."
"I'll take it! I almost got nothing at all!"
Rimer sniffled, staring at the pouches as if nothing else mattered.
"In exchange, you can't tell anyone about—"
"Of course not! It's only ever you!"
He sprang up and pulled Raon into a hug.
"You're the light and salt of my life, my lantern, my god of fortune! Thank you — truly!"
"It was nothing."
Raon patted Rimer's back, the corner of his mouth curling.
I should be the one thanking you.
You keep offering up gold coins of your own accord. I'm very grateful.
He huffed a laugh and glanced aside. Dorian and Wrath were both shrinking back, their eyes trembling as if they'd seen a ghost.
"Ahh…"
"Th-This King is afraid of you now…"
Leaving Rimer behind in his gold-struck daze, Raon headed for the lodgings with Dorian.
He was about to open the door when a middle-aged man approached from the right.
"Huh?"
Dorian's eyes went round, as if he recognized him.
"I present my respects to the White Sword Dragon."
The middle-aged man bowed with careful courtesy.
"I am Tetkal of the Yeonam Merchant Group."
"Ah. Raon Zieghart."
Raon returned the greeting, though he had no idea who the man was.
"Forgive me, but might I borrow this young man for a moment?"
Tetkal indicated Dorian. From the way the two of them reacted, they clearly knew each other from before.
"Ah — he's a friend of my father's."
"Ah."
"I'll just speak with him a moment and come right back."
"Go ahead."
Raon nodded, and Dorian and Tetkal stepped into the garden beside the lodgings.
A short while later, Tetkal left first. Dorian came walking out of the garden well after, his steps drained of all strength.
"Hrm…"
Raon clicked his tongue. It wasn't only Dorian's gait. His face was darker than usual, too.
"What happened?"
"It's nothing…"
Dorian waved it off, insisting it was no great matter.
"That's not a 'nothing' face."
"Ugh…"
Dorian scrubbed at his belly pouch. It was the thing he did when he was anxious.
"Well, if it's a secret, there's nothing I can do about it."
"That's…"
Dorian hesitated, then lifted his head.
"He passed along word that my father wants me to stop by the guild…"
"You said you came from a merchant family."
Dorian had mentioned in passing that he was from a merchant guild in the southwest.
A merchant guild, huh…
This could work.
Raon clicked his tongue thoughtfully. He'd been turning over how to reach the Undersea Dungeon in House Robert's territory. Using the excuse of escorting Dorian home might be exactly the opening he needed.
It's more than possible.
As a vice-leader taking a cherished squad member home, the reason would land with Rimer — and with the clan head as well.
"Then we'll go."
Raon nodded with a faint smile.
"You didn't even go home when you were kidnapped, so we might as well stop by while we're out this way. I'll handle things with the higher-ups."
"Yessir…"
Dorian nodded as if he hated it but had no choice.
There's something going on, then.
Raon had assumed Dorian simply couldn't be bothered before. Looking at his face now, there was clearly more to it.
"Your surname was Aipes, right?"
He ran through the merchant houses and guilds he knew under that name and came up with nothing. As he'd thought before, it must have been a fairly small concern.
"I-I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now, but that's a fake…"
Dorian slowly shook his head.
"My real surname isn't Aipes. It's the reverse — Sepia…"
"Sepia?"
Raon murmured the name, then his eyes flew wide.
"The Sepia Merchant Guild?"
"You knew of it?"
"What kind of question is that!"
Sepia was one of the Five Great Merchant Guilds of the continent — a colossal organization with branches not only in the southwest, but across the entire land.
"You…"
Raon's voice softened for the first time.
"You were a young master?"