Chapter 54: Barriers to Entry
Marhal read the official notice over and over again. In summary, it said this:
Unqualified people were participating in the Land Race and dying in droves. This was hindering the development of the entire West, where manpower was already scarce. Therefore, participation in the Land Race would be restricted. Only those registered with the Union could take part.
"The idea that anyone could claim land was what drew people to the West in the first place. If they kill off that motivation, what's the point?"
"It's idiotic. Or maybe it means they're desperate for cash."
"That could be it."
Registration would probably just involve writing down a name and handing out a proof token like a mercenary badge. Names could be faked, and tokens stolen. So what benefit did the Union gain from the process? Money. Fees for listing names on the roster, fees for issuing proof tokens. Illegal brokers would pop up, along with sellers of counterfeit tokens. Brokering might be outlawed, but they'd somehow slip past the Union's oversight. The fakes would pass as real.
In short, the Union had created a new market. One that generated massive profits without a single tangible product.
"It's a groundbreaking scam. Bill trading wouldn't fly like this without drawing swords, but the Union pigs are getting fat off land deals with it."
"True enough. Any word on the participation restrictions?"
"It was announced out of the blue this morning. Tsk. After all the money I've slipped those Union bastards."
The Union was a supranational organization. You weren't a real merchant if you didn't grease palms with a group that wielded more power in the West than even the Empire.
Azenman Riantl had connections in the Union too, but even they were useless this time.
"That's how we know. It was pushed through secretly and urgently from the top. The storm a few days ago probably played a role too."
Azenman's gaze turned to Marhal.
The dark clouds and the history-laden Reverse Heaven Giant, plus the fog it spewed that blocked visibility—it had been impossible to observe details. But people near the Border had witnessed the sudden storm clouds splitting the sky and the giant emerging beneath them.
"The heavens split open."
With Azenman's talents, he could calculate from his seat that the clouds had formed almost exactly where the carriage ambush was planned. Half-baked lies would only breed suspicion. If lying, it had to be a grand one—boastful enough for anyone to nod along.
"Turns out the Hero really isn't human."
"You saw the Hero?! Where'd he go? Where's the Hero?!"
Azenman shot up from his chair.
"I only caught a blurry shadow. How many people could actually spot a man who crushes an army without a scratch when he tries to vanish?"
"Right. Yeah..."
Azenman righted his toppled chair and sat back down. Aside from the times he'd groveled at Marhal's feet, this was the first time Marhal had seen him so worked up.
"Got business with the Hero?"
"Sure do. No commoner doesn't dream of seeing the Hero. I'm no exception. If you spot him, tell him there's someone dying to meet him."
"That it is."
As Marhal turned to leave the study, Azenman called after him.
"You know about the landlords' gathering, right? Sending a proxy again?"
"Unless something comes up."
"Better come yourself. The sly foxes are showing up in person."
"Those guys? Might have to think it over seriously. Oh, and you must be hurting for cash, but you're not mad about the failed ambush?"
It could have wrecked his entire business. Marhal's image of the petty Azenman was one who'd be tearing his hair out and rolling on the floor. But there wasn't a trace of regret on his face now.
"Something good came up. More than covers the loss."
"Give me a heads-up too."
"Like hell. Get out. I'm busy."
"If the homeowner says go, I go. Oh, I'll grab a few outfits on the way. This cool between us, right?"
"What 'us'?"
"Want to settle our debts proper?"
"Take 'em! Take 'em! A man's too damn stingy!"
"Not words I'd expect from you."
The book Azenman hurled smacked the wall. Marhal stepped out of Azenman's study. He knew the layout of the house well enough. Changing into fresh clothes in the nearby wardrobe, he pondered.
Something's up.
The damage Azenman had taken wasn't light. He'd have sensed the op's failure from storm rumors alone. A schemer like him, always planning for the worst, would have another scheme ready the moment it failed. But Azenman showed no urgency. He had something to offset both capital and manpower losses—something even Marhal couldn't guess.
As he emerged in new attire, a ghostly butler awaited him.
"Your companions have bathed and are waiting. Shall I prepare separate bathwater?"
"Just a soft cloth to dust off."
"Understood."
"Oh, by the way. Any new faces in the mansion lately?"
"None."
Mages, Heroes, saints, thieves—they were all people who'd spent lifetimes under scrutiny. Marhal had learned their arts. Spotting lies was a specialty he trusted. Especially with yes-or-no questions; he rarely missed.
The butler had just lied.
A guest, then.
Azenman's "good lead" was probably tied to that guest.
* * *
Not long after Marhal left, a bookshelf in Azenman's study slid aside. A man emerged from the revealed space.
It was Night Dew.
"You wanted to see me talk with Marhal, so I showed you my secret weapon. How'd you like eavesdropping on two men's private chat?"
"Fascinating. A man you truly can't drop your guard around."
"Time to answer. Why does a guy tied to the Empire want to work under me?"
As Marhal had guessed, Azenman's "good lead" was this man, Night Dew. He'd approached Azenman the day before Marhal arrived, offering to serve him.
The plan had failed. Bill maturities loomed. If there was money to be made anywhere—even a fire pit—Azenman had to jump in. He couldn't refuse Night Dew's proposal.
Future-sight magic. It had endless uses, but none better than business. In fact, he'd already used Night Dew's advice that morning to cover the warehouse fire loss and turn a profit.
"Do you like the Empire, Excellency?"
"Hate the bastards. Despise 'em. No Duchy trader in the West likes the Empire."
"I've come to hate it too. I want to hit 'em hard, and while looking around, you came to mind. So I decided to work for you."
"More trustworthy than surface talk. As long as I'm at war with the Empire, your betrayal odds stay low."
"Something like that."
No telling how long a mage's whims would last, but even months with Night Dew meant insane gains for Azenman. With luck, he could topple an Empire pillar.
"Good. Great. But hey—did the Hero really show that day?"
"What do you take the Hero for, Excellency?"
"People's hope. The world's savior."
"The Hero appeared."
If the Hero was one who averted disaster and brought hope, then yes—that day, without doubt, a Hero had been there. Another Hero inheriting the previous one's history.
"What was he like? You only see his shadow too?"
"Too bright—couldn't make out his form."
"Yeah... fitting for a Hero. Shame. Over ten years hunting, and still no dice..."
Azenman smacked his lips.
* * *
The innkeeper Marhal had rented from hadn't totally lost his mind. Karian and Astal Bergias were still holding down the fort unscathed.
That didn't erase his crime of deceiving Marhal. The inn sat empty of guests, and scrappers were already picking it apart piece by piece. This had all gone down during the brief rest at Azenman's mansion.
Bayola was stunned by the speed.
"This fast?"
"We screwed over the landowner here. Like scamming a lord in another country."
"Landlord...? No way?"
Bayola's eyes widened. Marin and Strekl shot Marhal equally shocked looks.
"Didn't I mention? I own half this city's stake."
"......"
"Why do you think Hugo's here."
"Thought he was managing businesses."
"Land ventures are business too. Right, Hugo?"
"Indeed."
Strekl took in the city's scale anew. Logistics from the East funneled through the Border to the West. A few Border cities rivaled any in the Duchy. By money flow alone, they outpaced the war-ravaged Duchy towns.
This city was no different. Half of it? Nobility without the title. Top-tier Duchy aristocrat.
He'd known Marhal was rich, but "Border lord" exceeded imagination.
"Why the faces? Marin, your mouth's open."
"Guh!"
Marin clamped her jaw. Strekl cleared his throat; Bayola pretended to admire a building. They all thought the same: Marhal was loaded, but a city boss? Hero Party guide and city lord didn't mesh.
"Right, Hugo. Where's this landlords' gathering?"
"The Small Empire. Will you go in person?"
"Probably best. Marin, coming along?"
"Landlords' gathering...?"
"Landlords partying together. No harm showing face."
"Not dangerous?"
Landlords preferred anonymity. Unlike nobles with constant guards, in the superhuman-heavy West, escorts didn't guarantee safety from assassins.
Even Azenman, whom Marhal met casually, had been a ghost during Marin's Border stay—rumors said fewer than ten knew his face.
"Not just anyone. Only qualified invites. People ready to go down together if someone backstabs."
They knew each other's forces and moves. If betrayed, they had the power for mutual destruction. Confidence like that. Only West landlords with real clout showed up.
"Can I even go?"
"One rule matters: If he betrays me, can I hunt him to world's end? You confident, Marin?"
"Yeah. Totally."
Marin's eyes flashed. Grudges with grudges. Her specialty. A woman surviving streets alone needed that venom.
"Good. Hugo, prep a carriage. Ask Karian while you're at it."
"Master, invites are one per person."
"One per landmass."
"Ah, so?"
"Others know. They keep quiet to hide their holdings. Strekl—think seriously on my offer."
"Got it."
Bring his Duchy family West? Marhal would handle logistics; Strekl just chose. But it wasn't easy.
* * *
The Small Empire lay half a day's ride from Marhal's city in a top-grade carriage pulled by superb steeds. Count Lugen, its lord, owned several villas. This landlords' gathering was at one.
Outside the Small Empire's walls, nestled in mountains, the villa hosted a dozen carriages. The sort you'd yield to instantly on sight.
"Union's doing? More people than usual."
"Said just follow, but this okay?"
Karian, suddenly anxious, eyed the ornate carriages meekly.
"All the same folk—no worries. Soon they might bow to you."
"These big shots?"
He'd never met the owners, but sans Marhal, he'd seen plenty in the Border. Ena's lessons helped; now he gauged wealth and status from carriages alone.
"Warehouses are gold. As city rebuilds and new Land Race lands develop, bookings'll backlog years."
Marhal's Pioneer Village would benefit too.
Marhal entered the villa. True to ex-Empire nobility, Lugen had decked it lavishly. Not random baubles—each held its own history.
In the hall, besides Marhal scrutinizing decor, another did too.
"Marina Silanatiell? Didn't expect a Union surveyor here."
Marina Silanatiell. Mage bearing the Silanatiell name.