I urged Makio to reply. "I asked if it was possible."
“Haha, you do like to joke, don’t you?” Makio managed, forcing a laugh.
“I’m just the manager of this casino. How could I possibly hand over a trade route?”
“I know you’ve become the owner of the Miph Merchant Guild.”
“…Pardon?”
“You seem to think the House Berg’s intelligence network is a laughing matter.” I let out a short, derisive snort.
To be honest, I had no idea who the man in front of me actually was.
In my previous life, the Miph Trademaster had been a fat man I’d killed myself—and even he was so insignificant that I could barely remember him.
At first, I didn’t even know who he was. So how could I possibly recognize the real owner of a casino I’d never set foot in?
The only reason I even knew the name Makio was because I’d gotten stuck looking after that delinquent Martin.
So how did I figure out Makio was the new boss of the Miph Merchant Guild?
That was thanks to Lexa, the branch chief in Al Portia.
Before coming to the Miphra Territory, I’d told Lexa to send me any and all information related to the Miph Merchant Guild.
Who was currently leading the guild, how far my own information had spread—everything, really.
Luckily, over the course of six days, Lexa sent it all, and I’d been using that to pull the wool over Makio’s eyes.
Good thing I managed to keep my murder of the Trademaster under wraps.
At present, none of them knew who’d killed the previous Trademaster. In fact, they didn’t even want to know.
Which made sense—after all, thanks to that, someone else got promoted. Why go digging up trouble?
And that was why no one knew who I was.
Lexa’s tight grip on information, paired with their total lack of curiosity, had created a culprit no one could name.
If they’d known it was me, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.
Anyway…
I gazed at Makio, who now wore the expression of a man caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and spoke again. “So, are the negotiations off?”
“…Haha.”
Makio chuckled speechlessly.
For a fleeting moment, his eyes flicked toward the knight, as if wondering whether it might be worth silencing me permanently right here.
But, realizing that was hardly likely to even work, Makio exhaled a heavy sigh and finally gave an answer. “So, all that up until now was just an act, was it?”
“Well, I was just relieving some stress while I was at it.”
“Thanks to that, our casino nearly went belly-up.” Makio clicked his tongue, and the smile vanished from his face.
He turned his head and ordered the trembling bartender to bring some liquor.
“Hey, bring a gin straight over here.”
“My, going for the strong stuff? Must be a rough patch.”
“Yes, someone’s been getting on my nerves lately,” Makio retorted.
Soon enough, the bartender brought out the drinks.
Makio tossed his back in one go, letting out a breathy “phuh” as it went down, then spoke.
“I’ll give it to you.”
“A splendid decision.”
“But we have some conditions.” Makio’s eyes flashed coldly. “First, you’re never to set foot in our casino again.”
“You have my promise.”
“Second, you’ll take any trade route except the one to the Imperial Capital.”
“Hm… That’s a bit disappointing, but I’ll accept.”
“And finally…” Makio paused, still maintaining that chilly glare. “You’ll leave the Miphra Territory immediately. Those are the three conditions. Do you accept?”
“You certainly ask for a lot. Anyone would think you held all the cards.” I let out a short, amused snort.
Trying to act like they were the ones granting favors, when they were the ones who had to beg?
“I refuse the last condition.”
“Then the deal’s off—”
“In exchange, I’ll just take a single trade route.”
Makio flinched, then said slowly, “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. I’m always one hundred percent sincere.”
And I meant it.
From the very beginning, there was only one trade route I’d ever wanted.
Not the trade route leading to the Imperial Capital—far from it. I meant the one that wound its way to a remote barony, far from the capital’s reach.
At present, this trade route was worth about as much as a sandcastle at low tide.
Though well, that’s only true for now.
But I knew exactly what kind of treasure would one day be unearthed there—Mithril.
A mine packed to the rafters with Mithril—the so-called “divine ore”—was buried in that very territory.
Give it ten years or so, and the whole continent would be buzzing about it.
Not that I intend to wait that long.
I shrugged, running through my plans for the future.
Waiting around would be the sort of time-wasting only a philosopher could love. As soon as I wrapped up my business here, I’d be off to take care of things there.
Having settled on my next destination, I glanced at Makio.
I could always reconsider the destination later. For now, what mattered was that the only real gateway to that far-flung barony at the edge of the Empire belonged to the Miph Merchant Guild.
Sure, there were other ways in—if you fancied a hike through dragon-infested mountains or a brisk stroll across enemy lines.
Which is why I absolutely must secure this route. The contract only holds water if it’s signed before the Miph Merchant Guild goes under.
Whether the guild went bankrupt or got swallowed up, there was no guarantee the trade route would end up in my hands.
Worse yet, if it was absorbed, the route would just become the property of House Praha.
If I wanted to have any real sway in Praha, I needed a safety net.
And this will be that net.
Smiling, I pulled a blank slip of paper from my coat. A note, just about the size of my palm.
I handed it to Makio and said, “Write this down, exactly as I say it: The trade route to the Barony of Harris is hereby transferred to me, Louis Berg.”
“…The Barony of Harris?” Makio frowned, as if he’d heard the name for the first time.
Apparently, it wasn’t a trade route anyone bothered to remember.
Still, a promise was a promise. There was no way—and no real reason—to refuse.
Makio shot me a look so suspicious you’d think I’d hidden an extra ace up my sleeve, but I simply offered him a tiny smile.
Then at last…
“…I have no idea what’s going on anymore.”
With a weak sigh, Makio began writing the contract on the slip of paper.
Bit by bit, the contract took shape on the note. Once it was finished, I took it and tucked it into my coat.
“It’s got the Imperial Family’s seal, so the contract is unbreakable.”
“…Just make sure you keep your promise, Young Master.”
“Of course.” I let out a short laugh and got to my feet.
But then, as if I’d just remembered something I’d left unfinished, I turned to Makio’s knight.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
I hooked my foot around the knight’s leg and toppled him, sending him rolling across the floor in a most undignified fashion.
He glared up at me, eyes narrowed to slits.
Smirking, I pressed his face firmly to the ground, explaining, “This is how you subdue someone. Looked like you didn’t know earlier, so I thought I’d show you.”
“…”
“And you might want to tone down that glare. It never ends well when someone without the skills tries to act tough.”
I let go of the knight and stood up.
Then, turning to Makio—whose face had twisted in displeasure—I added, “Hope you learned something.”
* * *
Once the commotion had died down…
Makio, nerves frayed, stared daggers at the spot where Louis Berg had vanished, then lashed out by slapping the bartender across the cheek.
“You just hand it over because someone asks?!”
“S-sorry, sir!”
The bartender had only done as he was told, but that was beside the point for Makio.
What mattered to him was having something—anything—to vent his frustration on.
“Hah—! Hah—!” Makio ran a hand through his bangs, breathing hard.
He was irritated at having his own knight mocked, but the truth was, the deal had gone well.
After all, the lunatic had won one hundred and fifty million gold in just six days.
If he’d let things go on, he might’ve watched billions just up and vanish.
And yet, he’d managed to stop a maniac like that with nothing but a measly trade route out in the sticks.
If the other casino operators had seen it, they’d have given Makio a standing ovation.
Granted, there was definitely something underhanded about the whole business, but that was just Louis’s own scheming. Let him stew in it.
No matter how Makio sliced it, the Harris domain wasn’t exactly a fountain of gold. That wastrel probably heard some rumor floating around and jumped at it like a cat at a dangling string.
“Hah… What a pain, getting tangled up with a retard like that,” Makio muttered, trying to steady his nerves.
To be perfectly honest, he could’ve ended things without even giving up the trade route.
Makio had connections to House Artezia, and the youngest of their direct bloodline was right here, currently working his way through the local liquor supply.
If he asked, the Berg County runt could’ve been dealt with, no questions asked.
But he didn’t want to go down that road. If it came to begging that damned brat for help, Makio preferred to just hand over the trade route and be done with it.
Odds were, he would’ve ended up paying even more just to get rid of him.
Anyway, I’ve still got enough left to send to the family. It’s tight, but I’ll scrape by this month.
Of course, that meant Makio’s own share would be whittled down to almost nothing, but he could just grit his teeth and let it slide.
“…As long as I get my hands on that. Just that.”
Makio’s eyes flashed with a hungry glint as he muttered to himself.
If he could just get his hands on the item rumored to be up for auction at the black market tomorrow, everything would finally fall back into place.
His status, his role as the Artezia brat’s glorified nanny—everything would be finished, once and for all.
Makio’s eyes began to gleam with greed.
And so, the next day dawned.
* * *
As soon as the sun rose, Lancelot greeted me by making my bed.
“Are you awake, sir?”
“…What are you doing?” I squinted at him, still half-asleep.
Lancelot, making my bed?
This had to be a dream.
But Lancelot, as if to prove he was no mere figment of my imagination, brewed a glass of iced tea and handed it to me.
“Here you are, sir. Drink up.”
“…This is actually terrifying.”
I took the iced tea from Lancelot, wearing a suspicious look. The cold seeped into my fingertips.
With a pause, I asked, “You didn’t spike this with anything, did you?”
“Would I ever do such a thing, sir?”
“…Frankly, the odds are high.”
I stared intently at the iced tea, then finally took a sip.
Gulp. Just ordinary iced tea.
Apparently, nothing out of the ordinary.
“…Hah.” Still tense, I set the glass down on the bedside shelf. “So, care to explain why you’re acting like this at the crack of dawn?”
“I’ve always been this gentlemanly, sir.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You’re going to make me puke.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. Lancelot, perhaps feeling a pang of guilt, cleared his throat loudly.
Shooting me a furtive glance, he spoke up in a cautious voice. “So, um… there’s this spear I’ve had my eye on, but it’s a bit expensive, you see.”
Ah, so that was it.
I let out a faint sigh and nodded. “I’ll buy it for you, so cut out this damned nonsense. It’s far too early in the morning for me to suffer through it.”
“Really?!”
“Yes.”
“Alright!” Lancelot jumped in place, cheering.
Honestly… the fellow was nothing if not consistent.
I got out of bed, shaking my head.
When I looked around, everyone else was staring at me with the same look—each one clearly wanting something, too.
“…I’ll get you all what you want, but at least go wash up first.”
I promised the others I’d buy them what they wanted as well, then headed into the bathroom.
Today was Day 7—the day the black market opened.