Chapter 28 - Edwin D. Hacid
The Confederation of Malice.
The five council members.
Out of the 26 districts, only one person managed one additional district.
That council member naturally had to possess a stronger influence than the others, and was such a person from the beginning.
It was even rumored that the council member managing the 6 districts was, in fact, the next chairman.
The manager of the 6 districts, Councilor Hinek, rubbed his brow.
It was because of the new Stationmaster who had recently arrived.
“Haa…. It hasn't been that long since Jubel Maxman set up shop in the Citadel, and a Stationmaster has already been replaced.”
The honorable nickname of the East's greatest merchant was no different from the East's greatest robber in his eyes.
“A guy who never made any special deals with the Citadel suddenly set up a defense agency, stuck a warehouse and a workshop inside it. And then changed the Stationmaster.”
The influence he gained while recently fending off the Balum family's offensive was by no means small.
With that much power, replacing a single Stationmaster was an easy task.
The problem was that the replaced Stationmaster had been his subordinate.
From his perspective, it was as if a chick he had been raising well was snatched away by an owl that flew down from the sky.
“For that fiend, this is just the beginning.”
In just one more day, a social event to congratulate the new Stationmaster would be held.
Though they were the nobles of the back alleys, nobles were nobles.
The council members who made up the underworld and their families would gather under the pretext of the Stationmaster’s badge conferment ceremony and engage in betrayals and alliances.
But this time, for the first time in a long while, everyone had the same thought.
“That new D-District Stationmaster… his name was Edwin Hacid, right.”
A background check revealed an unremarkable background, and his innate sorcerous talent wasn’t that outstanding either.
Of course, this was from a council member’s perspective.
Among ordinary people he was dazzling, but among the stars he was just so-so.
“A fellow who would have taken at least 20 years to become a Stationmaster even with luck on his side, did it this quickly…. I can’t just let this slide.”
All the council members thought so.
This Stationmaster's Badge Conferment Ceremony was not just a conferment ceremony.
It was a hazing ritual, and perhaps even a day that could become an execution block.
“In any case, Jubel Maxman must have picked someone at random to test his own power.”
As proof of that, there was currently no connection between Edwin and Jubel.
And yet, he had brazenly come to him and voiced his opinion to make Edwin Hacid the Stationmaster.
In this place where a merchant's wealth was equivalent to military power, it was no different from a threat.
He could still see that face, but after actually appointing him, he did nothing.
There were no repercussions.
“Hoo…”
As he was soothing his anger with whiskey in an iced glass.
Someone knocked on the door.
It was a person with a scheduled appointment.
“Come in.”
At his permission, the person who turned the doorknob and appeared simultaneously carried a deep scent of grass.
It was similar to the smell that vibrated from Jubel Maxman’s workshop.
The difference was that the scent from him was a little more pungent.
It was a very faint sense of poison.
“Have a seat. Chairman of the Physicians’ Council.”
He threw back his hood.
The man with seaweed-green hair grown to his shoulders smiled as he smelled the aroma of alcohol that filled the room.
“You seem to be going through a lot. Enjoying a drink at this late hour.”
“Aren’t you and I both being swayed by some peddler recently? The reason is similar.”
“Haha. How could I possibly face the same difficulties as you, Councilor? If I did, I would have returned to dust by now.”
Hinek laughed with satisfaction, so much that his breath smelled of alcohol.
“You certainly have a way with words. Is it because you're a medicine peddler? A truly natural talent.”
“You praise me too much.”
“Anyway, Chairman of the Physicians’ Council. As you said, I put pressure on the surrounding cities and villages to create a business for the Physicians' Council.”
“I’ve heard the news. Thanks to you, Councilor, that peddler’s goods have become worth less than an apple abandoned on the street.”
“Hahahaha. How could that be my achievement? It’s thanks to your clever thinking.”
The two did not stop gilding each other with praise, and their laughter did not cease.
But just as one cannot live laughing forever.
A serious conversation followed as naturally as pouring whiskey into an iced glass.
“How is the potion business these days? Is it still difficult to catch up to the Wisdom of the West?”
“…Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well, of course. They strictly regulate exports, and they don’t show a single line of writing when it comes to knowledge. Anyway, those greedy bastards.”
That’s why they couldn’t make money, but the pure mages didn’t care.
Because their source of income was not in potions.
So the Physicians' Council, fascinated by the mysterious restorative power and effects of potions, had no choice but to rely on self-study.
Even Millesdusk was only interested in sorcery.
Excluding the West, the home of potions, the only place that handled them was the Physicians' Council in the East.
“It's just that they don't understand our desire to have as few sick and ailing people as possible. This is also something I must bear, so please lead the Citadel well, Councilor.”
“Chairman of the Physicians’ Council…”
It was the Chairman of the Council who led the Citadel, but at this moment, his emotions surged.
He grabbed his sleeve instead of the whiskey glass.
“Is there anything else I can help you with.”
“I’ve done some personal legwork, and it seems Jubel Maxman and the Fifth Son of Millesdusk have made some kind of contract. The contract is probably for ‘that’ item.”
“…Millesdusk?”
At that single word, the councilor’s hand, which looked like it would buy a house for him, moved a hand’s breadth away.
The Chairman of the Physicians’ Council smiled and added.
“The Fifth Son of Millesddusk is a weakling who can’t even compete because he was born much later than his other siblings. This time, it’s a desperate struggle.”
“So, through a contract with Jubel Maxman, the Fifth Son of Millesdusk is preparing to make a leap. Is that how I should take it?”
“It seems so. So if you, Councilor, were to thwart this leap and report it to the kin to take credit, what kind of future would unfold?”
“Ohh…”
Even though he had only spoken, a future where he received a fortune from the Millesdusk kin was painted in his mind.
Moreover, if he reported it to the kin he served, they would be even more delighted.
“For that future, please lend me a little more of your strength.”
“What do you want.”
The hand that had moved away drew closer in an instant.
“After investigating their product, the Vaccine, I found that its main ingredients were nothing special.”
In fact, thanks to them disposing of the dead-stock Soul Powder, the material cost was almost nothing.
It was the cheapest of the cheap, a world apart from potions made by boiling and drying expensive and rare ingredients.
“Even if they make it in the Citadel, we can just stop them from exporting it. Issue a no-fly order for their airship.”
“Isn't there no justification for that?”
“Are you aware of the grotesque rumors circulating in the Citadel recently?”
Hinek clapped his hands without realizing it.
“…The Griffin! The number of fools spouting nonsense about seeing a Griffin has been increasing lately. Really, what an absurd thing.”
“Yes. But that nonsense will be what ensnares him.”
The Chairman of the Physicians’ Council continued with a smile.
“There are concerns that a Griffin might attack the airship, causing it to crash into the Citadel. So, until the Griffin is hunted, flights are prohibited. You can just say it like that.”
The corners of his mouth turned up noticeably.
It was the same for Hinek, who wanted to screw Jubel over one way or another.
“Your head is truly a pouch of wisdom. How could you think of such a thing!”
“You praise me too much. Well then, I shall.”
“Yes, yes. Go on in. I’m scheduled to be busy tomorrow, having to stomp on some brat.”
Councilor Hinek ground his teeth.
***
Edwin Hacid. 37 years old.
Until recently, he was the Branch Manager of D-District’s 3rd division, but he suddenly became the Stationmaster of D-District.
People called him a man of miracles.
A man chosen by the money-devil, they chattered.
But he had a more famous moniker.
Edwin D. Hacid.
The man born in D-District who became the king of D-District.
An ordinary name for a king is an insult.
Adding the district’s name as a middle name, people called him this.
“Edwin D. Hacid. You’ve got a cool name.”
The Youngest Son couldn't hold back his laughter from the moment he heard that name.
He didn't know why.
Was it that strange?
Edwin would never know the reason until the day he died, but he didn't need to.
Because today, a badge conferment ceremony far more important than some stupid middle name was scheduled.
“The conferment ceremony will be held in the Pandemonium Hall, where the Citadel’s important institutions are gathered.”
Pandemonium Hall. That name, too, was taken from Millesdusk's Pantheon.
The Youngest Son nodded and looked him up and down.
“You're dressed rather plainly for a Stationmaster.”
Though expressed quite formally, it just meant he looked cheap.
“It's not like Edwin D. Hacid.”
“…What on earth is being ‘like Edwin D. Hacid’?”
Well. For some reason, it felt like he should know the location of a great treasure, but there was no need for that now.
“Let’s do something about that outfit first. I've arranged for an escort, and they’ll be arriving soon.”
“An es-escort?”
“Were you planning to go in just that one basic carriage? We can't do that, it's a loss of face. It's not like Edwin D. Hacid.”
The carriage itself was a luxury, but where we were going, something like this was worse than a garbage bag.
“Ah, I understand. I get it, so please stop calling my name.”
“Name? Have you acknowledged that your name is Edwin ‘D.’ Hacid?”
“If you'll stop saying it once I acknowledge it, I’ll just live like that.”
“Good. I like it.”
A companion of the next Family Head should be at least of the D. clan.
And to change the commoner Edwin Hacid into Edwin D. Hacid, I invited an expert.
“Actually, knowing you would be like this, I called someone over.”
“Greetings. I am Mirea Rara, the Fifth Son’s Head Maid.”
“Head Maid. Report on D’s problems.”
“First of all.”
Even though the Head Maid had been looking down at the floor since a while ago, she spoke without hesitation.
“The overall attire is a problem from the start. Are you perhaps going to a funeral? It is exceedingly dark and drab. The shoes are also a problem. They are too wrinkled from being worn too much.”
“Is that so.”
“I haven't even mentioned a tenth of the overall problems yet, but I am worried about soiling the Young Son's ears.”
It seemed D’s ears were being soiled more severely than the Youngest Son’s, but he couldn't say anything.
Because he had experienced firsthand several times that no matter what he said, the situation would not change.
The Youngest Son crossed his arms and said.
“Anyway, the settlement from the Vaccines sold in the provinces is too much for me to use personally, and there’s also a budget for maintaining dignity, so there's no need to worry about money.”
Which meant.
“Edwin D. Hacid. Be reborn as a model Stationmaster.”
“Yes…?”
“Head Maid.”
“I will be back shortly.”
The Head Maid grabbed Edwin’s arm and dragged him off somewhere.
Her strength was so great that even he, a sorcerer, couldn’t resist.
How much time had passed?
The Youngest Son had changed what D would be riding in.
The Maxman Merchant Troupe helped with that.
Marvin, who had just arrived, pointed to the ultra-luxurious, troupe-master-exclusive carriage he had brought here.
“This is the one.”
“It’s good.”
From its four wheels to its size.
It was hard to believe it was meant for just one person.
Furthermore, the ivory body, gold-plated wheels, and the brass carvings around it lent an elegance to the carriage.
It was truly a pirate ship, no, a carriage fit for D.
Marvin smiled contentedly and tapped the wheels.
“Isn’t it? It was the first luxury item the Troupe Master bought after becoming a great merchant, but he has never ridden it. He might have even forgotten about it.”
“We’ll have to drive it carefully.”
“Just smash it up while you ride. It’s a pain to move it by ship again. Hah.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marvin felt a twinge of anxiety somewhere but tried to push it away.
Because he had to turn his attention to the urgent news that came in almost daily.
He sent his subordinate beside him away and bowed his head.
“It seems another issue has come up. I’ll be on my way first.”
“Go ahead.”
As the merchant troupe diligently departed by ship, others soon filled the empty space.
It was the escort, a section that showed just how much nobles valued their own lives.
“Hunter.”
“Red Wolf. As you said, I’ve brought The Fangs.”
“Their attire looks suitably knight-like. Good.”
The ten Fangs gathered here would stand by the carriage and enhance D’s prestige.
These Werewolves exuded the aura of predators just by their mere presence.
But I hadn't heard about the wolf-related matter, the one fidgeting behind Remus.
“Why did you bring that child?”
“Things are a bit busy on this side because of the Black Wolf Brigade’s disbandment. So I brought my daughter as the field commander.”
“Ah, he…llo.”
She greeted awkwardly from behind her father, like a child in front of an unfamiliar adult.
It was Cailin, who had been possessed by an evil spirit.
The Youngest Son stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s unlikely the Werewolves will have to step up.”
“I’m counting on you. Now, Cailin. Say your greetings. He is the savior of your life.”
Cailin, mustering a little more courage this time, came forward.
She fidgeted with her hands, couldn’t keep her feet still, and couldn’t meet my eyes.
Her mouth moved mumblingly in that state.
“I-I’m sorry about that time. Thank you for saving me.”
“Speak comfortably. I’m not old enough to be spoken to with honorifics by a Werewolf.”
“I-if that’s the case…”
Cailin’s expression brightened a little.
“I’ll be on my way now, Red Wolf.”
“Call me Young Son.”
Remus disappeared with a smile.
The Head Maid hadn't arrived yet.
What should I do to kill time until then?
The Youngest Son's eyes turned to the puppy, the wolf, who was looking down beside him.
“Hey. Cailin. The person who will be riding in this carriage. Don’t you think he’s going to be a very amazing person?”
“Uh-huh. Definitely.”
“The man we have to escort today, the king of this place, Edwin D. Hacid, I heard he beat a lion to death when he was three years old.”
“R-really…?”
And so, the legend of D was born.