Chapter 60

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Ricard knew he did not belong here, and that people were looking down on him.

An ordinary person might have wilted under those chilly stares, but he felt nothing of the sort. He was neither intimidated nor resentful. They all looked so frail.

His only thought was, 'I won't be staying here long.'

Marie was not intimidated either, though for somewhat different reasons.

She had spent her entire life training in a family of swordsmen, treated as a bastard. Then one day, she had suddenly been informed that she had been formally acknowledged and ordered to enroll at the academy.

She had gone from bastard to imperial princess overnight. Yet little had changed. She had merely received the news; she had never once met her father, the emperor.

That was why she loathed people who flaunted their birth, wealth, or position. She could sense that attitude in the looks these people gave them, and it disgusted her.

Ricard merely swept his gaze over the people his own age, while Marie stood tall and returned their disdainful looks in kind.

Perhaps sensing something unusual in the pair's bearing and attitude, the onlookers slowly began to regard them differently.

On closer inspection, Ricard possessed a boyish charm that combined gentleness with strength, while Marie's beauty was simply overwhelming. Her face alone seemed to put all their expensive clothes and jewelry to shame.

It almost seemed as though the warm, reddish candlelight had been lit solely for the boy and girl.

Intending to look around the banquet hall, Ricard took Marie's hand and walked on. Everyone's eyes followed them.

Their naturally assured strides conveyed an unmistakable dignity. Gradually, the contemptuous looks faded, giving way to curiosity and a quiet envy.

But there was spite and jealousy among them as well. Who did those two think they were? Weren't they just penniless beggars? Why were they showing off?

At any gathering, there was always a group that held sway, and within that group, someone who played the leading role.

A group of young men and women sat before the fireplace. One girl among them, dressed in a deep pink gown adorned with pearls, rose with a fan in her hand and approached Ricard and Marie.

"Hello."

Ricard looked up from the exotic dishes he had been examining on the table. The girl was pretty, but one corner of her mouth curled upward in a faint sneer.

"Hello."

"Is this your first gathering of the Rising Stars?"

"Rising Stars?"

"Yes. This is a gathering exclusively for the children of Ehrenberg's influential families. Surely 'Rising Stars' is a fitting name."

"I don't know. It sounds a little childish."

"Pardon?"

One of the girl's eyebrows twitched as she wondered whether she had misheard.

Rather irrelevantly, Ricard thought it remarkably efficient of her to move her facial muscles one at a time, whether an eyebrow or a corner of her mouth.

"Forgive me, young sir, but might I have your name?"

"Riki. And yours, my lady?"

"I am Regina. Those close to me call me 'Sweet Reggie.' Should we become close, I might grant you the honor of calling me Reggie as well."

Huh? What honor? What was she talking about? For a moment, Ricard was dumbfounded.

Regina was not a name of the traditional nobility. The name alone suggested a merchant family or something of that sort.

They were nobles too, in a sense, but in this age a clear distinction separated them from the traditional, titled nobility.

Still, he had not come here to debate social standing, so he paid it no mind and continued the conversation.

"Are banquets usually this quiet? I thought the point was to talk loudly, eat, and drink."

Banquets were held in Stormhertz from time to time. They were not simply for pleasure; they also served to strengthen the bonds between the lord and his retainers. They were important occasions.

He had seen even his normally taciturn father exchange bawdy jokes with his retainers once the drink took effect, so this gathering felt rather strange to him.

Knightly families were the descendants of warriors. Warriors were conservative and placed great importance on discipline and honor, but when they enjoyed themselves, they did so wholeheartedly.

Despite regional differences in culture, that was generally true. Count or duke, most houses that kept the martial spirit alive were much the same.

Yet Ricard's remark brought a triumphant smile to Regina's face.

"Ohoho! Only country bumpkins hold banquets like that. We are different. Shouldn't nobles conduct themselves with dignity and refinement?"

"Not honor and discipline?"

"Those are things mercenaries prattle about. Unfortunately, your clothing appears rather far removed from refinement, young sir."

Regina kept hiding needle-sharp barbs in her words. But her manner of speaking had no effect whatsoever on Ricard.

He understood both her intentions and her attitude toward him, but he simply considered them beneath his notice. He was not angry.

"I'm well aware that my clothes don't suit the occasion. Had you invited me when I had more money, I would have dressed appropriately. If my presence really bothers you, I'll leave."

"Ohohoho! No, no. Charity toward the lowly is also a virtue a noble ought to observe. Take your time and enjoy yourself. Just don't eat too greedily. It's an unpleasant sight. And if you happen to need money, I might speak to my father about lending you some, depending on how you behave."

Apparently convinced she had succeeded in humiliating Ricard, Regina laughed triumphantly.

Ricard merely thought her a pathetic little brat and saw no reason to engage with her further. But Marie, listening beside him, could not stand it.

Least of all could she tolerate someone attacking Ricard.

"Excuse me, my lady, but I believe you have some rather fanciful notions about the nobility."

Marie cut into the conversation. Her gaze was cold on the surface, but beneath it a fire raged.

"Whatever do you mean? I don't understand. Everyone here is a noble. Naturally, that includes me. And what family do you come from, my lady?"

Regina lifted her chin confidently. Hers was one of Ehrenberg's foremost merchant families.

But that was hardly something to boast of to Marie, whose father was the emperor and whose maternal family was that of Count Palatine Helauman.

It would never happen, of course, but if their families came into conflict, Marie's side could annihilate a single merchant house with no more effort than pressing down with a thumb.

Marie snorted at the absurdity. Still, she saw no need to reveal her family merely to crush an insignificant little creature like this. Nor did she want to.

"I believe my family is more distinguished than yours. You see, we display dignity and refinement without dressing ourselves in expensive clothes and jewelry. How unfortunate for you. No amount of decoration can change the blood in your veins. It's laughable to hear a mere merchant family speak of dignity."

"... Wh-what did you say?"

"Besides, aren't you nothing more than your family's puppet yourself, Lady Regina? Before long, your elders will decide to sell you off like a pig. Where is the dignity in that? I'm not like you. I'm free. Naturally, that includes the freedom to choose what I wear. Please don't take your sense of grievance, your irritation, and your frustration out on other people. It's pitiful to watch."

If Regina hid needles in her words, Marie seemed to be openly stabbing her with a knife.

The shock was apparently too much for Regina. The upturned corner of her mouth fell. The other merchant heirs nearby covered their mouths in astonishment.

Unwilling to admit defeat, she tried to force it back up, but the effort looked as arduous as lifting a boulder. She wanted to retort, yet could only stammer.

"Y-you, you said, a p-pig, how rude..."

"Go home and quietly do your needlework, you poor lady. It seems a better fit for you."

Marie utterly crushed her.

Ricard thought that his mother had done needlework every day too, but he took no offense. Given the circumstances, he understood.

The atmosphere felt like a balloon inflated to bursting point. Then, suddenly, a grown man's voice rang out.

"Our young hero?"

Ricard turned to find a middle-aged man looking at him, wearing the broad, floppy hat favored by merchants.

"I'm not sure about the hero part, but I am from the Beringen Guild branch."

"Ah, dear me. My apologies. I thought you hadn't come. Why didn't that boy inform me? I'm terribly sorry. I should have received you separately. This way, please."

There seemed to have been some sort of mix-up. Perhaps they had gone into the wrong room.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, my lady. Needlework isn't such a bad thing, either."

With those words to Regina, Ricard followed the man out with Marie.

The room had been quiet since the pair arrived, and it remained quiet now. But despite the silence around her, the girl was trembling with seething rage.

"I am Marconis, head of the Marconis Trading Company. I should have received you properly. The fault is mine. Please forgive me."

The man who had invited Ricard spoke as he served expensive tea in the drawing room.

Tea could only be obtained by purchasing it from the distant Salaman people. It was not merely worth its weight in gold; it was worth more.

Ricard took a sip and encountered an aroma unlike anything he had ever smelled. It was difficult to describe. Though the tea was certainly warm, it left a cooling sensation.

"Is the tea to your liking?"

Marconis gave him an affable smile. Yet something about that seemingly practiced expression struck Ricard as off.

"It has an unusual fragrance. I like it."

"And you, my lady?"

"I like it too."

"I'm glad. Unfortunately, however, the banquet is already over. The room you were in was for a social gathering. The children of Ehrenberg's influential families meet there to become acquainted and, where appropriate, find a match. I imagine that must have been entertaining in its own way..."

Ricard immediately realized the man was lying. Looking into Marconis's eyes, he could tell that he had deliberately steered them into that room.

He could not be certain why. To take him down a peg first? To put pressure on him?

Had he thought that letting the children intimidate Ricard before approaching him himself would give him the advantage in negotiations or whatever else they discussed?

It was a cunning trick, but a shallow one. Ricard had no desire to exchange lengthy pleasantries with this man. He was neither a merchant nor a negotiator.

"It was entertaining enough. But why did you invite me?"

"Hahaha! As forthright as one would expect of a hero."

Marconis laughed at Ricard's blunt manner and attempt to get straight to the point.

Merchants, after all, usually spent a considerable amount of time talking around a subject with their well-oiled tongues.

"First of all, I heard you had opened a new business in town and wished to introduce myself. Your reputation is so great that, I must confess, I was curious. Besides, adventurers' guilds have always maintained close ties with merchants, have they not?"

That much was true, and Ricard nodded. Where money went, swords followed; where swords swung, bloodstained money spilled. That was the way of the world.

"So you invited me to get acquainted. I'm afraid I'm not much of a conversationalist."

"Ah, but there's still a second reason. In fact, this is the important one."

"Go ahead."

"Have you heard of the Ehrenberg Stonemasons' Guild?"

"Yes. I hear they're quite famous around here."

"Their craftsmanship is excellent, but they're such rough people that trouble arises all too often. We paid for the construction work exactly as agreed, yet they've occupied the docks again and are demanding more money. Money may be our trade, but that doesn't mean we have an endless supply of it, does it?"

Ricard gazed down at his tea. Perhaps he didn't have an endless supply of money, but he had enough to enjoy tea?

"So you want us to rough them up?"

"Hahaha... That's a little blunt, but in short, yes. Every day our ships cannot sail costs us ten gold coins. And this is already the third day. What are we to do?"

"What's the advance, the interim payment, and the fee on completion?"

Ricard found it exhausting to talk with Marconis, who kept deliberately drawing the conversation out.

At Ricard's question, Marconis took money from inside his clothes. With a jingle, he stacked gold coins in two piles of ten, each coin polished until it gleamed. Twenty gold coins.

"Twenty gold in advance. Ten as an interim payment. Thirty upon completion. Sixty gold in total."

They would of course need to draw up a contract separately, but his deliberate display of gold felt like another negotiating tactic.

Still, sixty gold coins was an enormous sum. Twelve hundred silver coins.

The bounty for capturing Haspil alive, the Murder Guild leader known as He Who Makes Mothers Weep, had been forty gold.

"We can't kill them or anything, I take it?"

"The fee is so generous precisely because you must resolve the matter without killing anyone."

"All right. I'll discuss it with my companions and get back to you. Thank you for the tea."

"Pardon?"

Having heard everything he needed to, Ricard stood without hesitation. Marconis blinked at him in disbelief.

"I said I'll get back to you. We'll be going now. Goodbye."

Whether Marconis found it absurd or not, Ricard simply walked out of the drawing room with Marie. However urgently they needed money, they could not enter into contracts carelessly.

Outside the mansion, several people were taking carriages home. Many guests were spending the night, but apparently some were leaving.

Ricard and Marie headed back to the guild building on foot, just as they had come.

As they walked along the river, they could see lights from the docks, the mansions, and other places reflected in the black water. The moon rippled on its surface as though submerged in the river.

There was a certain charm to it, but also an eerie atmosphere, as though an assassin might spring from the bushes at any moment.

Yet Ricard and Marie were entirely unafraid, and so could simply appreciate the beauty of the riverside at night.

"There's something off about that man, isn't there?"

Marie spoke. She had not seen through Marconis's shallow tricks as clearly as Ricard, but she too seemed to have noticed something amiss.

"Yeah."

"But making an enemy of him wouldn't be a good idea either, would it? We need to establish ourselves in this city, and he's influential here."

"Well, we'll have to see how things stand. Bori and Ice went to the docks, so let's ask them what it was like there."

"All right."

Leaving the riverside, they walked through the city's nighttime streets.

Not a single other person was out. The city was so dangerous after dark that everyone stayed shut indoors.

The boy and girl continued down the deserted streets. The clicking and thudding of their footsteps sounded unusually clear.

Ricard looked up at the Milky Way visible between the buildings. Beside him, Marie watched his face.

This was as close as they could be. That pained Marie deeply, yet part of her was grateful. At least she could be this close. Close enough to take his hand if she reached out. But she did not take it now.

She did not know why, but she felt there was sadness in the boy's eyes as he gazed at the night sky.

Why had he stopped believing in love, when he knew how to cherish another person's feelings? Suddenly, she felt sorry for him.

Others might see a genius swordsman, a terrifying enemy, a close friend, or a hero. But to Marie, for some reason, he seemed pitiful.

She was the only person who had knocked upon the boy's tightly closed door, and so she could dimly sense what lay beyond it.

She found him wonderful and admired him, yet at the same time she wanted to hold him and comfort him.

But when they reached the passage beneath a bridge over the waterway, they saw several dark silhouettes blocking their path.

Were they thugs? Ordinary city ruffians? As those thoughts passed through their minds, someone stepped forward with clicking footsteps. Then a familiar voice spoke.

"There is something besides dignity and decorum that distinguishes nobles from commoners. Strength. Or, to put it another way, power. Surely you didn't imagine that lowly adventurers could insult a noble like me and simply get away with it? I do hope you're not that stupid."

The voice belonged to Regina.

Ricard reached for the dagger at his waist. Looking at the waterway beside the road, he wondered whether dumping the bodies there would dispose of them properly.

Before he could do anything, however, Marie stepped forward.

"You really are a nuisance."

Perhaps because Regina had interrupted their precious time alone, Marie no longer concealed the fury in her eyes.

Seeing that look, Ricard briefly wondered whether he ought to stop her. Though, admittedly, he himself had been worrying about disposing of bodies only a moment earlier.