Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 10 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Incessant Plots

The capital of O’ltormea—the heart of the western continent’s greatest hegemony, a mighty country ablaze with the aspiration of unifying the continent under its rule. However, over the last couple of years, with the death of Gaius Valkland as the apparent trigger, its aspirations seemed to have halted somewhat. Still, this meant little to the commoners. O’ltormea’s very name carried power with it. And the commoners favored those with power. They might grumble and complain, but in the end, they fawned over those stronger than them. In no place in any country was that more clear than in this capital city.

The number of subjects flowing into this city continually rose on a daily basis. Despite this, owing to O’ltormea’s status as a strong, militaristic powerhouse, many soldiers patrolled the streets and the capital’s public order was ranked high among the cities of this world.

People brought forth money, and money beckoned people—a synergy. If nothing else, the capital of O’ltormea could confidently be called the most prosperous city on the continent.

Business around here is booming as always, even though it’s been declared that the expedition to conquer Xarooda failed.

Despite the empire’s failed campaign to conquer Xarooda, internal affairs had remained calm. The commoners seemed to understand which country was truly the strongest.

But my, it’s gotten late. 

It was still early evening. Drunkards shambled about, and prostitutes sought to profit off of them. Since his work in the palace had taken longer than expected, he had left later than the appointed time. He walked along the moonlit flagstones to the pleasure district at the north of town.

“My, mister. Would you like to have some fun? I can offer you a good price.”

“No, you should have me. I can offer you a little something.”

Catching the scent of money from his tailored clothes, the prostitutes flocked around him. Nonetheless, he hastened his steps and ignored their solicitations.

How sad does one have to be to look for a woman in a place like this.

Only the prostitutes of the rundown district would tug on the sleeves of men for business. Put simply, they were middle-aged, unlicensed prostitutes who had grown too old for their contracts. They were what remained of women who once aspired to be registered prostitutes. True, they were relatively cheaper than those registered with the state. But the risk of them carrying some kind of disease was higher, and as one might expect, their performance matched their price.

He didn’t deny that some of them might be an unexpectedly good bargain, but he didn’t struggle for female company if he needed it. He wasn’t one to brag, but he was quite affluent. Perhaps not like a royal, but he did better for himself than most nobles.

But more importantly, he had somewhere to be. He’d sent a message ahead that he might be slightly late, so he wasn’t in that big of a rush. Still, being a hard worker by nature, his legs hurried him along.

Perhaps irritated by his curt approach, one of the women pulled hard on his mantle. The man scowled, the odor of cigarettes and cheap perfume soured by sweat filling his nostrils. This woman perhaps took a bit more care of her grooming than most commoners who sold their bodies, but unlike people in Japan, the people here didn’t see bathing as an everyday occurrence. This made him even less keen to get involved with her. In short, he wasn’t so inconvenienced so as to settle on any woman.

Forcibly shaking off the prostitute’s hold on him, he hurried onward without looking back. She saw him off with a torrent of shouts and curses. Apparently, when he shook her off, she lost her balance and skinned her knees. To avoid a commotion, he flicked a silver coin behind him. He could hear her swearing, but he didn’t bother to stop.

I hate not having a horse to get around. Though I did send a missive that I’d be late.

A horse or a carriage would solve most of these issues, but sadly vehicles of any kind were forbidden in this pleasure district. Anyone who crossed through this place would have to do so on foot, no matter how heavy their pockets or how noble their origins were. This was similar to Yoshiwara, a pleasure district from the Edo period, where only doctors were allowed to pass through in vehicles. Still, this didn’t mean he could afford to use martial thaumaturgy to hurry his steps. With the crowd being as thick as it was, doing so would result in an accident.

I swear, I cross this place every day and I can’t get used to it...

He didn’t dislike the lively hustle and bustle of a city, but everything had its limits. This was an annoyance he had unfortunately felt countless times already. But he understood that this place was perfect for a secret meeting, so he never showed his displeasure to his superior in either speech or conduct. After all, their meetings had to be clandestine.

Finally, large gates that looked like they’d belong to a high-ranking noble’s estate came into view. The grounds were protected by a tall fence, and burly gatekeepers stood guard at the entrance. This was in fact a brothel, and one that catered to the highest echelons of society by offering the finest grade of women.

One of the gatekeepers noticed him approaching and referred to him respectfully. “My apologies, sir, but could you kindly present your member’s certificate? Or did one of the members refer you to us?”

The guard was a middle-aged man, but even through his clothes one could see the tense, well-built muscles of a warrior. His facial features were those of a man who seemed accustomed to fighting and violence. Despite that, he was well-dressed, clad in a tailored tailcoat, and his hair was swept back. This was how one might expect a person in the night entertainment business to look, though. Rumor had it that not just nobles but even royalty frequented this establishment incognito. The gatekeepers of this place were appropriately disciplined.

“Will this do?” he said, producing a card from his pocket. This was a procedure he’d gone through countless times already.

Always sticklers for regulations...

This gatekeeper wasn’t a stranger to him. They knew each other and would even drink together on days when he was off-duty. Besides, this guard was a member of the Organization, just like he was. The guard would never mistake him for anyone else, even if remembering the guests’ faces wasn’t part of a gatekeeper’s duty.

In some ways, he couldn’t help but grumble. Wasn’t it about time he’d be allowed in without showing his card every single time? But given this estate’s importance, he understood the heavy emphasis on security. Should this place be attacked by a rival faction, the intelligence activities they’d been working on for a good while now would be paralyzed for a time. That would place the lives of operatives working across many regions at risk. So as annoyed as he might have been by the security, he had to admit the guard was right to adhere to regulations.

“Yes, everything looks to be in order. Please, come in.”

After confirming the name and numbers printed on the card, he inserted it into a slot in a pedestal sitting within his station. A crystal on the pedestal displayed some information, to which he nodded, signaling another gatekeeper to open the gate. The gate slowly opened with a long, metallic grating.

“Everyone’s already waiting for you, Sir Saito.”

This man’s name was Hideaki Saito, aide to the O’ltormea Empire’s first princess, Shardina Eisenheit, and vice-captain of the Succubus Knights.

Saito nodded briefly and crossed the gate. After he entered the estate, a maid greeted him and led him up the staircase of a large reception hall lit by a chandelier. Each time he passed by a room’s door, the sounds of a woman’s coquettish voice or vulgar laughter reached his ears.

This place is as prosperous as ever. That’s good, I suppose.

This brothel’s profits made for a significant chunk of the Organization’s income. This wasn’t very pertinent to the situation, but the sex industry in this world was a massive market compared to Saito’s home world. Some dry part of his mind remarked that a world with no television or computers would leave one with little in the way of pastimes. Books existed, but the literacy rate was incredibly low. Even fewer people knew basic arithmetic. In this kind of world, prostitution proved to be a line of work where, regardless of sexual discrimination or lack of education, the rich came to pass their time. The guild knew this, which was why it was left largely unregulated. Or more precisely, such careless regulation would undermine the Organization’s radical faction, since this was a significant part of the framework that allowed them to operate in O’ltormea. This was also why the pleasure districts in the empire were so well-managed.

Needless to say, they cared little for anything as lofty as the country’s public order or welfare. Their reason was as simple as it gets: prostitution meant easy money in this world. It was the same reasoning adventurers and mercenaries picked those professions. With nothing more than physical might and luck, they could earn enough to make a living. If they lacked either or both, they’d die. But for a commoner who didn’t know how to write their own name, this was one of the few ways to earn money quickly.

And indeed, every year countless young people joined the guild to seek their fortune. Most of them died or spent their days earning a small income as low-ranking adventures. But those blessed by talent, wits, and luck had a way of popping up everywhere. And those lucky souls earned more in a year than a regular commoner would earn in a lifetime.

What’s more, though they possessed such rare luck and talent, people like this weren’t uncommon. Even if only one out of one thousand people were to be that lucky, if a million people registered in the guild every year, it would still leave a thousand fortunate adventurers. And the number of people who came to the guild every year exceeded one million.

But the problem was that most of those lucky souls didn’t know how to put their fortune to use. It was said that winning the lottery could ruin one’s life. Be it true or false, when one went to the bank to draw on that money, clerks would often lecture them, telling them not to quit their jobs. That was because when people happened upon large sums, they tended to lose their capacity for calm reasoning. That said, things were a bit different for adventurers and mercenaries, since the dangerous nature of their work meant they couldn’t assume they’d live long. So they would sink their money into alcohol, gambling, and women.

For the Organization’s radical faction, prostitution was a goose that laid golden eggs. As such, they had their front organization—the guild—negotiate things with O’ltormea so that management and regulation of the brothels would lie with them. In fact, most of the brothels within the empire’s territories were managed by the guild and operated with registered prostitutes. More precisely, the owner of a brothel had to apply to the guild, and the women who pursued this profession worked under the responsibility and liability of the guild.

Normally, prostitution contracts forced the contractor to work until a certain age, and they received a hefty advance payment that was to be paid off during their tenure. Fundamentally speaking, it was no different than being a slave—the only advantage being they could eventually buy back their freedom. They led lives like the sex slaves one heard of in stories, living chained up in filthy rooms. This meant that most pleasure districts in this world were a hell on earth—dirty, cold beds set with filthy sheets. Most slaves weren’t allowed to bathe and only ate scraps. They were nothing more than birds in cages.

But things were different within O’ltormea’s territories. They couldn’t quit of their own will, that much was the same. They did receive a generous down payment for their future services, and that still had to be recouped. But they were allowed to take leave and consult if they became sick. Their employers provided them with their life necessities, and based on their brothel’s rank, they might be taught not only how to write and do basic math, but how to sing, play instruments, and appreciate arts like the theater. More importantly, since their entertainment often culminated in passionate lovemaking, they were required to bathe often and maintain their personal hygiene and appearance. A normal commoner would never get that treatment.

Everything the guild managed, brothels included, usually catered to the rich and the affluent. While prostitutes engaged in a profession that was seen as overall lowly and promiscuous, they were often a part of high society events, where they served delicious cuisine and expensive alcohol to important clients. Assuming those clients didn’t have any depraved preferences, most people preferred the company of clean, beautiful women. And more often than not, they wanted their partners to be of a similar intellectual standard as themselves. Pretending to be ignorant and shallow could, on occasion, come across as charming. But a woman that was entirely unintelligent was a woman not worth talking to.

The same held true for matters of etiquette and manners. Some rules could be overlooked if they were broken because of ignorance, and perhaps it would even come across as charming naivete. But if a woman was too ignorant, she would come across as an uncultured savage. It was ignorance in both cases, but people’s reactions to one was strikingly different than the other.

The same could be said of bathing as well. Any woman, no matter how beautiful, would be undesirable if she was covered in grime and her hair was unkempt. A man who found traces of another man on the woman they were about to bed would soon lose interest. And not just that. A customer paying for a woman to share the night with would not want to be met with a morose, dejected doll, but someone who would visibly enjoy their time together. At least, most reasonable customers would align with that logic.

All of this affected how the women were treated. Since the women were merchandise, the brothel managers knew to keep them groomed and presentable. Licensed prostitutes were given contracts with a clearly stated service period, and unlike slaves they couldn’t be killed for no reason. And based on their performance, they could refuse clients they didn’t like, or they could even cut their period by half by earning the money to buy their freedom.

Of course, very few prostitutes earned that kind of freedom. But then again, that wasn’t to say any woman could become a prostitute. It was said that every stone could shine if it’s polished, but polishing took effort. Those who shone on their own were preferred. A diamond was a precious gemstone, but not every lump of diamond was prized as a jewel.

That was how unlicensed prostitutes came to be. About half of them were women who tried to become licensed prostitutes to escape the hard life of this world and failed—like pop stars who failed to make it big in Saito’s world, flunking auditions and eventually becoming trapped in dead end jobs. The other half were licensed prostitutes who’d concluded their contract and couldn’t find any other way to make a living. Technically speaking, unlicensed prostitution was illegal in O’ltormea territories, but their appearance and skills were seen as decent.

People from Rearth—and the Japanese in particular—were insistent on cleanliness and quite demanding. They tended to care about their appearance and personal grooming, more so than people in this world. In that regard, if a licensed prostitute was like French cuisine, an unlicensed prostitute was like fast food. Their respective costs and qualities meant they were in demand by different people.

But the sad truth was that while the guild’s objective was to protect the rights of adventurers, they still had a hand in this industry.

In the end, ideals only go so far, I suppose.

A hint of pity bubbled up in Saito’s heart. The system the Organization assembled in O’ltormea’s territory wasn’t perfect. In terms of their modern world, this could only be called pre-modern vice. But even this anachronistic system was a groundbreaking reform in this world’s standards. There were countless prostitutes outside O’ltormea who were much worse off than the ones within it.

Even knowing this, Saito couldn’t do anything to change it. The Organization wasn’t a charity group. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to make this world a bit more comfortable for women, but there were things the Organization wouldn’t budge on, and it would stop at nothing to achieve its goals.

People within the Organization held a deep-seated, powerful grudge toward this Earth, and some of them wouldn’t hesitate to massacre its people if it would suit their needs. However, most of the Organization’s members were nothing more than run-of-the-mill civilians before being summoned—for better and for worse. So long as they were confident it wouldn’t hinder their goals, they wouldn’t mind acting for the benefit of others.

Even so, whatever benefits the Organization could offer didn’t extend to anyone and everyone—especially now when the overall goals of the Organization differed based on the factions scattered about the continent. That led to the pained conclusion that sometimes one couldn’t even do good in whatever limited capacity they did have. One might be able to extend a helping hand to one person, but fail to save another.

As that thought crossed Saito’s mind, the maid leading him stopped in front of a door to a room—the room on the brothel’s top floor furthest from the stairs.

“Right this way,” the maid prompted, opening the door.

“Thank you,” Saito responded. He nodded and entered the room. But the moment he took a single step inside, he stopped in place.

Seeing two men seated on the sofa, Saito bowed his head reflexively. “O-Oh. Erm... My apologies for being late.”

One of the men was someone Saito expected to see here, so he didn’t feel as inclined to apologize to him. Saito had already sent him a message that he’d be late, and he came here specifically to meet him. The other person, though, was someone he didn’t expect, and seeing him sent a cold sensation slithering down his spine.

“Aah, you can do away with the pleasantries,” said the unexpected man. “Now that everyone’s here, I say we get these talks started, shall we?”

He was relatively young, somewhere between his late twenties to mid-thirties. He had an oriental appearance; his skin was tanned and his black hair was cut short. Despite this, his physique was quite large. He was easily twice Saito’s size.

The man regarded Saito with a jovial smile, revealing a row of white, well-maintained teeth as he urged him to take a seat.

What’s Kikukawa doing here...?

Saito was visibly confused by Kikukawa’s presence. Still, a superior had told him to sit. He couldn’t refuse.

“M-Mr. Carter... What is this...?” Saito whispered to the blond Caucasian man as he took a seat.

Contrary to Saito’s expectations, the man responded with an icy, blade-like glare. “Saito. Please...” His eyes delivered a clear, strict instruction: shut up and sit down.

James Carter was the master of this estate and the man in charge of the intelligence network spread throughout the capital. It was rumored he was once affiliated with British intelligence. Normally, he struck Saito as a bearded man with a fondness for the pipe and a penchant for witty humor. But nothing felt humorous about him now.

With Carter’s gaze on him, Saito had no choice but to comply.

What is this all about? Is it about the invasion on Xarooda? But why would Kikukawa get involved?

Seeing this change in attitude from his British gentleman of a superior left Saito even more confused and uncertain than before. He directed a downcast gaze at Kikukawa.

Don’t tell me they’re...cutting me off? No...

Saito was beside himself. He could imagine being reprimanded, but this felt excessive. Even if they were banishing him from the Organization, why would Kikukawa come personally to do it? All he’d have to do is send a piece of paper. This made Kikukawa’s intention all the more unclear, which filled Saito with inexplicable dread—a sense of terror greater than anything he’d felt even in the presence of O’ltormea’s emperor, Lionel Eisenheit.

“I think introductions are in order, first,” Kikukawa said, extending his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Atsuya Kikukawa. As young as I may be, I’m honored to work with you.”

Saito shakily took his hand and shook it.

Kikukawa winked at him in good humor. “No need to be so stiff, Saito. I’m not here to scold you or anything,” he said with a smile.

“No, but, erm... Why, then?” Saito stammered.

No matter what Kikukawa might say, Saito couldn’t simply accept it at face value. They might be close in age, but in terms of ranking, Kikukawa was among the highest members in the Organization. He was also aide to Kuze, one of the Elders and the leader of the radical faction. By comparison, Saito was the leader of an intelligence operations unit. He had his share of authority, but his standing within the Organization was that of a middle manager, as it were. Kikukawa was like the undersecretary of a government office, while Saito was a section manager under his jurisdiction.

What’s more, serving as an aide to Kuze meant Kikukawa was an exceedingly busy man. True, he was based in the capital, but his duties made it so he often went from one edge of the continent to another. The fact of the matter was that ever since he’d entered the Organization, Saito had never really seen Kikukawa. His presence here today, as a man of his position, was alarming.

Contrary to Saito’s anxiety, however, Kikukawa spoke with a serene expression. “Oh, don’t think much of it. I’ve been here in the capital ever since the invasion of Xarooda was decided, as a negotiations contact with the empire and transaction supervisor,” he said, smiling. Then he added, “We’ve made quite the profit, you see.”

That resolved one of Saito’s doubts.

 Right... On the surface, he’s the president of a company run by the guild. Him being in the capital at a time like this makes sense.

Kikukawa’s public face was that of a merchant with political ties. Remembering this eased some of Saito’s anxiety. But if this was true, it would mean Kikukawa had been in the capital for over a year now. If he was here for some trifling matter, he could have come at any time.

Then why this, all of a sudden...?

Kikukawa seemed to sense the question on Saito’s mind, since he simply shrugged. “Oh, it’s not much. It’s just that, since I’m here in the capital, Sir Kuze ordered me to give you his regards, as well as deliver a message. After all, there’s been a lull in business, and you’ve returned from Xarooda.”

“Well...” Saito managed to utter. This felt like a roundabout way of pointing out his lacking performance, and he was unsure as to how to reply.

Kikukawa continued, seemingly enjoying the subtle changes in Saito’s expression. “Firstly, we’d like to thank Mr. Carter’s unit for their hard work. Especially you, Saito. Your capacity for skillfully controlling Lady Shardina was imperative for this plan’s success!” Kikukawa finished by laughing out loud.

In truth, the profits Kikukawa had gained from the O’ltormean invasion of Xarooda were high enough to match nearly half of the empire’s yearly budget. War was a major expense, after all. They needed not only food and supplies, but swords, armor, equipment, medical supplies...even women.

Everything flew off the shelves during wartime. Prices skyrocketed. The members of the Organization were outsiders, and to them, the longer the war lasted, the more they profited. But if the empire were to win or lose a war too easily, things would end too soon. And so they had but one resort. The Organization would have to control both sides of the war—rig it so the O’ltormea Empire didn’t win or lose too quickly.

That kind of manipulation was easier said than done, though. Besides, Xarooda was the victim in the war and O’ltormea was the attacker. One side was desperately defending itself, while the other had no intention of going easy on its prey.

Saito could have made an intentional error in his command and thrown the battle, and he could have double-crossed O’ltormea and moved to Xarooda’s side. But once he’d done either of those, he wouldn’t be able to go back. Placing O’ltormea in a temporary state of weakness was one thing, but controlling the battlefield to an extent where he had control over every victory and defeat would be impossible. As such, Saito picked a different tactic. He indirectly leaked the route of the supply caravans leaving from Fort Notis to Xarooda’s spies. By obstructing the delivery of military supplies gathered from around O’ltormea, they were able to slow the speed of the empire’s invasion.

Considering that Saito was at the core of the invasion, pulling that off wasn’t easy. Had Shardina or his colleagues suspected anything, his head would have been on the chopping block. But the danger he braved reaped favorable rewards.

“I’m being quite serious here. Managing that fastidious shrew of a princess must be quite the bother. That initial blitz was her idea, I hear?” Kikukawa said with a smirk.

Saito nodded in affirmation. Lionel Eisenheit was known as the Lion Emperor by their neighboring countries, and as his daughter, the Imperial Princess Shardina was no fool. Perhaps it wasn’t as obvious in recent years, given how poorly things had been going for her, but her strategy did claim Arios Belares’s life in the battle for the Notis Plains. No one could look down on that achievement.

By removing the general from the equation, she was able to turn major nobles within Xarooda to her side. Having seen her do it first hand, Saito was quite impressed with her abilities. Had he not skilfully and secretly halted O’ltormea’s invasion efforts, Shardina’s endeavors may well have wiped Xarooda off the face of the map by now.

“No, it’s... They just don’t know the sigil on me was undone,” Saito said.

“I see. That would be a major factor.”

The sigil of slavery was a thaumaturgical sigil applied to those summoned from Rearth. It had forced countless otherworlders into dying in wars they had no desire to participate in.

“Yes, if they don’t know your sigil of slavery was undone, O’ltormea’s people have no reason to suspect you. That’s exactly what we want, of course.”

Saito regarded Kikukawa with a thin smile. Normally, there was no way of undoing this sort of sigil once someone had been branded with it. When Saito was first brought to this world, he was treated like an animal in human form. He wasn’t seen as a fellow human being. Certainly, there were some people who were more open-minded and civilized, like Shardina. But for the grand majority of the ruling class, people from Rearth were nothing more than human-shaped pawns that happened to be capable of speech. The very idea of them being freed simply didn’t exist.

Unlike the typical sigil applied to slaves, the sigils applied to otherworlders used precious and rare catalysts that made the spell incredibly powerful and difficult to break. This spell was very much the summoner’s lifeline, a mark of absolute safety that protected them from whomever they summoned. It was because of this spell’s existence that people like Saito and Sudou were given degrees of freedom and authority. The empire was confident that they wouldn’t—or rather, couldn’t—betray their masters. That was why they could adopt a carrot-and-stick policy with them.

But that absolute guarantee could be turned against their would-be masters.

“Still, the fact of the matter is that if you’d gone too far, people would begin to suspect. Besides, I’d imagine you’d like nothing more than to slay those people and satisfy your grudges. But you mask your hatred well. No one suspects your intentions. I can only praise your self-restraint. You’ve done very well, Saito. In more ways than one.”

An animal unchained would want to bare its fangs at once. Even if it would cost them their lives, people sought revenge. This was why people like Saito were necessary for the Organization’s cause. Revenge was a sweet temptation few could resist. The fact that he was able to leak inside information to Xarooda without drawing anyone’s attention was proof of his superior skills.

Saito, however, regarded Kikukawa’s praise with dark eyes. “Killing one or two of them at this point won’t change anything.”

There was no shortage of people Saito wanted to lash out at and kill. Some part of him wanted to mercilessly kill every man, woman, and child of this blasted world. Every single aspect that made up this distorted hell was something Saito would crush to bits if given the chance. More importantly, he wanted to ensure that no one else would have to live through the things he did.

Saito’s eyes were full of both blazing hatred and stern resolve. A sliver of the darkness hidden in his heart came to the forefront. Kikukawa himself had seen many battles, and even he couldn’t help but feel a shudder run through him at the sight of it.

Dark eyes, burning with madness. The grit to unflinchingly bare his fangs before me. Yes, I can see why he favors him so much.

With a dry cough, Kikukawa bowed his head. “My apologies, Saito. I may have spoken rashly. I know of what happened to your sweetheart. You have my condolences. But you need only be patient a while longer. Thanks to the invasion of Xarooda, we’ve come significantly closer to the sum we need.”

Saito simply bowed his head. A stranger’s words of comfort would never be enough to bring back what he’d lost.

Patience, he says. How much longer am I going to have to wait...?

For the last decade, Saito had known only suffering. He’d both shed and spilled blood. He’d been made into Shardina’s aide, forced into setting up more summoning rituals against his will. He’d forced other people from his world into the same situation. He did try to minimize the amount of victims, but even that was just to curb his guilt. Saito knew this better than anyone. He’d become the very thing he loathed. If it wasn’t so tragic, it would have been funny for how ironic it was. But he still had one wish to make a reality, and everything he did up to now led to its fruition.

Sensing Saito’s emotions, Kikukawa leaned forward. “The success of this plan has earned us a large amount of money. And as such, the Organization has decided to set forth on a new strategy.”

Kikukawa trailed off and gazed right into Saito’s eyes. This was a crucial transition period for Kikukawa, and indeed, everyone in the Organization looked forward to this.

“To that end, we need to ask you to take up a new assignment.”

His voice was low, as if he’d spoken from the depth of his stomach. The sound echoed heavily in Saito’s ears.

“An assignment?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Kikukawa said softly. “We want you to pit the crown prince and Shardina against each other.”

Hearing Kikukawa’s instructions, Saito’s expression contorted in joy.

♱

Darkness settled over the city, and as the prostitutes shared sweet dreams with their clients, one man awaited his guest in a furnished brothel room.

“Hm. It seems the talks are taking longer than expected.”

Crossing his legs, he examined the clock on the wall with a smile. He then took up the glass resting near the sofa and brought the red liquid to his lips. As the rich aroma filled his mouth, he swallowed it with a satisfied smile. For one moment, one that lingered long enough to feel eternal yet ended quickly enough to make him wistful, he was filled with bliss.

This man lived a life of plotting, scheming, and bloodshed. Moments like these were his sole respite. And yet it seemed the gods didn’t favor him that night. A knock on the door yanked him out of his reveries, eliciting a sharp click of the tongue. But it took no longer than a second for him to regain his composure and beckon the visitor to enter. His attitude was now that of a superior addressing his subordinate.

The door opened and Kikukawa entered the room. Sudou regarded him with a glance, his usual arrogant smile taking over his lips.

“Mr. Sudou. I’ve spoken to Saito about it,” Kikukawa said.

“Good work. It took you a while, though. Did something happen?”

Kikukawa glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a small sigh. It was now an hour past the appointed time.

“My apologies. It took a bit longer than expected. Not unreasonable, given his position.”

Losing one’s family brought a great deal of pain and sorrow. If that loss was to illness or accident, the heart could come to terms with it. It was easier to think that death was unavoidable. But when another stole the life of a loved one, things were quite different. A vengeful flame was alight in the hearts of many of the Organization’s members, and despite his calm, collected demeanor, the same was true for Saito. No, in his case, he was forced to hide that anger and serve his hated foe. He couldn’t be expected to remain calm when told that the long-awaited day of retribution was fast approaching.

“I see. Well, I’m sure it was big news for him.”

“Yes,” Kikukawa replied, forcing a smile and nodding.

“Very good work, then,” Sudou said, motioning for him to approach. “Now, Kikukawa, no need to stand there. Take a seat. I’ll pour you a drink.”

Even when faced with one of the highest ranking members of the Organization, Sudou’s attitude was the same as ever. True, Sudou was ranked quite high in the Organization as well, but his standing was still lower than Kikukawa’s. Despite that, Sudou’s conduct was natural and relaxed—brazen, even. The most surprising part, however, was that Kikukawa seemed to accept this naturally. In fact, their exchange made it seem as though their positions were reversed and Kikukawa was working under Sudou.

“Yes. Excuse me, then.”

Kikukawa sat opposite of Sudou, who was reclining on the sofa and sipping his drink, and took the glass resting on the table. It was a silver goblet, fashioned with delicate engravings. After taking a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship, Kikukawa took a slow sip.

“This is fine wine. Sharing it with a man feels like a waste,” he said as he took in its thick aroma. The wine was certainly made from high quality grapes and had been allowed to ferment anywhere from several years to over a decade.

“Yes, apparently this one was purchased from a warehouse in the south. Hm, and I’m inclined to agree that sharing it with a beautiful woman would have been perfect.”

Relishing fine cuisine and alcohol while surrounded by the finest women was a dream most men had presumably fantasized about at some point. This world had little by way of distractions as it was, and love affairs were among the few things that did count as a worthy pastime.

“A fine idea. James did tell me to contact him because he’d gotten his hands on a few good girls... But first we should take care of our work, I think.” With that said, Kikukawa handed him the documents he was carrying.

Sudou shrugged, like a parent entertaining his child’s whim. “Why, aren’t you the hard worker. Though, I suppose that’s how you climbed to your rank at such a young age.”

Kikukawa simply slid the documents over. “This time’s report.”

Sudou skimmed through it before cocking an eyebrow. “Hm, hm. I see. Given his personality, that is how he’d act.”

The report detailed Simone Christof’s intentions and movements, along with her partner Ryoma Mikoshiba.

“I was able to impede them thanks to what you told me,” Kikukawa explained. “But this Ryoma Mikoshiba. He’s a fairly troublesome one.”

With the recent war between the two countries, prices had skyrocketed across the continent. This was the natural course of events. War consumed a great deal of materials and resources, making it the perfect marketplace for a merchant. Demand increased. Supply couldn’t keep up with it and prices rose. It was the basic logic of economics; just about anyone could wrap their minds around it, and the history books displayed countless examples of it happening. But just because one understood this knowledge, it didn’t mean they necessarily had the decisiveness to act on it.

Sudou nodded. “Yes, he is. He’s wiser than most people his age.”

Indeed, how many people could act the way Ryoma Mikoshiba did? Most wouldn’t capitalize on that kind of chance even if it did happen upon them.

“It makes sense he’d draw on Xarooda’s market. He did go there as part of the expedition, after all. But I didn’t imagine he’d take a bite out of O’ltormea’s market. They’re his enemies. And he used a defunct local trade firm like the Christof Company to form connections with rival businessmen in the capital...”

Ryoma had engaged both his allies and his rivals in business—albeit, not directly. This was frowned upon among merchants, and if this were to be exposed, he’d be in a great deal of trouble. But if he could keep it hidden, few trade methods could prove to be as lucrative.

In that regard, the way the Christof Company operated was thorough and appropriate. Even if the Organization were to leak this information to Xarooda and O’ltormea, they wouldn’t be able to blame Ryoma for it. Assuming they’d try to denounce him for his business dealings, they’d have to prove a cooperation existed between Baron Mikoshiba and the Christof Company, and there wasn’t enough evidence to establish that at present.

“I’m sure that from his perspective, whatever happens to anyone else is honestly none of his business,” Sudou said, laughing in amusement.

His analysis was quite close to Ryoma’s true feelings.

“He has good luck on his side, and on top of that, the ability and decisiveness to take advantage of it. He is a young man with a promising future, isn’t he? Though, he can be a bit naive... But no. This time I suppose he’s proven himself to be quite ruthless?”

Sudou shrugged, visibly hiding his honest thoughts on the matter. Kikukawa shook his head in exasperation. Still, he could handily pick up on what Sudou was trying to say.

Kikukawa had no intention of denying Sudou’s analysis of the boy. The goddess of fortune did seem to bless him with good luck, and he did prove capable of capitalizing on it. His conquest of Fort Notis was striking proof of this. In order to draw the guards outside of the fortress, he burned down the nearby villages. Most people from Rearth would see this as callous and atrocious. And while the knights under his command weren’t quite as guilty as he was, they did conveniently look the other way as he led the assaults. One couldn’t claim they weren’t at all responsible.

However, Simone Christof and her company did try to help with the recovery efforts. They gave low-interest loans or introduced convenient jobs to those who had been driven out of their homes by fire, which was quite unusual by this world’s standards.

Not that he did it entirely out of good will, Sudou thought as he took another sip of wine.

As far as Sudou knew, Ryoma was compassionate on one hand but brutal toward his foes on the other. In that regard, his actions made through Simone were acts of atonement toward those victims. But a more apt way of putting it would be that he used this aid as bait to create pawns within O’ltormea’s territory.

This didn’t mean he had any intention of making the villagers his spies. Those villagers were nothing more than uneducated country hicks. But even they had their uses. They had eyes, ears, and mouths. They were certainly handy for gathering information about the goings-on in the Notis Plains region and spreading rumors into the empire.

However, all of this meant Ryoma had the potential to become an obstacle the Organization couldn’t ignore.

“Please, Mr. Sudou. This is no laughing matter. I was able to pressure their client into declining this time, but if I hadn’t, there’s no telling how much money they would have made. And if they did...”

“Well, it’s a good thing you were there to stop it before the prices fell,” Sudou said.

Raising prices was akin to filling a balloon with air. However, one could simply poke a balloon and make it pop. Just like how no stock could go up too much without falling, increased prices eventually dropped. Kikukawa knew this very well and intended to eventually pop this war’s raised prices. It was similar to short selling in stocks, and by doing so, he would calculatingly crush his business rivals. However, the Organization had to be the one to dictate the timing of that decision. And until that time came, he’d have to delicately balance the high prices, making a profit as he did.

And yet outside interference threw a wrench into his calculations and disturbed that balance. From where Kikukawa was standing, he could neither smile nor laugh at this situation.

“I swear, you are quite the character,” Kikukawa said, sighing softly.

Sudou regarded things as if none of this was his problem. But if they didn’t take care of this in time, the Organization might fault them for failing to meet the required sum. This was a meticulous plan, carefully laid out by the radical faction over many years. The mere thought of delay sent shivers down Kikukawa’s spine. It would mean the wishes of not just the radical faction but the Organization as a whole would be swept further out of reach.

Kikukawa glared at Sudou, but Sudou merely tipped his glass to Kikukawa with an unaffected air. “Oh, I resent that. I’ve told you from the very beginning that we ought to be cautious of him.”

“Yes, I know that. But if you felt he was this dangerous, couldn’t you have done a little more?”

Sudou did report to the Organization about Ryoma, highlighting the threat he might pose. It was only a warning for caution’s sake, though, and his report wasn’t regarded with much weight. If one were to truly point fingers, the blame lay with the Organization’s upper brass, who didn’t take his report seriously.

This time, responsibility would lie with Kikukawa, who had drafted and directed this particular project. Kikukawa understood this, which was why he couldn’t help but question Sudou.

Sudou, however, was unfazed by his suggestion. “Well, if you ask me, things would have ended all the same,” he said cheerily, filling his empty glass. “Even if I’d predicted exactly what he’d do and told you of it, things wouldn’t have changed. Even I don’t hold that kind of sway over Sir Kuze and his cohorts, I’m afraid. They wouldn’t have believed me. And even if they had increased their watch over young Mr. Mikoshiba, that would have only created difficulties somewhere else.”

Kikukawa found it hard to press any further. No one would have thought to take precautions from that position. Yes, it was possible Ryoma Mikoshiba could prove to be an obstacle, but he’d need luck and power to do that. Based on the information Kikukawa had, it seemed very unlikely he’d have been able to achieve what he did.

Besides, even if Sudou’s report had been taken seriously, the Organization currently lacked the power to both keep a cautious eye on Ryoma’s movements and step in to prevent them at every turn. The Organization had vast power that spanned multiple nations, but that power was still finite. Since it was faced with a mighty enemy in the form of the Holy Qwiltantia Empire and its patron, the Church of Meneos, the Organization had no choice but to split its power between dealing with that and handling other matters. Accounting for every possible contingency and completely preventing such developments was impossible.

“Well, either way, I think it’d be wise to keep a close eye on him going forward,” Sudou said.

“That’s what I and the others intend on doing,” Kikukawa replied. “But that said, we hardly have any information to work with. The other day, we approached the people he left in charge to set up a guild branch in his domain. They turned us down firmly, saying they had their hands full with handling the monsters.”

Sudou narrowed his eyes. “Oh. So you still don’t have any information on what’s going on inside Wortenia?”

“No. Since they refused the offer to set up a branch, we handpicked skilled people from the eastern regions to infiltrate and investigate the peninsula. But we haven’t heard from them since. Technically, the fortress at the peninsula’s entrance is the window for negotiations, but when we asked them about what happened, they just said those people were likely done in by monsters. It’s a rumor among the adventurers recently, and it seems they’re all actively avoiding any work that deals with Wortenia. There are signs that the surrounding nobles tried to investigate Wortenia as well, but their efforts were in vain too.”

“Is that right...? I think we can see this as an intelligence lockdown.”

In most cases, when a region struggled with monster attacks, they tended to rely on the guild for help. Some influential nobles had their own loyal retainers form armies to handle those kinds of problems, but Ryoma was an upstart noble, so there was no apparent reason for him to reject the guild’s help. If there was a reason, it was that he wanted to prevent any and all information from leaking outside the Wortenia Peninsula.

“What are you going to do?” Kikukawa asked. “Mobilizing some of the Hunting Dogs to raid Wortenia is an option.”

“Hm. You’re saying we should mobilize S-rank warriors?”

On the surface, they were the guild’s most experienced warriors, those who had achieved Rank S. They were all monsters—quite literally one-man armies—and the most powerful military unit the Organization possessed. If a mere twenty of them were deployed into Wortenia, the place would be reduced to ashes before long.

If all we want is to remove him from the equation, that’d be fine...

It would be a simple, certain, and easy way of killing Ryoma, but neither the Organization nor Sudou felt like that would be a satisfying conclusion.

And besides, it wouldn’t be any fun.

Sudou, who had remained silent for a time, shook his head. “I think we should refrain from doing that. Mobilizing the Hunting Dogs now would present an opening for the Temple Knights. It wouldn’t be wise.”

If the Hunting Dogs were the Organization’s trump card, the Temple Knights were the Church of Meneos’s equivalent. Both forces were equally matched. While they weren’t in a state of open hostilities right now, there was no telling when and where a single spark might ignite. Moving their forces while the situation was strained would be a dangerous choice.

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Kikukawa snapped, his voice filling with anger at his idea being turned down. What Sudou said next, though, made his eyes open wide with shock.

“Well, how about we leave him alone?”

It was such an unexpected suggestion that Kikukawa was speechless. “That’s...insane. You understand how dangerous he is, yet you’re saying we should leave him be?”

“Well, yes, he is a dangerous man, but so long as we use him well, he can be a fine shield. After all, he gives off much the same scent as we do.”

Sudou stared at him with a look of great significance, but Kikukawa cocked his head. After a moment of silence, however, he realized what Sudou meant.

“A shield... You mean bait to distract Qwiltantia and the Church?”

“Yes. The harder he tries to keep information from leaking out, the more Qwiltantia and the Church will suspect he’s connected to us. Not knowing what he’s doing will overstimulate their imaginations. They’ll assume he’s more dangerous than he really is. And anyone looking in from the outside might think that the events of this war were a coordinated effort between us and him. I’m sure they wouldn’t be able to shake off that suspicion, in which case there’s no way they’d quietly stand by. Qwiltantia will try to strike at Ryoma Mikoshiba, for certain. Don’t you think he’ll make the perfect shield for us, then?”

“But will everything really go exactly the way you’re saying?” Kikukawa asked.

“That’s exactly why I think we should refrain from interfering and leave him to his own devices.”

It was unlikely Ryoma knew the full details of the Organization, but he probably suspected that a group was using the same tactics he was. But that was all he knew. If another faction were to face him and forcefully impede him, he would prioritize them. And from the Church of Meneos’s perspective, lack of evidence that he fought their rival faction would only reinforce their false suspicions that Ryoma was affiliated with the Organization.

“Put simply, we’ll be taking advantage of his order of priorities,” Kikukawa concluded.

“Yes, in all likelihood, he’d make that calculation quite easily.”

If one’s house was on fire, they wouldn’t worry about the possibility of an earthquake ruining their relatives’ house.

“I see... Not a bad plan,” Kikukawa said, clearly impressed with Sudou’s idea.

Even the most miraculous medicine in the world could be a lethal poison when administered incorrectly. And a poison could be as good as medicine when used the right way. It all depended on the person using them. Kikukawa thought to expel the poison, but Sudou planned the opposite—to use Ryoma Mikoshiba like a silver bullet. This was a stark example of the difference in abilities between Kikukawa and Sudou.

“Very well. I’ll inform Sir Kuze of your plan. This is just my assumption, but I don’t think he’ll object to it.”

“Really? Well, either way, I leave it in your capable hands, Mr. Kikukawa.”

Kikukawa nodded. “Anyway, the time is quite late, so I’ll excuse myself. Good night, Consultant Sudou.”

That was Sudou’s position within Kuze’s radical faction. There was no clear, agreed upon term for how the elders and high-ranking members in the faction referred to him. It was much like how firefighters and police officers were on the same side as government officials but they belonged to different organizations.

Each organization had different ranks and positions that, while called different names, were similar in responsibility and authority. In much the same way, the Organization Kikukawa and Sudou belonged to was basically split into twelve different groups. For example, Liu Daijin, also known as Liu Zhong Jian, came from Chinese origins. He formed a group patterned after the Chinese Heaven and Earth Society, probably because he’d been a part of that organization back in his old world. The Organization’s prior use of the old Chawanjin cyphers could be attributed to his influence. Similarly, Kuze was Japanese, and his radical faction’s use of an imperial trade company as a public front could perhaps be attributed to prior experience in running a company.

With that in mind, Kikukawa referring to Sudou as a consultant was quite the unusual gesture.

“Consultant, you say... I can’t say I like that title. It makes me feel older than I am,” Sudou said, a smile on his lips but a bitter expression in his eyes. The only reason he wasn’t truly telling Kikukawa off was because there was indisputable truth to that name. “But well, let us ignore that. Yes, thank you for your time. If anything else happens, do contact me.”

Sudou acted as if he’d said his piece and Kikukawa was free to do as he wished now, so Kikukawa bowed once and left. Now alone in the room, Sudou sank more deeply into the sofa and looked up to the ceiling.

“Keheheh. Things are sure to be interesting...”

To Sudou, any wish or ideal the Organization had was by now entirely meaningless. He still felt a modicum of duty to the Organization, and he certainly saw it as a tool to be exploited, so he’d retained his ties with the group. But that was all there ever was.

Blood. Blood. Crimson, red blood... The lust for that was the only thing that drove Sudou forward. Living in this world had, at some point, fundamentally broken any semblance of humanity that resided in him.

“So, what will young Ryoma Mikoshiba do next?”

Sudou’s jubilant voice echoed through the room. He was filled with an emotion, one similar to the strong looking down upon the weak.

“Now, I should find an outlet for this heat swirling inside me. Kikukawa did mention James had a few good women prepared, didn’t he?” Sudou whispered, reaching for the bell sitting on the table.

But even Sudou couldn’t have known that Ryoma Mikoshiba had already set his own next plot into motion.