I left Martin sprawled in a drugged stupor and slipped out of the alley.
He’d get up on his own eventually, and I’d told the alley rats to report in, so he’d probably make it back alive.
“Um… Is this really all right?” the coachman asked, looking at . Perhaps his loyalty was a bit thin compared to the others—he seed more frightened than angry.
“Don’t worry about it. We were the ones ambushed, weren’t we?” I replied.
“Well, yes, but still…” The coachman’s words trailed off as he cast a nervous glance behind us.
Apparently, the business of killing people and crossing a noble was weighing on his mind.
Then again, the coachman didn’t even know which noble House I belonged to.
No matter how much I insisted I was a noble, it was clear he thought I was nothing compared to House Artezia.
He probably just overheard ntion “Artezia” and pieced it together from there.
Well, even House Berg would be in a tough spot if they laid hands on a direct mber of that Duchy.
After all, this was Artezia we were talking about. They’d be demanding compensation and causing a scene, no doubt about it.
But that wasn’t sothing I needed to worry about right now.
They’d started the trouble, Martin would wake up with no idea who’d attacked him, and I’d spoken to the alley rats while masked.
So the coachman’s worries were never going to co true.
I patted the anxious coachman’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about that. Let’s go see your friend. Are you sure he’s nearby?”
“…Yes, sir.” The coachman’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth and nodded.
Our group was on its way to the coachman’s friend, who worked at the Miph Casino.
The coachman seed to have no idea why we were seeking out this friend, but for the mont, he followed my orders.
I gave him a satisfied look.
Keeping a handle on his curiosity? What a model subordinate, I thought, genuinely touched.
After spending ti with the likes of Lancelot, the coachman’s quiet obedience was enough to stir a bit of sentintality in .
After a bit more walking, the coachman finally announced, “We’re almost there.”
We found ourselves in a street wedged between the back alleys and the city proper. With a bit of generosity, you might even call it a slum. Still, maybe because the city watch actually patrolled this area, the streets seed fairly safe.
“This place is… remarkable, in its own way,” Lancelot muttered, wrinkling his nose at the sight of those struggling with poverty.
Compared to the back alleys, this area had at least been introduced to the idea of maintenance, but poverty still lingered in every corner.
Sunken roads and abandoned shards of glass decorated the street—a scene straight out of a neglected, impoverished domain.
“…Lucky we didn’t co on horseback,” Lancelot murmured to himself, shaking his head.
Ti passed in this fashion, though how much, who could say.
“Here we are.” The coachman stopped in front of a shabby shack.
From inside drifted the cough of a woman who sounded as if she’d been wrestling with illness for years, along with the unmistakable tallic tang of blood.
I looked at the coachman, my face asking, “What’s going on in there?”
He explained with a bitter expression. “My friend’s mother is very ill.”
“No cure?”
“There is. But… it costs far too much. That’s why my friend works at the casino.”
Working at the Miph Casino to save his mother—now, that was true filial devotion.
“Well, that’s convenient,” I murmured.
“…Excuse ?”
The coachman looked at , scandalized, as if to say, “Is that really sothing to be pleased about when soone’s mother is sick?”
I let out a quiet chuckle.
Leaving the coachman’s incredulous gaze behind, I opened the shack’s door.
Creeeak. The old hinges groaned their disapproval, revealing the shack’s interior.
To call it “decent” would have been a stretch. We might have left the back alleys behind, but poverty had clearly followed us in.
“…Rihan, are you inside?” With a weary sigh, the coachman stepped in. “If you’re in there, co out. It’s Hans.”
“…Hans?”
At the sound of the coachman’s voice, a man sidled out from the room where he’d been hiding.
He wore a tense look, and in his hand, he gripped a rusty kitchen knife.
“…So it really is you.”
“Would I be an imposter?”
“These days, you can’t be too careful. The city’s practically infested with thugs.”
“Why not just quit the casino, then?”
“How would I save my mother then?”
The man—Rihan, apparently—shot a furtive glance at his mother. She lay on a sickbed, wheezing and rattling like an old kettle on its last legs.
Rihan turned away with a thin sigh, then fixed with a wary look.
He asked hesitantly, “And who might this gentleman here be? Judging by the clothes, he seems like a noble.”
“You’re right. And as for why I’m here…” The coachman shot a sidelong glance.
It was the look of a man who’d just realized he had no idea why he was here and hoped I’d be charitable enough to explain.
I gave a faint nod and stepped toward Rihan, saying, “Pleased to et you. I’m Louis Berg, third son of Berg County.”
“…You were from House Berg?” The coachman, startled, blurted out the question.
But I decided to ignore him for now and pressed on. “First, let apologize for dropping in unannounced. I ca because I have sothing urgent to discuss with you, so I hope you’ll understand.”
“…Well, what’s there to understand for a nobody like ? Anyway, please, co in. It’s cold out.” Rihan glanced at , then waved inside.
“Thank you. The rest of you, wait here. I need a private word.”
“…But we’re cold too,” Lancelot complained.
“Then you can warm yourselves up. Go stab a spear into the air a thousand tis. Kai, keep count.”
“Yes, sir.”
“…Bloody hell.”
Lancelot stuck out his lower lip and started swinging his spear, while Kai monitored him with a hawk’s eye.
anwhile, I went inside with the coachman and took a seat in Rihan’s humble ho.
“Sorry there’s nowhere proper to sit,” Rihan apologized.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here expecting five-star hospitality. In fact, I’d rather skip the pleasantries and get straight to business.”
“Ah, please do.” The man nodded and made a vague gesture that said, ‘By all ans, get on with it.’
I glanced over at his mother, coughing in the corner, and began. “I heard your mother’s ill. And that you’re working at the casino to pay for her treatnt.”
“Hans really can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”
He shot the coachman a look and sighed quietly before continuing. “Well, he’s not wrong. Turns out treating my mother costs a whole bunch of money. And the only place that can pay that kind of money is the casino.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. I know it’s the wrong path to take, but what choice do folks like us have? If the pay’s good enough, you do what you must—even if it’s illegal.”
I listened in silence, nodding along.
For a commoner to earn a fortune, they needed either talent or luck—unless they were willing to dabble in sothing illegal.
In that regard, the man was fortunate.
“I’ll give you the money,” I said.
“…Excuse ?”
“I said I’ll give you enough to treat your mother. In fact, you could end up making far more than that.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a piece of paper. Then, as the man blinked at in confusion, I passed it over.
“…What’s this, if I may ask?”
“A letter of delegation. Consider it a golden rope thrown down from the heavens.”
I turned my head casually and looked around for sothing that could pass for a pen.
As it happened, there was a lump of graphite rolling around on the floor. I picked it up and handed it to him.
“Here you go.”
He took the graphite, wearing a baffled look.
Judging by the way he kept staring at , he clearly hadn’t caught up with the plot.
I couldn’t help but let a smile curl at the edge of my mouth.
“My good man. How would you like to beco a rchant Trademaster?”
* * *
Truth be told, this was a plan I’d been considering long before killing Makio.
I was certain that taking control of the Miph rchant Guild through the coachman’s friend would leave no loose ends.
After all, there was no way I could beco the Trademaster myself.
If I took that position, the Artezia lot would be sure to notice my na—and once they did, I’d be dragged into Martin’s ss, no doubt about it.
But if I handed the Trademaster’s seat to just anyone, they’d probably stab in the back.
That’s when the coachman’s friend had caught my eye.
A man who knew the Miph Casino’s secrets, could close his eyes when it suited him, and was loyal enough to tip off his friend.
And as fate would have it, his mother was ill.
It was the perfect setup for slipping on a collar.
After all, a person with a weakness is always ripe for manipulation.
Well, I could already see there’d be a few snags along the way, but that was sothing I’d handle when the ti ca.
The important thing was that, through the coachman’s close friend, I could control the Miph rchant Guild.
I turned to the man, who was still staring at the letter of delegation.
“Sign that, and you’ll beco the Trademaster of the Miph rchant Guild. Naturally, there’ll be resistance, but I’ll take care of all that.”
“…You an I’ll be the Trademaster?” He looked at , suspicion practically dripping from his eyes.
Well, I suppose even the most generous offer looks like a scam when it falls out of the sky and lands in your lap.
I cald the fidgeting coachman beside and continued. “Of course, nothing cos for free. I need to gain sothing too, or it wouldn’t be a fair trade, would it?”
“…But I have nothing to offer you.”
“Ally yourself with the House of Praha.”
I said it with the kind of finality that brooks no argunt.
If he beca the Miph Trademaster and sided with House Praha, my influence within the family would beco much stronger.
Besides, hadn’t I boasted to Lea’s sister, Roxha Praha, that I’d sort out the Miph rchant Guild problem before returning?
So long as he accepted these terms, everything would be resolved perfectly.
“Of course, it’ll only be an empty title. You’ll be a puppet, unable to wield any real power despite becoming Trademaster.”
“…”
“But here’s my promise: I’ll make sure you earn at least ten tis what you do now. And, just as I said from the start, I’ll give you enough money to treat your mother.”
“…”
“So, what’s your answer?”
The man listened intently, then gave a small nod and got to his knees.
He bowed his head low and declared, “I’ll do it. If you’ll save my mother and help earn money, there’s nothing I can’t do.”
Beside us, the coachman blinked, wondering what was even going on.
I ignored the coachman entirely and addressed the man. “From this mont on, you’re the Trademaster of the Miph rchant Guild. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, the deal’s done, so I’ll be taking my leave. There’s still a bit left to do if I’m to make you Trademaster.”
I stood and gave the coachman a friendly pat on the back, telling him, “Wait here. I’ll be back before your tea gets cold.”
“…Huh?” The coachman blinked at dumbly.
I let out a short, amused snort and stepped out of the shack.
Outside, Lancelot was still brandishing his spear, while Kai looked on.
Ah, and Roxen was there too, standing silently and waiting for .
I called out to them. “Let’s go.”
“So I can stop swinging this thing now?!”
“Finish it up when we get back.”
“Aaagh!”
He sounds so happy.
I ignored Lancelot’s dramatic flailing and set off.
My destination: Miph Casino and the Miph rchant Guild.
* * *
“What the—?!”
And so, the casino was completely overturned.
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