Chapter 282 – Clue (1)
The happiness level of the autonomous territory was plummeting.
As the citizens' lives grew harsher, commerce shrank, and it was obvious that the parasitic powers clinging to them would also suffer.
In such a situation, Verden's words—that he would pay performance bonuses proportional to the value of the information brought—became law.
"What's happening with the market district in the southwest? Who went there?!"
"That was Tif..."
"That, quick-witted thief...! Before that bastard strips it clean, get over there and search every corner! Now!"
More than several hundred people moved in a hurry.
They carefully, or sometimes boldly, questioned and pried information from ordinary citizens, guards, knights, nobles alike.
Everyone struggled to obtain information by whatever method they pursued, and at the very least, ran around trying hard just to grab hold of a rumor that sounded plausible.
Of course, there were likely some groups who tried to fabricate information for money.
But not a single one among them dared to deliberately falsify intelligence. The reason was simple—no one wanted to die.
The title "King of the Underworld" carried overwhelming weight.
Moreover, the story of two organizations that had gotten cocky and were completely crushed had already spread widely.
Among the tidings learned naturally while searching for clues:
"Madam Nereine headed toward the northeast hill street, what should we do?"
"Did she get the jump first...? No choice. Then we head for southeast sector 3."
"But Siamon already went there."
"Damn it!"
Thus, competition was fierce, but there were no significant conflicts.
The eight factions that had taken action had established an unspoken rule of first come, first served, preventing overlapping areas of activity in advance.
At most, quarrels broke out now and then.
Everyone understood clearly that unnecessary clashes, breaking the flow, would surely displease the higher one.
Instead, in pursuit of more important and secret information, they sometimes chose cooperation between factions—something they had never done in their lives.
"Money! Money!"
A dread of reaching Roafra's summit, which they had only ever heard about.
An atmosphere laden with expectation—that with information, intangible as it was, one could earn immense wealth. Some even celebrated with bundles of cash in their hands.
Even after days passed, the feverish atmosphere did not cool.
One faction, clumsy at hiding things, moved so openly that even residents of the territory began to notice something strange.
Thus, for the first time in a long while, the entire autonomous territory began to stir.
Exactly as Verden had intended.
And yet, there were two men whose faces had gone pale.
Baldar and Frankie.
The leaders of the two groups who had picked a fight with Verden at the tavern. In a dark room, they drank heavily and exchanged gloomy words.
"Damn it, why did the king have to show up at that tavern, at that time? Maybe... yeah. What if the smuggler deliberately set it up, just to see us get screwed?"
"I heard it was just coincidence. It was the same day Padreld arrived in the territory, so he wouldn't have heard much yet. He had no reason to target us in the first place."
"Hah, so you're saying we just had bad luck, got marked by the King of the Underworld? What a truly cursed life."
They blamed others, they tried to think positively, but their mood did not improve.
Brody had picked a fight, they hadn't stopped him but watched, and eventually they themselves had drawn weapons and rushed in—all of it was their own doing.
They had simply acted as usual... but they had picked entirely the wrong opponent.
Gulp, gulp.
Baldar drained the bottle in one go and wiped his mouth.
"Hey, Frankie. You just going to sit around and rot like this?"
"...What else do you suggest?"
"We should get out there and do something too, follow the flow."
Frankie sneered bitterly.
"Hah, with all this crap going on, do what? Wouldn't it be more productive to think about how to escape the territory?"
"You mean to ignore orders? Make the same mistake twice, that sounds like an even worse move to me."
"Damn it, then what the hell can we even do? With the others scouring the whole territory, is there even a scrap left for us to pick up? Even if we find something, it'll probably be a duplicate. Better to just shut up, lie low, and hope they let it slide..."
"Sure, if it's duplicate then it's worthless. Might even put eyes on us. But what if there's a place no one has searched yet?"
Frankie froze for a moment.
"What? Where?"
"The territory's underground sewer."
Baldar popped a cork with his finger and continued.
"I checked in secret, no one's gone in yet. Guess it never even occurred to them. Why would they, when you could get more by grabbing someone and questioning them, rather than going down there?"
"Crazy bastard, of course not! Why would anyone willingly go into that filthy, dangerous place? Even if you tried, the Rat, Retz, that bastard would poison the place and raise hell. You think you can handle that?"
"No, not without a priest of the Luas Church or an antidote potion. Unfortunately we've got neither. But you've heard too, right? The Rat's been missing for quite a while now."
Baldar twisted his lips as he poured another drink.
"Right now, the sewer is empty."
"But even without Retz, inside there are filth and abnormal species..."
"So what? Do we have any other choice?"
The two of them could not have argued if they had been killed that day at the tavern.
But with broad mercy, their lives had been spared—even Brody, who had run his mouth recklessly.
Only, no one could know when that mercy might be withdrawn.
"Our heads could roll tomorrow. If we try to run, it could be today instead. So before that happens, we need to prove our usefulness somehow. Tell me I'm wrong."
He wasn't wrong. It was the very definition of reason.
After a long moment's thought, Frankie finally gave a slight nod.
"...Bring boots. Damn long ones."
***
Stacks of documents arrived every hour, piling up in one corner of the room.
The sheer volume of information gathered by hundreds moving desperately could not be ignored. Even more so since much of it was uncertain, mixed with unreliable fragments.
Verden stored all of it in his mind.
With a memory that forgot not even a single letter, he could accomplish in real time what no one else could dare attempt alone.
He cross-checked, he analyzed.
Rather than relying on his own subjectivity, Verden chose information as objectively as possible, grounded in the perspective of the territory's residents.
'First, the Rainbow-hued Inn.'
Unfortunately, there was almost no information to be found related to it.
On the day of the fire, those who had been in charge of guarding the inn had all disappeared, as if they had gone missing.
At the time, a few vagrants had loitered nearby, but nothing particularly unusual was said to have happened. Vagrants, having no proper dwellings, could be found anywhere without raising suspicion.
'It seems certain that it wasn't an accident, but nothing is clear.'
It was suspicious, but for now, it had to be set aside.
There was too little information to take any action.
Next, the Mamentus Merchant Guild.
This, at least, yielded some harvest.
'Most of it is garbage... but a few pieces look usable.'
Nereine lured wealthy clients and nobles through the brothels, while Tif used his thief-hardened gang to move in secrecy.
Professional methods of information gathering, comparatively speaking.
In that way, they succeeded in finding clues regarding 'the connection between the Mamentus Merchant Guild and the Lord of the Autonomous Territory'.
'Summing up, three in total.'
First, before his death, the guild master of the Mamentus Merchant Guild had several private meetings with the Lord of the Territory. According to a witness, the guild master's face had looked extremely troubled.
Second, a close aide of the guild master had once gone into the eastern residential district.
Two burly men in robes stood guard at the door, their posture upright, like knights. When the aide eventually emerged from the building, his face was extremely bright—utterly opposite to that of the guild master.
That aide, too, died alongside the guild master.
Third, all assets owned by the guild were being disposed of rapidly, as though pressured by external force.
Some of the hastily sold land, buildings, and shares had been bought up, falling into the hands of the Lord of the Territory.
At this point, anyone could see it.
Something had indeed occurred between the Lord of the Territory and the Mamentus Merchant Guild.
And in a very negative sense.
'This alone is enough to convict with circumstantial evidence.'
The Midros Autonomous Territory was an independent domain, under the influence of the magic towers.
After its establishment, the Bohemirn Magic Tower had managed, by force of power and authority, to plant its roots.
The lord of that previous generation would not have been able to refuse.
In time, after two generations, the domain passed to his son.
Ordinarily, the relationship with the Bohemirn Magic Tower should have continued without disruption. Yet at present, it clearly was not so.
If it had been, then the Mamentus Merchant Guild, in which the Bohemirn Magic Tower held shares, would never have collapsed overnight like this.
The same went for the Rainbow-hued Inn.
Which meant.
'The Lord of the Territory has abandoned the Bohemirn Magic Tower, and joined hands with the other two magic towers.'
The towers of the Volcanic Island and the Larrian Magic Tower, who had aided in the creation of the territory.
These, extending their influence across the eastern continent, would have guarded fiercely against the Bohemirn Magic Tower encroaching on their spheres.
Thus, taking advantage of Bohemirn's misfortunes, they might well be attempting to erase its influence completely.
'Of course, the two towers would never officially declare enmity with the Bohemirn Magic Tower....'
They must surely be using a third party.
A faction unafraid to oppose the Bohemirn Magic Tower—perhaps the very group Verden was seeking.
'I cannot be certain yet, but it is the most likely hypothesis.'
Verden immediately summoned Padreld.
"You called, Master Asher."
"From now on, focus collection of information on the Mamentus Merchant Guild. Even the smallest scraps will be rewarded. And you—gather trustworthy men and build a secret surveillance net."
"A surveillance net? May I ask whom we are to surveil?"
"Ourselves."
Catching a fish hidden in the river is difficult.
All the more if it stays out of reach.
So, bait was cast to draw the prey near, and nets spread wide on all sides.
The moment it stirred and showed itself, escape would be impossible.
Would it be the Lord of the Territory caught, the two magic towers, or the third force?
And a few days passed.
"Master Asher, we are being tailed."
The bite had come.
***
"...How are the back-alley scum?"
"They are still tearing apart the Mamentus Merchant Guild, as though they mean to rip open the guild master's grave itself."
The Lord of the Territory pressed his forehead, his brows furrowing.
This sudden upheaval seemed to give him a splitting headache.
What troubled him most, above all, was the presence lurking behind the trash scattered through the alleys.
The summit of Roafra.
The War Mage Asher, called the new King of the Underworld.
'What business could he possibly have in the territory? No, more than that—what is he trying to learn, using his underlings?'
Why would a man enthroned in the Underworld pry into the Mamentus Merchant Guild? And so openly, at that.
It could only mean he cared nothing for the authority of the territory.
An untrue king, scorning him, a true noble and lord—it boiled his blood, but stronger than anger was doubt.
The reason for his sudden appearance and intrusion was utterly unclear.
'Never imagined such interference.
Already the two towers were pressing me to handle things swiftly...! The emergence of this wholly unexpected man left me reeling.'
The knight, Rentiha, spoke.
"Then allow me to lead the order and deal with it directly."
"...Deal with whom?"
"That false king. A mere ruler of the underworld dares to sniff at my lordship—under the laws of the territory, it would be reason enough for execution."
The Lord's face twisted into a grotesque grimace.
Yes, knights too were nobles. Their sense of superiority often blinded them.
By contrast, the Lord had at least a vague sense of the danger his opponent posed.
Even if one dismissed the rumors as exaggeration, anyone who could so swiftly dominate the entire underworld and mobilize it was not to be underestimated.
"Cut the foolishness, Rentiha. He isn't called King of Roafra for nothing. This is not something you, nor I alone, can handle or decide."
The Lord of the Territory let out a deep sigh.
Then he cast his gaze out the window.
Far off, two spires came into view. When judgment was difficult, passing the choice to others of similar standing was always an easy way to avoid responsibility.
"Let us consult with the two towers. Summon them both."
The territory stirred.
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