Chapter 152

Encounter (1)

Hollow eyes. Dark circles that reached all the way down to the corners of his mouth.

"W-welcome... Lord Adrian."

Adlan greeted me weakly. He looked half dead.

"... Is something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, I've been up all night researching, so I haven't had much sleep, sir."

He perked up as if to show he was fine.

... I felt guilty. As things had turned out, I hadn't needed Adlan's liquor after all. But who could have seen that coming?

"How far has the research progressed?"

"About sixty percent, sir."

Still?

"Since it's different from conventional fermentation, we've had trouble getting the research equipment set up..."

Adlan hung his head and sighed. With so little to show for all the money I'd invested, he seemed frustrated and apologetic himself.

"Is setting up the equipment that difficult?"

"... Well, sir, chestnut beer needs a fermentation temperature of at least fifty-five degrees."

"And?"

"But conventional fermentation equipment warps or breaks above a certain temperature. We need heat-resistant alloys, and there are practically no artisans capable of making them..."

He went on with a complicated explanation. ... I had no idea what he was talking about. But the gist seemed to be that there was a technical problem.

"Adlan, have you ever been to the county?"

"Er... No. I've never been there myself, sir."

"Then come with me this time."

"... Pardon?"

"There are dwarves in the county right now."

"D-dwarves?!"

Adlan's eyes widened like a weasel startled by thunder. Then he trembled like a weasel struck by lightning. His expression said he couldn't understand this sudden mention of dwarves, much less why they were in the county.

Dwarven work occasionally appeared on the market. But dwarves themselves very rarely ventured into the human world. That was probably why he looked like he wanted an explanation, but it was too long a story to tell.

"Come to the county with me and tell the dwarves about the problems you're facing. They'll solve them."

"W-well..."

Adlan opened and closed his mouth several times, then swallowed his questions.

"B-but commissioning dwarves costs an enormous amount! At the very least, tens of millions of gold—"

"I'll take care of the cost."

"Whaaaaat?!"

Adlan jumped in shock.

As he'd said, dwarven commissions cost tens of millions of gold at a minimum. No, forget tens of millions. Without exaggeration, even hundreds of millions might not suffice.

Dwarves weren't greedy for money by nature. They cared only about covering the cost of obtaining ore or making their creations, and coveted nothing beyond that.

But that wouldn't be a problem. Put another way, it meant dwarves valued things other than money.

'Once they taste the chestnut beer, I suspect they'll go wild and demand more.'

Dwarves were a race crazy about liquor. Money or no money, they would obviously build the equipment of their own accord.

"Is that r-really true, sir?!"

"Yes. That should solve the problem, right?"

Adlan didn't answer. His face crumpled like a weasel about to cry.

"T-to go this far..."

His voice trembled.

"For someone like me... Why would you go this far for a lowly nobody like me...?"

"Adlan, you're the president of Predator Merchant Company."

"Buuut..."

"If you're a lowly nobody, that makes me the owner of a lowly nobody's company."

Adlan's eyes widened. Then he scrubbed his face vigorously with his forearm.

"... I swear! I'll do a truly, truly excellent job, sir!!"

"Just keep doing what you're doing. You're already doing we—"

"No, sir!!"

Adlan suddenly clenched his fists.

"I'll sleep less, spend less time eating, and even fast if I have to! I'll do everything perfectly, sir!!"

"You don't need to go that fa—"

"I do, sir!! My dream! Predator Merchant Company's honor! I'll take responsibility and win them both!!"

The eyes that had been welling with tears moments earlier now burned with fiery passion.

"I'd sooner die than fail, sir!!"

I started to say something, then stopped. If I added another word, things might get beyond my ability to handle.

"... Anyway, commissioning the dwarves will solve the problem, right?"

"We could start production tomorrow, sir!"

It probably wouldn't be that quick. Still, the problem was as good as solved.

"Then may I tell you what I came for?"

"Oh, yes! I'll pull my ears out and listen closely, sir!"

Adlan tugged at his ears as though he meant to pull them off. Afraid he might actually tear them, I quickly spoke.

"About the shell trading company."

"By the shell trading company, you mean...?"

The shell trading company that had brought down Kraven, the endowed chair mage responsible for Iliana. It was currently bribing Langrid Mage Tower's elder mages, with the aim of eventually self-destructing to bring about reform within the tower.

"I'm thinking of putting it to use."

Specifically, as a fishing rod to lure out the empire. Runesteel would be the bait. In other words, I intended to use it as a trading company that could come and go within the empire.

At first, I'd planned to go through Predator Merchant Company, but—

'The risk is too great.'

That would expose me directly, and Whitewolf county as well. Anything involving the empire called for extra caution. I needed to grow Predator Merchant Company into a source of funding for the allied army.

Above all, the shell trading company was going to self-destruct anyway. If things went wrong with the empire, I could simply have it self-destruct, so it was perfect for this purpose...

"You mean Crow Dung Pot Trading Company, sir?"

"Crow Dung Pot?"

... What kind of name was that?

"It means exactly what it says, sir. A pot of dung."

"...?"

"It catches the shit from those elder mages whose hearts are as black as crows, sir. Then it all goes bang at once! That's what the company is for. Hehe."

Adlan grinned as if asking whether he'd chosen a good name. Well, the meaning did fit, but—

"I debated calling it Crow Dung Bucket, but Dung Pot has a better ring to it, so that's what I chose, sir!"

... I had no idea what those imperial bastards would think of it.

* * *

It was a bit late to create another shell trading company. In the end, I decided to use Crow Dung Pot. There were various administrative procedures required to qualify it for distribution.

"Leave it to me, sir!"

I left those to Adlan and went back out onto Frecce's streets.

My destination was none other than the mages' guild, where I intended to buy healing potions. Of course, they couldn't improve Seraphia's condition, but they could keep it from worsening. And they could definitely improve Brumbar's condition.

The mages' guild was fairly quiet. When I opened the door and entered, the mage at reception greeted me in a bored voice.

"What're you here for?"

But as soon as he recognized me—

"Welcome, Lord Adrian!!"

He sprang to his feet and bent his waist a full 180 degrees.

Ever since I'd cleaned out Frecce's market last time, there was practically no one in the city who didn't know my face... No, there was no one.

At the same time, the curtain behind reception was flung aside. Someone who appeared to be a high mage hurried out from behind it and rushed over to me.

"I-is there something you're looking for?!"

They were treating me almost as though I were the master of Langrid Mage Tower.

"I've come for healing potions."

"Ah, yes! Please wait a moment!"

He went into the storeroom himself and soon carefully brought out neatly sealed potions.

I didn't even need Predatory Instincts[S] to tell what sort of potions they were.

"Are these made from troll blood?"

"Yes! They're precious potions, and we only have a few left. Hehe."

As expected, they were made from troll blood. It was easy to tell, since troll-blood potions bore a large warning label:

[Don't Drink It. Leave It for Your Skin.]

Trolls were monsters. Thus, potions manufactured from their extracted blood contained the Madness factor. Drinking a troll potion would drive you insane with Madness, just as eating monster meat would. That was why troll potions were only sprinkled onto wounds or applied to the skin as ointments.

Could the Madness imprinted in monsters at the genetic level be removed? That was one of the Twenty-Three Problems of Arcanis, and it had ultimately been resolved with a verdict of "impossible."

But then—

'Could my blood be made into potions?'

... The thought suddenly struck me.

Just as people didn't go insane from eating meat from monsters I'd used Predation[S+] on, perhaps potions made from my blood wouldn't drive them insane either.

'Hmm.'

In my previous life, the Emperor had made potions from ice trolls. But he hadn't solved the Madness problem either. He simply hadn't cared. The Emperor was a slaughter-crazed madman.

The imperial army was merely an army he raised for his own needs. Soldiers driven insane with Madness after drinking regeneration potions were simply put to use as a strategic weapon.

But what if the blood came not from an ice troll, but from me, after I'd used Predation[S+] on one? It might become a Regeneration[B+] potion that didn't drive anyone insane with Madness.

Taking that a step further—

'Couldn't the blood factor for Hyper Regeneration be extracted too?'

A Hyper Regeneration[A] potion, so to speak. I might even be able to create a potion that allowed Non-Native Body Parts.

'If that's possible...'

I would no longer have to build up the 3,200 Sanity required for Berserk[A] every time. I could take a premade Hyper Regeneration potion out of my Inventory and drink it. Then I could create a Bone Blade whenever I needed one.

That would let me combine Monomolecular Blade[S] with Bone Blade. I could use the strongest, finest weapon—one capable of cutting down even an ogre with a single stroke—whenever I wanted.

Of course, I couldn't be sure it would work. Even if it was possible, it wouldn't be easy. But might there be a way? Wouldn't the Mage of Truth, who had mastered every field of magical studies, find some way to do it?

'I should get in touch with her.'

* * *

Langrid Mage Tower. The cradle of all the continent's mages. It was no exaggeration to say that all the continent's magical research and knowledge could be found here.

Accordingly, its systems and rules were strict, and it needed people to systematically manage knowledge passed down over thousands of years.

Archivists.

Theirs was a weighty responsibility: managing Langrid Mage Tower's archives, organizing and preserving completed research and rituals, and recording and storing every new piece of magical knowledge and every research result.

And then there was Gwendolyn, the deputy archivist. She assisted the chief archivist and oversaw the day-to-day operation of the magical archives.

"Iliana, isn't it about time you started organizing the archives?"

"Just let me finish reading this!"

Gwendolyn let out a deep sigh as the familiar routine began again today. Just finish this, her ass. An ogre walking straight past a hatchling would be more plausible.

"Iliana, you'll be up all night again at this rate. It's already been several days—"

"Just this one!"

As expected. An ogre walking straight past a hatchling would be more plausible.

"Then could you at least come collect the letter that arrived for you earlier?"

"Just a moment!"

... And then, nothing.

"I think that moment passed quite some time ago."

Iliana didn't answer. She seemed completely absorbed.

"I'll just read it myself, then?"

Now there wasn't even a sign of movement.

"As for who sent it, it's Adr—"

That was as far as she got.

CRASH! BANG!

CLATTER! THUD! CRASH!

It sounded as though the entire archive was being smashed to pieces. Iliana appeared moments later, her blue hair disheveled and her collar a complete mess.

"G-give it here!"

Iliana hastily snatched the letter from Gwendolyn's hand. With lightning-fast fingers, she tore open the seal and examined its contents.

Who on earth was this Adr— person to make her react like that? Surely it wasn't Adrenaline.

Iliana's blue eyes darted rapidly up, down, left, and right. ... Her speed-reading was astonishing. Beyond human limits. As though she'd actually injected herself with adrenaline—

"I-I'm going out now!"

"... Going out?"

So suddenly?

"Where are you going?"

"Whitewolf cou—mmph! I-it's a secret!"

Iliana tried to cover it up by calling it a secret, but it was already too late.

'Whitewolf county...'

Wasn't that the territory at the continent's northernmost edge?

Gwendolyn knew of it because even Langrid Mage Tower had been buzzing about monster meat. Could the Madness imprinted in monsters at the genetic level be removed? That was one of the Twenty-Three Problems of Arcanis. The overturning of a problem previously declared impossible had caused quite a stir in the tower. ... No, not merely a stir. It had turned the place upside down.

That time had been something else. Just thinking about it made her head throb.

And as far as Gwendolyn knew—

'There were an awful lot of mages who wanted to visit Predator Merchant Company in person, weren't there?'

Every one of them had wanted to discover how the Madness had been removed.

Countless mages had headed to Frecce armed with all manner of dirty tricks, but...

'They said the pressure from the merchants' guild was enormous.'

It hadn't just been the merchants' guild. The miners' and herbalists' guilds had risen up too, as had the seemingly unrelated adventurers' guild. Apparently even the mages' guild had come out in defense of Predator Merchant Company. In effect, the entire free city had risen up.

Against that, even Langrid Mage Tower couldn't act rashly. Like an ogre that had chased a wyvern only to be left staring up at the sky, they had no choice but to leave Predator Merchant Company completely untouched.

... Anyway. She didn't know exactly where the county was, but it was a considerable distance from Langrid Mage Tower. Above all, it was pitch-dark outside now.

"If you leave now, can you get back within a day?"

"... Oh!"

Iliana's eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, that hadn't occurred to her. Seeing things like this, Gwendolyn could understand why people spoke of being book-smart but clueless.

"Then I'll stay overnight!"

"Overnight? For how many days?"

"One... No, two? I'll just go for a couple of months!"

It was an announcement rather than a request for permission. But there was no problem with that. Iliana had recently become a fully qualified mage, and the regulations allowed fully qualified mages to act independently.

"Then the reason for your trip—"

WHOOOSH!

Space suddenly distorted, and Iliana vanished. She had teleported in that brief instant. In other words, she'd disappeared using a teleportation spell.

"Was teleportation always that easy...?"

It wasn't. Setting spatial coordinates for teleportation was by no means an easy task.

Every entity possessing mass bent spacetime. Thus, when setting spatial coordinates, one had to calculate every spacetime variable present on the continent.

Moreover, even things that appeared stationary were constantly moving. Molecular motion. Atmospheric currents. The planet's rotation and orbit. Even the vibrations of spacetime itself. Teleportation had to account for every one of those variables.

That made meticulous calculations and precise computational processes essential, yet—

"She did all that on intuition alone...?"

... Everything Gwendolyn had learned to be common sense in magical studies had just been shattered.