Chapter 160 - Negotiation (2)

A strange silence hangs over us.

If someone suddenly shouts, isn't it only polite to ask why...?

But ever since my battle cry, Mister Dragon has simply kept his mouth shut, putting on a dignified air.

'Come on, you're making this awkward.'

Just as the silence is starting to get uncomfortable...

"... Why did you suddenly shout?"

The brown-haired Mister Dragon withdraws his Dragon Fear and asks. His reptilian eyes make his emotions difficult to read, but he seems genuinely curious.

So you were wondering too, mister.

I answer without hesitation.

"I just felt like it. Why, is there a problem?"

The barbarian's very own cheat code, applicable to any action when explaining the details is too much trouble.

Mister Dragon appears to ponder that for a moment, then chuckles.

"No, no problem. Barbarians truly are a fascinating race, just as I've heard."

His deep, resonant voice brims with dignity.

Then he waves a hand through the air.

WHOOOOSH

A gust springs up, sweeping away all the mist.

What lies beyond it is quite different from what I expected.

Because there's no one there.

All those gleaming eyes had made me think the place was packed with draconic humans.

When I give him a look demanding an explanation, he averts his eyes in apparent embarrassment.

"Let me say first that I was opposed to this childish business."

"Opposed?"

"Ah, well, they said negotiations would be easier if we thoroughly cowed you at our first meeting, or some such."

In short, all those glowing eyes were illusions.

Actually, I could have figured that out earlier if I'd thought calmly. Not only was secrecy my foremost request to Crovits...

But draconic humans are also an exceptionally rare race.

Common sense says dozens of them wouldn't gather in one place just to intimidate me.

"In any case, I owe you an apology. Tsk, all this fuss over saving a little money. I told them repeatedly that we mustn't forget what is right and treat our benefactor that way."

His voice remains deep and resonant, but his manner and the air about him have become incomparably more relaxed.

Was that earlier performance an act, and this his real self?

If so, we might get along quite well.

Still, let's not drop our guard. This could be an act too.

"Let's establish something first. I am Bjorn, son of Jandel. Are you the chieftain of the draconic humans?"

"Chieftain... Yes, that would be your way of putting it. Though I haven't held the position for long."

"Not for long?"

I tilt my head involuntarily.

I'd heard it had been over thirty years since the Dragonslayer killed the primordial dragon and was cursed...

"Isn't the passage of time a matter of perspective?"

Oh, right. Draconic humans were supposed to be long-lived.

I'd forgotten for a moment, since it hadn't really been useful information in the game.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. Time to get to the point.

"Chieftain."

"Please, feel free to call me Firsearaidormouth."

Is calling him that freely even possible?

While I'm privately wondering how on earth to respond, Mister Dragon laughs heartily and reveals his alias.

"A joke. Just call me 'Laphyr.' It's my second name, the one I use in public."

For reference, second names are a custom unique to dragonkin.

Their true names are so long that living in the city made a second name necessary for convenience.

'Ligar Vagos' probably has a much longer real name too.

'Whew. That's a relief, at least.'

I let out a silent sigh of relief.

This is an official meeting, after all.

If he'd demanded I use that whole long name, it would have been a real nuisance.

"Laphyr. If my name's too long for you, call me Jandel or Bjorn, whichever is easier to pronounce."

"I prefer the sound of Jandel."

Anyway, that takes care of introductions.

Just as I'm about to speak, Mister Dragon beats me to it.

"Before we begin, may I see the Dragon Sword? The Followers of Leatlas told me the full story, but I still find it difficult to believe."

For some reason, I can't help smiling wryly.

He phrased it gently enough, but the substance was downright blunt.

'Telling me to my face he doesn't believe me...'

Well, it's not as though I can't understand how he feels.

The man is a major criminal, a member of Orculus with a bounty worth hundreds of millions of Stones. It would be hard to readily accept that a fourth-floor explorer like me beat him up and took his sword.

THUNK!

There's no reason to explain at length, so I take the Dragonslayer Sword from my backpack and drive it into the floor.

'Ow, that stings.'

I held it for only about three seconds, and my skin has already peeled off.

Mister Dragon descends from his throne, pulls the sword out, and holds it.

Then he murmurs quietly.

"It was true."

The complex emotions in those few words seem to wash over my skin.

Should I say he looks solemn, yet lonely?

Well, considering the story behind this sword, it's bound to stir strong feelings.

After standing motionless with the sword for a long time, Mister Dragon plants it back in the floor and asks a question.

"... How was he? You met him most recently, didn't you? I'd like to hear more."

I give him a condensed account of that day, leaving out only the parts that might work against me.

"I see. So he has finally gone that far... Thank you for telling me. As you requested, I shall keep the Dragon Sword's return a secret."

"Were you close to him?"

Mister Dragon smiles bitterly at my question.

"He is... my younger brother."

"What?"

"And so... I couldn't stop him myself."

I want to keep talking and learn more about the Dragonslayer, but apparently Mister Dragon doesn't want to discuss it. He changes the subject.

"Come to think of it, I haven't said this yet. Bjorn, son of Jandel. Thank you for returning this sword. Whatever reward you ask for, we shall consider you our benefactor."

I can tell from his eyes that these aren't empty words.

Well, those reptilian eyes make it hard to be sure, but anyway.

It's rather embarrassing, given that I made this decision solely for the reward...

'But if they insist on treating me as their benefactor, there's no reason to refuse.'

I'll ask later exactly what benefits that entails.

For now, I focus on the conversation at hand.

"So, what do you desire?"

The heart of this meeting, really.

I've given it a lot of thought.

What should I demand for returning the Dragon Sword, a weapon made from tier-six material that means something akin to a sacred relic to dragonkin?

"What can you offer?"

I start by asking.

He might have an offer that changes my mind. Apparently, Mister Dragon has prepared a few options, because he answers without hesitation.

"First, wealth."

Money.

Not bad.

It was one of the three options still in the running before I made my final decision.

Considering that even tier-five weapons start in the hundreds of millions, the reward would surely be enough to outfit me in high-end equipment from head to toe.

But...

"I don't need money."

Mister Dragon gives me a peculiar look at that answer.

Apparently, he hadn't expected me to turn it down.

"Hmm, perhaps that's because you don't realize how much—"

"As I said, money isn't what I want."

The amount doesn't matter.

It won't be worth more than the Dragon Sword anyway.

I'm better off taking something else.

Perhaps sensing my determination, Mister Dragon says no more and moves on to the next reward.

"Second, a companion."

"A companion?"

"Sir Crovits told me you're assembling a new team."

"Get to the point."

"I'll assign one of our people to you for two years."

Now that is a reward I hadn't even considered.

Offering me a companion as compensation?

This race really does know its own worth.

'It certainly is tempting.'

As the battle with the Dragonslayer alone demonstrated, Draconic Tongue makes things possible that no mage or priest can accomplish.

Moreover, draconic humans have high base stats suited to close combat, and a special few can even use magic, something normally exclusive to humans.

Nevertheless, my answer remains unchanged.

"I've already found all my companions."

I don't like the idea of receiving a companion who'll leave after two years as a reward. What I ultimately want is a team united as one.

"She's exceedingly lovely, you know."

Well, what am I supposed to do with that?

I stare at him with that sentiment written on my face. Mister Dragon clears his throat awkwardly and speaks again.

"... Then this is my final offer."

"Let's hear it."

"I'll give you the piece of Arc equipment to be created next year."

Right. I figured that would be the last one.

I'd more or less expected it.

Dragonkin and the metal called Arc are so closely connected that mentioning one brings the other to mind.

Only dragonkin can work Arc.

'The lore said they could create one piece a year through a ritual.'

In that sense, this is actually the most reasonable reward. Give them an Arc longsword I can't use and receive Arc equipment I can.

A deal in which neither side loses.

But...

'If that was what I wanted, I'd have just taken the money.'

Once again, my answer is the same.

"That doesn't sound very good either."

Mister Dragon presses his lips together, apparently never having imagined I'd reject this offer too. He seems unable to think of what else to propose...

So I decide to speak first.

"Forget all that. Just give me a tattoo."

I toss out the words as though it's nothing.

"A tattoo?"

Mister Dragon tilts his head, then his pupils widen horizontally.

Apparently, he's belatedly realized what I mean.

"Don't tell me you mean the Dragon's Blessing?"

Yes, that.

When I nod, the look in Mister Dragon's eyes changes in an instant.

"Jandel, where in the world did you hear about that?"

Whew. Now the real negotiation begins.

* * *

The Dragon's Blessing.

Alongside Draconic Tongue, it's what makes draconic humans overpowered characters.

"The elders were right. Your kind are far too greedy."

Every trace of a smile vanishes from Mister Dragon's face.

Then he unleashes the Dragon Fear he deactivated earlier.

"I should have done this from the start."

The air settles over me so heavily that breathing becomes difficult.

So this is his serious mode?

Perhaps he meant it when he said he opposed that childish stunt. The intensity is on an entirely different level now.

But...

'It's not more than I can handle.'

It's just like before.

Scary enough to make me tremble?

So what?

As long as their ancestral god is with them, barbarians never lose a battle of wills.

"VEHELLLAAAAAA!!!!"

I unleash a battle cry from the depths of my belly, loosening my stiff throat. Mister Dragon gapes blankly.

"What in the..."

"Is there a problem?"

"... Are all barbarians like you?"

The Dragon Fear has vanished before I know it.

Right. He went into serious mode, but not because I genuinely annoyed him.

"Whew..."

Mister Dragon lets his stern expression relax and heaves a deep sigh.

"I'll add a generous sum of money to the Arc equipment. How about that?"

Apparently deciding the stick won't work on me, he offers a fresh carrot.

For reference, I hate carrots.

"I refuse!"

"No, you don't understand. This would be poison to you as well. If your people learn of it, they'll treat you as a traitor."

I've already received an oracle. A bit late to worry about that.

"So calm down a little—"

"Laphyr! Aren't you a descendant of dragons? Stop being stingy and do it! You call me your benefactor, but you can't even do this for me? That's just petty!"

Mister Dragon just stares at me blankly, as though this is his first encounter with the mindless 'Just do it for me!' tactic at a negotiating table.

I seize the opportunity to strike his Achilles' heel.

"The Goddess of the Stars said Ligar Vagos and I would meet again. That a powerful ill-fated bond connects us."

"... The Goddess of the Stars? Is that true?"

"I need to grow stronger. So I don't lose another companion to your brother."

Even I think that's a pretty despicable thing to say, but what can you do?

Negotiations are won by those willing to play dirty cards without hesitation.

And when you get down to it, nothing I said was wrong.

"Laphyr, you said earlier you couldn't stop your brother yourself, didn't you? Invest in me. I'll do what you couldn't."

With that, I stop pestering him.

Mister Dragon slips back into contemplation, and it lasts quite a while.

"... Perhaps this too is the price of my past deeds."

The murmur escapes him like a lament.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

"... First, I must confirm with the temple that the oracle is real. Then I'll summon you again. This isn't something I can decide alone."

Fair enough.

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"I don't know. A month? Two? I'll reach an answer and let you know as soon as possible."

"I'll hold on to this until then."

"Go ahead."

He agrees far more readily than I expected.

I pull the Dragonslayer Sword out and put it back into my backpack. Then, after asking how to contact him again and a few other things I've been wondering about, I wrap up today's negotiations.

"This is a message stone. When I contact you, tear the paper I just gave you. That will let me know where you are."

"All right."

Then Mister Dragon uses a teleportation-type Draconic Tongue again and sends me back to my room at the inn.

'... Every last Draconic Tongue really is overpowered.'

With that thought, I strip off my equipment and lie down on the bed to rest for a moment.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

A knock sounds at the door.

That means an unfamiliar visitor.

Misha would have just opened the door, and Aynar would have gone 'BANG, BANG, BANG,' not 'knock, knock, knock.'

"Good to see you."

When I open the door, I find a familiar woman's face.

"Julie Urbans?"

Otherwise known as the district manager's daughter.

A truly unfilial child who wishes for her father's downfall so she can live freely.

"So, have you changed your mind?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I checked, and I hear your team disbanded. That mage died too. Did that Rotmiller fellow do something?"

Oh, so that's why she came back without tiring of this.

I suppose it could look that way from the outside.

"His name isn't 'that mage.' It's Leor Wuerv Dwalki. And while it's true your father tried something, Rotmiller didn't go along with it."

First, I set the facts straight.

But after doing so, I realize it's about time I dealt with this problem too.

Even if he tries something again, I doubt Mister Bear or Raven will readily fall for it...

But leaving this alone will only turn it into a bigger nuisance.

'Might as well do it now, while it's on my mind.'

"Where is your father right now?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. At this hour, he's probably at the main branch in District 7, wouldn't you say?"

Having obtained only the information I need from Lady Urbans, I order her out.

"You can go home now. And don't come back. I have no interest in getting tangled up in your family's affairs."

"What? What do you mean...?"

"Exactly what I said."

When she first visited, I thought her father simply held a grudge against me over the prison break.

But thinking back, the timing was suspicious.

She must have been the reason the district manager suddenly turned hostile toward me after all those months.

"I told you before. Our interests align, don't they?"

"Enough. Get out."

After forcibly throwing Lady Urbans out, I put back on the equipment I'd stripped off.

CREEEAK.

When I open the door and step out, Lady Urbans is standing right there.

"Are you going to see my father, by any chance?"

"Yes. I'm going to confront him."

"But why the weapon...?"

I tilt my head.

Why would I leave my weapon behind when I'm going to confront someone?