Chapter 24 - An Expensive Commission

“Just try drinking it once, will you?”

The man held out a glass bottle. The dark red blood inside sloshed.

A Black Mage who had drunk both Demon and demon-beast blood...

'Fuck... He's real. He's the real thing.'

His calm voice sent goosebumps all over Shern.

Demon blood was notorious in the Black Magic Society. According to the story, ten Black Mages had drunk it: eight died, one went mad, and the last disappeared.

Yet here he was, casually offering it to them.

“Why won't you drink it? What could be more efficient than firsthand experience?”

If anything, the man was scolding them.

“I-if it's really not dangerous, drink some yourself!” Farntal shouted in a trembling voice.

A glimmer of yearning showed through the fear on Farntal's face.

'Farntal, you lunatic!'

Shern let out a small shriek.

“There doesn't seem to be much. Are you sure I can have it?”

The man shook the bottle as he asked, as though seeking permission to drink something so precious. The chilling incongruity left Shern and Farntal unable to answer. They merely nodded.

“Good. Oh, do you have any candy?”

“... Candy?”

“Anything sweet.”

Shern, who had a sweet tooth, took out a few candies and all but tossed them to him.

“Thank you. This tastes awful.”

Without hesitation, the man downed the demon-beast blood in the glass.

“... He actually drank it.”

Shern let out a horrified groan at the sight. The man casually popped a candy into his mouth.

Downing demon-beast blood like liquor, then eating candy to chase away the bitterness...

It felt as if everything Shern knew had been turned on its head.

“This formula is wrong. The mana concentration is a little lower. Expressed mathematically—are you listening?”

“... What? Yes!”

“Lower the concentration a little more. Actually, the formula itself is nonsense. There's no baseline. A baseline!”

He had even gone straight to pointing out errors in their calculations.

'Has the demon-beast blood gone bad?'

Perhaps thinking along similar lines, Farntal picked up a bottle containing the same demon-beast blood the man had drunk.

“I-is it really safe?”

“It hurts a little, but you just need to keep your wits about you.”

After a long hesitation, Farntal swallowed the demon-beast blood in one go.

“Hmm. Drinking it all at once will be rough. Such youthful spirit.”

“You should have told me that be...”

Farntal's mouth stopped moving.

Farntal's eyes widened as though they would split. Blood vessels stood out across them, and tears streamed down. Unable to breathe, Farntal could only make choking noises.

“Ah, you're fine. It may feel as though every blood vessel is on fire, but that's an illusion. It's only pain. Concentrate. Press down on the mana.”

“Ghhh...”

Farntal's limbs trembled amid strangled gasps. Veins bulged across the face, and Farntal rose rigidly onto tiptoe. It was such a horrific sight that Shern could not imagine the pain involved.

“You're fine. It's demon-beast blood, not Demon blood. It's even been sitting around for quite a while. Why all this fuss?”

'A... fuss?'

Someone trembling uncontrollably on tiptoe could hardly be exaggerating.

“Now, it's simple. Imagine your mana is in your heart. Imagine pressing firmly down on it. It's rather like the feeling when you've breathed in as far as you can. Follow along. Out... in... out... in... Do it properly. Do you want to die?”

By then, Farntal's head had snapped upward. A grotesque sound of twisting bones rang out. The skin rose as though the bones were being pulled out beneath it.

“Hmm. This won't do. I'll help you just this once.”

The man placed a hand over Farntal's heart. Veins bulged across his hand, and Farntal's breathing quickly steadied.

Farntal slumped to the floor. Shern hurried to offer support.

“Farntal! Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

It took a little while for Farntal to recover. The man was reading Farntal's research report.

“... That's right. The coefficient was too high. We set the margin of error wrong.”

As soon as Farntal recovered, the research talk began. Urged on by Farntal, Shern checked the report.

'If we change the coefficient... It works.'

The problem that had plagued them was solved in an instant. The man had been right.

“This.”

The man pointed at Farntal's report. Farntal struggled desperately upright and approached him.

“The human mana coefficient table is blank here.”

“Ah, we're still preparing our human research. That material was lost in an attack by a certain organization...”

“I see. May I have a pen?”

“Yes!”

Taking the pen from Farntal, the man began writing in the report. Farntal normally loathed anyone tampering with the research, yet now simply watched, looking almost expectant.

A little later, the man handed the report back.

“There's a slight error, but it should be within acceptable limits.”

The empty table had been completely filled in. Nor was that all. Right then and there, he added more material on the following pages.

All of it had been lost during the attacks by that organization—material essential to their research that they had struggled in vain to obtain.

His knowledge meant one of two things: he belonged either to that organization or to the central body, the upper echelon of the Black Magic Society.

No member of that organization would be sitting here correcting their report.

Which meant...

“Are you from the central body?”

The deputy branch chief had ignored procedure to admit him. He knew Demon and demon-beast blood intimately, could drink the latter without ill effect, and possessed information they had lost.

Everything pointed to his being from the central body.

“That's a secret.”

At an answer that was as good as confirmation, Shern and Farntal swallowed hard.

The central body...

Their lips went dry at encountering something they had known only through legends.

“What brings someone from the central body all the way here...?”

“Why do you think?”

The man turned the question back on them, looking relaxed, as if testing them.

“To purge all the rotten bastards!”

Farntal's rough voice seethed with anger. The man crooked a finger, inviting more.

“The Society is obsessed with mana stones! Research is an afterthought! It's full of rotten bastards who think a mana-stone staff is something to boast about! They even force mining quotas on us researchers!”

The words poured from Farntal's mouth like blood. Long-held grievances lent the voice a desperate intensity.

The man nodded.

“I'm preparing a reform.”

Reform. Shern softly repeated the sweet, exhilarating word.

“Mana stones are fine things. Stones that fetch whatever price you ask, aren't they? But they're still only stones. Do you think a lump of rock will unlock the truth?”

His voice carried conviction. Shern nodded in a daze.

“You're the only useful ones here. The rest are sham Mages licking magical devices.”

Farntal shuddered at his approval. Wasn't that reaction a little excessive? Shern frowned slightly.

“I will cut away the rotten flesh so new flesh can grow. Farntal, you pass.”

At being singled out, Farntal cried out fervently, eyes brimming with tears.

“I knew this day would come!”

Farntal had joined the Black Magic Society to venerate advancement. Yet research had been sidelined, and more and more days were spent swinging a pickaxe at the magic-stone deposits. To an embittered Farntal, those words were irresistibly sweet.

“Farntal, give me your hand.”

“Thank you!”

The man grasped Farntal's wrist. Fierce sparks shot from his hand in succession. The magic was both spectacular and exquisitely precise.

Such intricate magic, without even a spell formula...

'The central body, all right!'

“Done. This is your seal.”

A striking lightning-shaped scar marked the inside of Farntal's wrist. Looking at it, Farntal shed burning tears.

“Wh-what about me?!” Shern asked urgently.

“There is one condition.”

The man pushed forward a bottle of demon-beast blood.

“Show me your sincerity.”

Shern swallowed hard. It was a brutally crude test, but precisely for that reason, there was no way to cheat.

“Drink, Shern!”

Farntal, who had always been kind to Shern, shouted with a wild-eyed glare.

Under that pressure, Shern gulped down the demon-beast blood.

It was like swallowing fire. Not ordinary fire, but fire bristling with thorns. Agony swept through Shern, as though every part inside was being torn apart and burned. For a moment, consciousness grew distant.

Then the pain slowly subsided.

Looking up to meet the man's untroubled gaze, Shern finally understood Farntal's madness. Awe was only natural before someone who could so casually subdue pain like this.

“You pass as well.”

Shern and Farntal looked at each other and nodded. All their past humiliations melted away.

“Now, you report directly to me. Congratulations.”

They nodded, their faces more solemn than before.

“For now, remain here and go about your lives as usual. Compile information on the branch. Particularly Corton.”

Shern and Farntal nodded.

“Oh, may I have some paper? Thank you.”

“Of course!”

The man began writing rapidly on the blank sheet.

“Your baseline is Mana Arrow. Use this to research Demon blood. You can work with demon-beast blood, so this should suffice.”

“Of course!”

Shern's eyes widened. It was detailed information on Demon blood. He had merely dashed it off, yet it was precisely what they needed.

“Oh, human research is forbidden. There's word that a certain organization is closing in. If anyone is conducting such research, make a separate note of them. Always remember reform.”

At his serious tone, both nodded solemnly.

“I'll visit again.”

The man rose, speaking softly. Just then, the door opened and Deputy Branch Chief Corton appeared.

The man smiled as though nothing had happened.

* * *

“How was the research?”

“Not bad.”

For an agent like Galahad, swaying Mages who did nothing but research was easier than turning over his hand. With their own information at his disposal, it was easier still.

Winning people over was his specialty.

'That's one laboratory set up.'

Their research was currently abysmal. All those mana stones and expensive magical devices had raised his expectations, only to disappoint him.

Still, they were useful. He had given them direction and information on Demon blood; by his next visit, they should have results. He had even tasked them with watching Corton. He could hardly ask for more.

'I need two burrows.'

Once he hooked Corton, he could plant loyal subordinates on both sides and have them watch each other.

Corton checked outside, then locked the door.

“I'll get straight to the point,” he said, wearing an incongruously serious expression.

“Kill Adrianna.”

The request was so direct that Galahad let out a low hum. Asking him to kill Adrianna out of nowhere...

“Whew... Some very powerful people want Adrianna dead. Dispose of her, and they'll reward you handsomely.”

It had to be Dawn.

“Just how powerful are these people?”

Corton grinned.

“Do you think we're researching Demons for no reason?”

Galahad realized why Corton had shown him the research. The Empire strictly prohibited Demon research, rooting out anything of the sort.

To conduct it anyway...

'He was showing me they're powerful enough not to bow to the Empire.'

Dawn seemed larger than he had thought. Galahad put a cigarette between his lips and sorted through his thoughts.

'Dawn put a bounty on Adrianna. The reward must be substantial. She's the greatest hidden threat to them.'

Their greedy friend Corton apparently intended to proceed without informing the branch chief.

'He wants it all to himself.'

Which meant secrecy was guaranteed.

'A request to kill Adrianna...'

A rich lemon scent filled the air. Considering all the circumstances, the request was...

'Not bad.'

It was quite a good offer.

Of course, he had no intention of actually killing Adrianna. He doubted it was even possible. It was, however, an opportunity to approach Dawn.

Accepting immediately would be unwise, so he asked a question.

“What's in it for me?”

“... For you? Oh, yes. Of course!”

Judging by the stammering, Corton hadn't considered Galahad's reward. The man truly was hopeless.

“This is a request from someone extremely important. Succeed, and you'll receive rewards beyond imagining. You saw all those mana stones lying around, all those expensive magical devices, didn't you? Your reward will be greater still!”

Vague promises of rewards never ended well. Of course, this time he would never be collecting it anyway.

“A reward... How wonderful. But as you know, my position is all show. To find an opening, I'd have to get close to Adrianna, and that's...”

“Didn't you say you even held hands?”

“I nearly died doing it. Don't you know what northerners are like?”

Corton grinned at his answer.

“Don't worry about support. Tell me anything you need.”

Galahad laughed heartily at Corton's confident expression.

“You really are dependable!”

“Ha ha! I'm the deputy branch chief. With the chief away, this place is mine. Didn't you see all the mana stones and magical devices on the way?”

As Galahad listed what he needed, Corton's laughter gradually faded.

A little later, instead of silver coins, Corton held out a hideous egg the size of a finger.

“An egg of agony.”

“An egg of agony?”

“Something obtained from a high-ranking Demon. Swallow it, and if you break the oath you make, you die in excruciating pain.”

Corton spoke confidently.

Galahad had wondered why Corton was trusting him so readily. Apparently, he had prepared a safeguard of his own. Something from a high-ranking Demon certainly justified confidence.

However...

“You die in excruciating pain if you break your oath? Who decides what constitutes breaking it? Does this tiny thing have a brain to make judgments? Or does it read a person's emotions? Could it be a type of magic?”

Under Galahad's barrage of questions, Corton sensed something was wrong. Far from being frightened by the hideous thing, Galahad's eyes were shining—as though he had discovered something exceedingly precious.

“Ah, my apologies. Hmm. From a high-ranking Demon, you say...”

Somehow, the egg of agony was already in Galahad's hand. Corton shivered faintly as he watched him inspect the dreadful object as carefully as a gemstone.

“Right, eat it and swear an oath. Understood.”

Galahad swallowed it casually.

GULP.

At that unhesitating act, Corton swallowed hard.

Then Galahad looked at Corton with somber eyes and swore.

“If you wish it, I will kill Adrianna.”

There seemed to be an odd condition attached, but the substance matched, so Corton nodded.

“Oh, so that's how it works. A high-ranking Demon... Such mana concentration. This is truly remarkable.”

Galahad was feeling his own throat.

“Can you get another one?”

“What on earth are you talking about—”

“I think I'll understand if I eat one more. Do you have another?”

As Galahad smacked his lips, Corton rose as though fleeing.

* * *

“Sir Gilberton, we have a serious problem.”

Gilberton squinted at Tom's grave tone.

“Why? Has the commander caused trouble?”

“What? No, sir.”

“Then has Gwen burned down the barracks again?”

“Oh, she's doing it outside.”

“Did Damian say he was hungry?”

“What? No, sir. Please look at this.”

Tom held something out: a yellowed sheet of parchment covered in writing. Gilberton slowly read it.

“Special Operations Unit account ledger? We had one of these?”

“Oh, I had some time, so I put it together. No one seemed to be doing it... I'm sorry if I overstepped.”

He had drawn up an account ledger because he had time to spare? Gilberton couldn't follow that train of thought. He slowly examined the ledger. Two lines of figures were enough to make him dizzy.

“What's the problem?” he asked, handing it back to Tom.

“We're about to run out of funds.”

“Run out? Didn't you say we received operating funds with the carriage?”

“Yes, but unit budgets are allocated according to achievements, aren't they?”

“Hmm. That's right.”

Gilberton nodded for the moment.

“But when we received our budget, we hadn't achieved anything yet, had we?”

“We hadn't.”

“So the allocation itself was small.”

“I see.”

Finally understanding, Gilberton nodded.

“Our achievements won't be reflected until next quarter, will they?”

“That's right.”

“Our unit costs far too much to run. I understand your pay, Sir Gilberton, given that you're from the First Battalion, but Damian's and Gwen's are unusually high.”

All this talk of money was giving Gilberton a headache.

“Add Damian's food expenses and the repairs to your armor, and... At this rate, we'll be bankrupt.”

The word “bankrupt” came through clearly. Gilberton nodded.

“So we'll be bankrupt.”

“What? Ah, yes. That's correct.”

“Why go on so long instead of getting to the point?”

“Ahaha... In any case, we must find a solution.”

“A solution?”

“Yes. For instance, your armor was damaged while helping the Fourth Battalion with its mission, so we should bill them for the repairs. As for Damian's food expenses...”

The baffling talk continued for quite some time. Gilberton nodded as though he more or less understood.

“So you agree, Sir Gilberton.”

“With what?”

“... The pay cut.”

“Cut my pay? What are you talking about?”

The corners of Tom's mouth stiffened slightly.

“Er... Never mind.”

“In short, we don't have enough money.”

“Yes, that's right.”

All that talk over such a needless worry. Gilberton clicked his tongue.

“The commander will handle it.”

“But even the commander is in the North here. How could he find the money...?”

Just then, the barracks entrance flap lifted, and Galahad came in.

“Oh. Welcome back, sir.”

Tom rose and greeted him respectfully. Gilberton dipped his head.

“Things took a little longer than expected. Where are Damian and Gwen?”

Galahad handed Tom a large leather bundle as he asked.

“Training, sir.”

“Hard workers. Why are you in such shabby barracks?”

“For visitors from another unit, this is good treatment.”

“Barracks that smell this damp count as good treatment? There's a dreadful smell coming from... Sir Gilberton, did you wash your feet properly?”

“Why would I wash my feet?”

“Appalling. That's why you're unpopular.”

Then Tom screamed.

The bundle fell from Tom's hands and burst open. Glittering objects spilled out in a torrent: gold coins, silver coins, even faintly glowing stones.

Gilberton's eyes widened almost to splitting at a sum greater than any he had seen in his life.

“Wh-what is this? I wondered where you'd gone—did you rob the Fifth Battalion?! Damn it!”

Gilberton seized his sword and sprang up.

“What do you mean, rob them? I accepted a commission.”

“... What kind of commission pays that much?”

At Gilberton's suspicious question, Galahad gave a small cough.

“That's a secret.”

The amusement in his answer made Gilberton deeply uneasy.