Chapter 20

Translator: Willia

A rough look around Grinnen, and certain things became clear to Valery's eye.

First, the Black Hand's influence was not as great as it had been when he was here before, and second, all manner of organizations were springing up in a chaotic tangle.

People cannot live alone, of course, and so they have no choice but to form communities in order to survive, which is why every city inevitably has one organization or another.

Those who band together by trade, for instance, are called a guild of this or that, and those who band together by their region of origin are called a brotherhood of this or that.

When such organizations reach a balance, peace naturally follows. Conversely, when they fail to reach a balance, peace grows distant. Right now, Grinnen seemed to be one where that balance had failed to hold.

Disputes broke out within organizations, and turf wars broke out between them, and to put it simply, the whole place had a feeling of disorder about it.

At the heart of what had brought about not balance but fracture lay Duke Sven's Embargo. When daily necessities and various goods run short, goodwill runs short right alongside them, as a matter of course.

And that Embargo of the Duke's had come about almost entirely because of a man named Creed, otherwise known as The Ball-Ripper.

Creed had a grip on the southern trade of the city. He jacked up the price of anything he could get his hands on, and on top of that, he went in for River Piracy as well.

River Pirates were no easy thing to police. On land, one could dispatch knights and sweep them clean away, but once they operated on the water, it became a matter of no small difficulty.

On top of that, since Grinnen belonged to the Denbria Marquisate, it was hard for Duke Sven to go so far as to police across the border.

And so he had simply issued a clean ban on all trade.

When it came down to it, both sides took a loss, but one side had no trouble getting by, while the other was left in agony.

Even so, the reason Grinnen held out was that Creed did not care whether others suffered or died.

That was why so many people now lay sprawled and slumped along the streets before Valery's eyes.

"Somehow it's not selling as well as I thought."

Outside the warehouse, along an inner street of the city, Arne had set out a few sacks of salt to sell, and now he spoke up. From the look of the people, it didn't seem like they had any money to spare.

The truth was, it wasn't a matter of not selling well; not a single sack had sold. And this was three days after their arrival.

"They're not holding off because they're satisfied. Anyone can see they're desperate. It's not that they won't buy, it's that they can't. Someone's probably clamping down on it behind the scenes. People are too afraid of reprisal to buy."

Valery said this while tracking some passing child with his eyes.

"Clamping down? Who? The Ball-Ripper?"

"Probably."

"What a nasty piece of work......"

The people of Grinnen looked drained of strength because of the lack of salt. There were even people starving to death, on top of the food shortage, and yet The Ball-Ripper couldn't have cared less.

"Is it because he wants to buy the salt up cheap himself?"

Perhaps his eye for these things had sharpened a little from being around Valery, because Arne offered a guess of his own.

"Could be that, could be caution, could be both."

"Shall I try looking into another way?"

Yorik said. He was in the middle of eating a grilled frog, sprinkling salt over it as he went.

Grilled frog was, in its own way, something of a Grinnen specialty, which was also why the people of Grinnen were saddled with the slur "frog-eaters".

"No. I've got a way of my own."

As he said this, Valery beckoned with a gesture to the child he'd been watching all this while. It was a barefoot kid with grime running down its face in streaks.

The child seemed wary at first, but when Valery kept beckoning, it hesitated and then came closer anyway.

"Take this and eat it with your mother."

Valery pressed a fistful of pure white salt into the child's hand.

At that the child, startled, spoke up as though half worried.

"I don't have a mother."

"Then eat it yourself."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the child darted off with a whirl, without so much as a word of thanks.

Salt in Grinnen right now was worth its weight in gold. In fact it was no longer a necessity but a luxury, so that ordinary folk, rather than wealthy merchants, couldn't afford it.

So when Valery handed some kid salt for free, sure enough, the eyes turned toward the spot from here and there began to change. If nothing else, salt could even be used as currency.

Valery beckoned another child over with a gesture. This one had seen what happened before, so even before being beckoned it wore a look of quiet anticipation.

This time it came over without any hesitation, and Valery again pressed a fistful of salt into the child's hand.

"Th-thanks! Thanks!"

Not quite a perfectly formed word of thanks, but this child bobbed a few little bows before heading off.

"You're just giving it away?"

Arne, who had been watching quietly, asked.

"Yeah. Let's just hand out one whole sack of it for free."

"Why?"

"He's the kind of man who fills his own greed no matter who suffers for it. So how big do you think that greed must be? The thing about men like that is, they feel a bitter sense of loss even over things that were never theirs."

Hearing that, Arne felt as though lightning had struck inside his head. 'Was this Valery kid a real genius?'

Once the salt had been handed out free to two children, every kid in the whole neighborhood swarmed around Valery in the blink of an eye.

Valery pressed a fistful of salt into the hands of every one of them. In a way, it was no different from scattering money.

There soon weren't enough hands to go around, and Arne and Yorik had to hand out salt to the children too.

Eventually the adults came to Valery's group as well.

"Ah, for fuck's sake! The rest of you who already got some, piss off!"

As the whole area grew crowded and chaotic with people, Yorik bellowed out. Honestly, when a job called for foul language, he was a great help.

In any case, in no time a whole sack of salt had begun to run dry. And that was when it happened.

"Hey, you fuckers! Are you gonna get lost or not!?"

This time it wasn't Yorik who swore. Someone had shouted it from beyond the crowd.

At that single shout, the people fled in a terrified rush. It was much like cockroaches vanishing into hiding in an instant. The street fell quiet.

The newcomers were, by anyone's reckoning, thugs. As though they'd lived hard lives, they bore all manner of knife scars on the backs of their hands and on their faces.

One of them tilted his head to the side and came at Valery's group slowly, with a swaggering gait. His face was full of scars, and his nose was turned up so far that his nostrils were visible even head-on.

He looked down at the salt once, then looked back at Valery, and said.

"Who said you could do business here?"

"It's not business, exactly. I was just handing it out."

Valery answered. He glared at Valery, Arne, and Yorik each in turn with a grim face, then spoke to Valery again.

"I'm 'Pug-nose' Ged, and I serve 'The Terrifying' Creed. You've heard of him, I take it?"

At the word Creed, Valery and Arne inwardly thought, this is it. As an aside, Creed hated being called "The Ball-Ripper", and so he called himself "The Terrifying" Creed.

Valery showed absolutely nothing on the outside and answered flatly.

"No."

"You little......"

Pug-nose Ged put strength into his eyes and glared at Valery. Valery showed not the slightest trace of fear or unease.

For that matter, the difference in their looks was so stark that the sight of the two of them facing each other was almost embarrassing to onlookers. If anything, one might say it was Ged who deserved the pity.

When Valery showed no sign at all of being cowed, Ged said.

"It's not fake, is it? Mind if I check whether it's the real thing?"

Did he think they were handing out fake salt to people? It was absurd, but Valery jerked his chin toward the sacks as if to say go ahead and taste it.

At that, he set a little salt on his fingertip, brought it up to his nose, and sniffed it in hard.

"Ssff! Gah!"

Naturally enough, he scrunched up his face as far as it would go and writhed in pain.

At the incomprehensible act, Valery, along with Arne and Yorik, was momentarily thrown.

He said.

"It's real salt, all right......"

"Uh, were you not supposed to taste it with your mouth?"

Arne couldn't hold back his curiosity and asked.

"How am I supposed to know whether it's poison or not? If I tasted it with my mouth and it turned out to be poison, is that not asking me to die? Take me for a fool, do you."

"?"

He hadn't the faintest idea where it had all gone wrong, and so he was simply left speechless.

"Kh! Khng! So, how much are you selling it for, per sack?"

His nostrils stinging, Ged blew out a hard breath through his nose and then asked.

"Ten Gold Coins. I'll take gemstones too. Top grade only."

"A moment ago you were handing it out for free, and for us it's ten Gold Coins. Am I to take it that you see us as fucking shit?"

"Take it however you like."

At that, he crumpled his mouth into a sour shape as if displeased, and said.

"A day. Wait just one day. I'll give you an answer tomorrow. Stop handing it out to people."

"Fine."

At Valery's reply he withdrew, for the moment. As he withdrew, he left behind a word of warning.

"We know the Duke and the Third Young Lord aren't on good terms. Watch how far you push it. Before you really get fucked. Ptooey."

It was a threat that they could do something to the Third Young Lord, who was the one behind the salt trade. Whether he really meant it, or merely could do it, or whether it was simply bluster, was none of Valery's concern.

After they had vanished entirely from sight, Yorik said.

"But, uh...... it felt good."

Wondering what had gotten into the man now, Valery and Arne turned to look, and he went on.

"When we were handing salt out to people, I mean. Strangely enough, it felt good."

"......I felt the same way."

Arne agreed, and Valery made no reply at all. He merely closed up shop for the day and moved the leftover salt into the warehouse.

In a city, it was safer for one's own wellbeing not to wander about at night. This went beyond common sense; anyone who wished to live simply had to abide by it.

And even among such cities, Grinnen ran on the more dangerous end.

To walk the night streets and merely be robbed was to count oneself lucky; to be killed and have one's corpse shoved into the Wetlands meant falling silent forever, with no one left to know the story.

Even if one fell victim to a crime, where was there to plead one's case? Who would hunt down the culprit and hand down the judgment of justice?

Those living in farming villages might be able to go to their Lord and appeal for justice, but even that rarely proceeded without a hitch.

Therefore one had no choice but to protect oneself; when strength fell short, one borrowed the strength of family, and when even that fell short, one borrowed the strength of an organization to realize justice.

To go after those who had harmed or killed one's father, mother, nephew, siblings, or fellow members, and pay them back in kind.

The word justice meant rightful vengeance, and justice was something only those with the power to carry it out ever realized.

It was a world in which power lay closer to justice than truth did.

No wind blew on Grinnen's night. Amid the stillness, figures who wore the black night about them like a cloak stood at the corners of alleys, their wary eyes glinting.

Tap-tap-tap, the sound of someone running; the sound of a cry cut short as a mouth was clamped shut; the crash and shouting from within some household.

In place of wind, only sounds like these could be heard, from near and far.

And in the midst of it all, a man who belonged to no organization was walking the night streets. It was Valery.

He was alone, yet not a shred of tension could be felt in him; he moved with ease. Like a shark gliding through dark waters.

The reason Valery had gone out into the night streets at all was that he had seen the Black Hand's mark. It was a mark meaning they wished to make contact.

When he reached a spot near an underpass that was oddly darker than its surroundings, there was someone who emerged from the underpass wall as though a black shadow had peeled clean away from it.

His form was cloaked entirely in shadow, so that it was like looking at a shadow itself in the shape of a man.

"Didn't I tell you to come by day if you had business?"

Valery asked. At that, the pitch-black shadow answered. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was not a voice Valery knew.

"There are always people around me, you see. I wanted to meet quietly, apart from them. Forgive me."

"So what's the reason you called me out?"

"First, we had long known that His Excellency the Duke was a seasoned man, but we hadn't imagined his reach for information ran this deep. That was our oversight."

He seemed to be taking at face value the nonsense Valery had spouted at Pale. Honestly, there was little else he could do.

"There are things we know about each other, and things we don't. Since you spoke first about what you know of us, this time I'll tell you what we know. First, you didn't come here to sell salt, you came to eliminate Creed. Second, you don't want that fact known."

"So what of it? Are you saying you'll get in my way?"

"No, no...... I'm saying that we can cooperate. We too have been trying to eliminate Creed for a long time now. I'm saying we'll help you."

"To put it plainly, it sounds like you want to use my hand to deal with Creed, and take the profit that comes of it for yourselves."

"Honestly, that's about the size of it."

"I don't know if you realize it, but we can just turn around and leave, and it won't matter to us."

The point being that it was their side in a hurry, not Valery himself. It wasn't bluff; it was simply true.

At that, the one standing beneath the underpass flung something. Though nothing was visible in the dark of night, Valery grasped in a brief instant what it was and caught it in his hand.

It was a leather pouch about the size of a fist, and its contents seemed to be hard little grains. Gemstones, most likely.

"That's the price of twenty sacks of salt. I put in a good deal more than the going rate. Realistically, unless you mean to settle down and live here, you won't be able to take the profits after Creed is dead, will you? A sharp man like you understands that. And on top of this, I'll give you one valuable piece of information."

Valery turned the pouch over in his hand, clink, clink, and asked.

"What is it?"

"The one who sent the kidnappers after the heir of Winsloe was the Second Young Lord. It was carried out with the Duke's permission, of course, but from design to execution it was the Second Young Lord's doing. Policy regarding the Winsloe front has long been his charge."

Valery's expression didn't change in the slightest. Because he knew it was a ploy to give away a valuable piece of information and watch whether the other man wavered emotionally.

This sort of method was a cunning technique peculiar to the Black Hand, meant to grasp an opponent's weakness. Once a weakness was seized, all manner of threats and inducements would follow, relentlessly.

Because Valery knew this, he found it almost funny, and a genuine sneer slipped out of him.

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"......Perhaps we could cooperate further down the line. I'll provide information that could help set the Third Young Lord up as the heir."

When Valery showed not the slightest waver, it was the other man who wavered instead.

His voice didn't tremble or anything of the sort, but from the way he took a guess and dragged Knut into it, unable to fathom in the least what Valery wanted or what he feared, it was plain enough.

"Never mind that. Where is Creed hiding?"

"......He's hiding in the Wetlands. He has more than ten hideouts alone, so pinning down the location isn't easy even for us."

"So drawing him out is the answer after all. Then what help can you give me?"

Valery drove the point home as if the other man were of no use to him whatsoever.

To negotiate, one had to hold the other's weakness, or hold what the other wanted. As things stood, the Black Hand held no weakness of Valery's, nor did it hold anything he wanted.

Cloaked in shadow, he didn't show it on the outside, but the one beneath the underpass felt as though he'd been stripped naked. It was the first time this had ever happened to him.

"......Because you handed out salt for free, Creed is in a real fury right now. That means your tactic hit its mark. There'll be a raid tomorrow, before dawn."

He'd asked earlier that day for a day's time, but he seemed to be scheming to test the waters with a strike before then.

Valery had anticipated an attack to some degree as well, but since he couldn't have known the exact timing, this information proved quite useful.

"Good. That's enough. I'll make contact again if I need to. Next time we meet, don't put on airs and talk as if you know everything for no reason. It isn't even funny."

Valery gave the pouch of gemstones a shake and moved off. It meant that, at least as far as eliminating Creed went, he would accept their cooperation for now.

"......"

The sound of footsteps came, steady, as Valery drew away, and before long he rounded the alley and was out of sight.

At that, several more figures emerged from the darkness beneath the underpass.

"What was that? He's no ordinary one."

"You think he lied about his age?"

"He's tall, but from the face, even if he's lying it's by two or three years. Age isn't the point."

"From Winsloe, superb with a blade, a keen eye, the ability to make a plan and carry it out, and above all, the bold strategy of giving salt away for free. Is there any way to master all of that on your own, without learning it from anyone?"

One of them laid out the information about Valery point by point, and together they searched for its common thread, trying to reason out what kind of person Valery was.

But at the age of fourteen, even one of those abilities alone would be hard to accept, and with all of them present, there was no getting a handle on it.

They made the most rational and reasonable inference they could from what few facts had come to light.

"Count Aethelred, this man is no ordinary figure."

"He may even be a far more fearsome man than the Duke."

Count Aethelred was indeed capable, but their inference had missed the mark almost entirely.