Chapter 79

Finding the Spirit Stone (2)

“Interesting.”

Isaac’s eyes rapidly scanned through the ledgers.

“Next.”
“Next.”
“Next.”

Venders stared at Isaac with a dumbfounded expression.
Not that it would change anything.

“Do I really have to do this myself?”
“Do you have someone trustworthy?”
“…Not exactly.”

Venders looked displeased.
He had risen to the position of a market lord, and had once been the head of a great family—so why should he be running errands for Isaac?
But he couldn’t refuse either.

Aside from Venders, there was no one suitable to review the black market transaction records.
Even if there had been, most were either dead or burning with hatred and hostility toward Weissman.
In the end, Venders was the only viable option.

“Do you actually know what you’re looking at?”
“What, do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than pretend to read in front of you? Next.”

In less than an hour, Isaac had gone through three years’ worth of ledgers.
At this rate, it wouldn’t even take two hours to review ten years’ worth.

Venders found it hard to believe.
As expected of black market records, every transaction was encrypted.
The contents, a mixture of ancient language and common tongue, were already hard enough to decipher—on top of that, multiple encryption methods were layered together.
Even worse, the codes varied depending on the trading partner.

Unless someone had been immersed in this world for a long time, it was nearly impossible to grasp the contents at a glance.
And even then, only if they knew how to decrypt them.

“If there’s something you don’t understand, you could just ask.”
“Caesar, Atbash, Vigenère, polyalphabetic ciphers, word substitutions… it’s all just combinations of these.”
“…You can really tell all that at a glance?”
“With a bit of attention, it’s nothing difficult.”

“…Hah.”

Venders let out a hollow laugh.
Normally, people would decrypt the ledger into a separate document and then burn it after reading.
Just going through a single ledger could take an entire day.

But Isaac was merely skimming through them, already flipping past dozens of volumes.
It was hard to understand why someone with such a mind had kept it hidden until now.

“What exactly are you looking for?”
“A Spirit Stone. I heard the marquis handed it over to Akanlaufer.”
“That Spirit Stone… you don’t mean Vivi’s—no, Violet’s?”
“Yeah.”

“You should’ve said so earlier. So we just need to find it?”

Venders, who had been observing passively until now, rolled up his sleeves.
Isaac smirked at the sight.

“Why are you so eager when it comes to Violet?”
“Why are you suddenly bringing that up?”
“Shouldn’t I know what kind of people I’m employing?”
“Heh. You’d never go bankrupt even if you went into business.”

Venders stroked his thick beard along its grain as he spoke.

“…Vivi is like a daughter to me. As you can see, there were women who sold their bodies for my money, but none who truly loved me enough to have a child.
Well, I didn’t intend to have one anyway. What fault would a child born into that have?”

He fidgeted with his hands and feet as he spoke.
A dwarf, and a hunchback.

Even for someone normal, life was harsh enough without noble status.
Venders didn’t want to create another cursed life out of his own desires.

“Anyway, that’s when I met Vivi. Along with a letter from Count Fleur asking me to take her in as an adopted daughter.
A long time ago, I owed the count my life. I’m just repaying that debt.”

“That’s all?”
“Well… even if I was born with this pathetic body, I guess I wanted to try being a father at least once in my life.
Vivi came here at barely over ten years old, leading dozens of grown men.

She was drawing attention from great families and even the marquis, and I could see how she desperately held back the urge to run away at any moment.
It was pitiful—and admirable.

Anyone with a heart would have wanted to help that child.
And since I owed the count, I had no way out anyway.”

Venders spoke as if gazing into the distance.
Then, as if embarrassed by his own words, he cleared his throat.

“…Ahem. You must have a lot of free time, asking about all this.”
“Violet would’ve liked hearing it.”
“Enough of this nonsense. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Venders stiffened his expression unnecessarily.
Isaac, not one to pry into others’ affairs as a hobby, got to the point.

“You know about Goethe’s vassals and branch families, right?”
“A merchant who doesn’t know his business partners would be a joke.”
“Then look into families mainly dealing in slave trade and weapons. Also find those that purchased magical tools useful for concealment.”
“Understood.”

Venders picked up a ledger and answered resolutely.
But he wasn’t much help.

While Isaac went through nearly twenty ledgers, Venders barely finished one.

“But… what exactly are you planning to do?”

Venders asked as he decrypted the contents and recorded them onto parchment.
The wrinkles around his brow and cheeks deepened.

“There are hardly any vassal or branch families that haven’t used black market dealings.
If you turn all of them into enemies, Goethe won’t be able to endure it.

They may be rotten pillars, but they’re still the ones supporting Goethe.”

“I told you. I’m not trying to deal with them—I’m trying to find the Spirit Stone.”

Isaac replied while checking the parchment Venders had organized.

“And how are you supposed to figure out who bought the Spirit Stone with this?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”

About two hours passed like that.

“Two families involved in slave and drug trade.
Three that acquired concealment-type magical tools.”

“And this tells you anything?”
“Of course, it’s not enough to be certain. We need cross-verification. What about the recent black market transactions?”
“They haven’t been organized yet.”
“Bring them.”

Venders carried over a large stack of parchments piled to one side.

“Record all the families that recently used the black market. Focus on purchases of unusual mana stones or elixirs.”
“Yes, sir.”

After more than two hours of organizing ledgers, everything was condensed onto a single sheet of fiber paper.

“Mark… Hauzen… Ripe…”

Isaac muttered the family names to himself.
Every single one of them was a branch family.

Most were baronial houses, but all of them were influential.

Unlike vassals, who—like Goethe—were restricted in military expansion and trade, branch families were largely free from such constraints.
In terms of accumulated wealth and military power, quite a few of them rivaled Goethe itself.

“Is Akanlaufer’s captain among these?”
“The opposite.”
“The opposite?”
“If a family already has the Spirit Stone, would they use the black market to cover things up? Especially now, when the marquis’s purge of the great families has made black market dealings far riskier?”
“Ah.”

“Where’s Botmer?”
“Botmer… you mean the branch viscount family?”
“Yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

Venders stared intently at the fiber paper.

“At least recently, there’s nothing.”
“And how often are the ledgers compiled into books?”
“Usually, three months’ worth per volume.”
“Then for at least three months, Botmer hasn’t used the black market.”
“That’s right.”
“Gather everything you can on Botmer.”

Leaving those words behind, Isaac exited the market office.

“…What a mess.”

Venders let out a sigh.
The ledgers he had neatly organized were now scattered everywhere.
Pouting slightly, the dwarf began tidying up the secret room.

***

“Raise your arms higher!”
“Your legs—your legs!”

“Wolfgang, Wolfgang! Keep your front defense solid!”
“Don’t collapse, Herman!”

Training was in full swing in the backyard of the Randolph Inn.
Though it was just one instructor and two kids, the atmosphere was serious and heavy.

At that moment, Herman—who had been losing in strength and posture—twisted his wooden sword.

“Ah—hey, that’s not fair!”
“Who hits the wrist? This is a sword duel!”
“But that’s a technique too…”

Carlson had taught the Randolph brothers the same swordsmanship—
a very basic stance.

But Wolfgang focused steadfastly on honing the technique itself,
while Herman focused on applying it.

“Wolfgang. As Herman said, that’s also part of swordsmanship.
Do you think you could still complain after getting cut by a real blade?”

Wolfgang looked sullen.

“And Herman. Your fundamentals are still lacking.
Wolfgang is inexperienced, so you got away with it—but don’t think that method will work forever.”

Now Herman looked sullen as well.

“If you lose your courage?”
“You have no right to wield a sword.”

At Carlson’s question, both Wolfgang and Herman answered at the same time.

“Good.”

Carlson raised both hands and ruffled their hair.

***

“When everything’s done, Carlson, you wouldn’t make a bad master.
You’ve got a knack for teaching.”

Isaac said this as he stepped into the backyard.

“M-Master!”

Wolfgang and Herman awkwardly placed a hand on their chests and bowed.

“Finished your business?”
“For now. Wolfgang, Herman.”

Isaac handed each of them a silver coin.
Though they were only a year or two younger than him, their mental ages differed like that of a grandfather and grandson.
To Isaac, they were just cute little kids.

“Thank you!”
“Thank you, Master!”

The two boys beamed.
Working at the inn under Mrs. Randolph, they had a sharper sense of money than most children their age.

“Give us some space. I need to talk to him.”
“Yes, sir!”

Wolfgang and Herman ran excitedly back through the inn’s back door.

***

“Did you find anything?”
“And you?”
“Nothing. I searched the sewage tunnels thoroughly, but finding people is hard—and finding someone willing to talk is even harder.
Ever since the gangs and remnants of the great families were wiped out three days ago, everyone’s avoiding the black market in the sewers.”

Just as Isaac intended.
Whether it was Weissman or someone else, the key figures tied to the black market had been slaughtered.

The deaths of the great family heads had sparked resistance,
but once even that resistance was crushed, all that remained was fear.

“Then I assume you heard nothing about the Spirit Stone.”
“It seems anyone who knew something gathered their valuables and fled. The inside of the sewers is practically empty.
How long are you planning to stay here? Finding the Spirit Stone is something His Excellency should handle. Goethe belongs to him—not you, Master.”

“What, worried about Vinfelt?”

As if his thoughts had been read, Carlson fell silent.

Whether temporary or not, he had taken the role of a company commander in the Vinfelt army.
He had fought alongside those soldiers against wolves that brought death.

Those who had crossed the boundary between life and death together became comrades.
That was true everywhere—
in mercenary bands, in Wonterband, and in Vinfelt.

It was the same reason he couldn’t easily forget Randolph.

There had been many times when that unnecessary sense of camaraderie nearly got him killed—
but for Carlson, who had lost his entire family and lived with nowhere to lean on, it was the only thing keeping his heart steady.

“I’ve been away too long.”
“Don’t trust Besimer?”
“He has the qualities of a leader, but not of a commander.”
“Harsh.”

“I know we need to secure Azer Mountain iron ore and blacksmiths.
But the market will surely send them to Vinfelt in time. Restoring the city is only a matter of time.”

“Botmer.”

“…?”

A question mark appeared on Carlson’s face.
Why bring up that name now?

Klaus von Botmer.
The wealthy Viscount Botmer.
The greedy old man who slaughtered Carlson’s family.

“The one who took the Spirit Stone is Akanlaufer’s captain.
And that captain is either closely tied to Botmer—or part of his family.”

“Are you certain?”
“It’s a guess. But a reasonable one. Carlson, go to Vinfelt.”

“Is that permission—or an order?”
“It’s an order. Go, and train the soldiers.”

“To what extent?”
“As if war is right around the corner.”

The upcoming tournament would serve as the prelude to a territorial war.
Preventing war would be best—
but being prepared for the second-best outcome was absolutely necessary.