They were so starved for entertainment that even this sort of visitor, who’d be gone again tomorrow, was a hot topic for conversation.
The inventor said, “The damage to the hot spring water supply wasn’t complicated, so the repairs took no time at all. Seeing as I’m here, is there anything else you’d like me to look at?”
“O-Oh, no, you needn’t trouble yourself...”
“No, but do tell us where you’re staying tonight. If you’d like, I thought we could have dinner? To say thank you...”
The inventor laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving town this evening. I’ll go and take a look at a few more of the rooms. If the magical devices are all in order, then I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh no!”
“That’s no fun!”
The inventor smoothly sidestepped the women’s advances and was in and out of the hotel before the day was out. To the women, it was no more than another one-off encounter.
Hmm... I’m not sure how I feel about women flirting with me just because I’m dressed like a man. Should I be upset that they couldn’t tell I’m actually a woman?
The handsome inventor—who was, of course, Astrid—put the hotel behind her.
✦ ✦ ✦
Resplendent carriages were common in Côte Sud, but even the locals who were inured to wealthy visitors did a double take at the sight of the latest procession.
A pure white carriage—ornamented with gold leaves and flying banners emblazoned with a noble family’s coat of arms—led a convoy of more than ten other carriages full of attendants and luggage. Standing guard over them was a company of knights clad in plate armor, which had to be unbearable in the sweltering sunshine of the beach resort. They were also so heavily armed that, despite the enormous fortune on board the carriages, no bandit would have dreamed of ambushing them.
The merchant who owned the Golden Sunrise Resort shivered as he stood out in front of the hotel, waiting for the procession to arrive. The staff were lined up on either side of the lobby, which had been thoroughly swept. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight.
One of the knights announced, “His Lordship Count Oolonteil of the glorious Yupiter Empire!”
The merchant already had his head bowed as low as seemed physically possible, but at this, he managed to go even lower.
There was a CLICK as the carriage door opened, and from inside came the hoarse voice of an elderly man.
“You may rise.”
The merchant flinched. Then, with some trepidation, he looked up.
The man before him was as thin as a withered tree but stood ramrod straight, as though he had an iron rod in place of a spine. His white hair was slicked back, and he wore a pair of spectacles perched on his aquiline nose. Both his hands gripped a polished cane that radiated an ineffable glow, carved from a magical tree said to be many centuries old.
“Let’s go in. I have business to discuss.”
“O-O-Of course!”
They passed through the lobby, which was silent as the grave, then made their way to the merchant’s office. The decor was as lavish as ever, but the lights seemed somehow dimmer than usual. The count paid this no heed and promptly installed himself upon the couch.
He had brought two knights with him as guards. The merchant, meanwhile, was all alone. He hoped that the servant who came in to serve tea might stay, but no sooner had they laid out the teacups than they all but fled the room.
Gazing down at the four of them was a painting depicting two goddesses: Isu, goddess of belief, and Luthys, goddess of truth. It had in fact come to him from the count—and with it, a threat. The eyes of belief and truth were a reminder that the count was watching his every move. It was not the most tasteful gift.
The merchant’s portly figure seemed to shrink in on itself as he faced the count, who lounged on the couch with both hands planted on his cane.
“I trust you know why I’ve come,” the count said.
“Y-Yes, you are most gracious, your most excellent lordship—”
The count turned to one side and said, “Go on.”
One of the knights drew his sword and held it to the merchant’s nose. He let out a small shriek.
“That’s a taste of what will happen the next time you waste my time with drivel. I have no shortage of replacements for you.”
“Very good, my lord!”
“Now, tell me what happened.”
“V-Very well...”
With that, the whole story poured out of the merchant, from the revival of the public bathhouse and the commoner neighborhood, to how his hired thugs had been driven off.
“And, erm, that’s the size of it...” the merchant finished, reaching for his teacup with trembling fingers and taking a sip.
The count appeared to be deep in thought.
“So those benighted peasants are getting ideas, eh...?” he said to himself. “The question is, who put those ideas in their heads... A few come to mind who might dare to oppose me...”
“Y-Your lordship...?” the merchant stammered.
“We passed the tax inspection without any snags, but that’s only to be expected. After all, this is an honest business you’re running here. I’m told it didn’t go so smoothly for some of the other hotels.”
“Ah, yes... I did hear that...”
As far as the merchants of the Yupiter Empire were concerned, a little cooking of one’s books was no more than sensible business practice. After all, not doing so meant having to pay eyewatering amounts of tax. To be a merchant meant welcoming all money coming in and begrudging every small copper that went out again, so if a tiny adjustment in the ledgers meant holding on to those coins, why wouldn’t someone do it? Besides, if they were caught, they could just feign ignorance: “Dear me, is something wrong, inspector? Perhaps an error in the calculations? Happens all the time, I’m sure.”
But the owner of the Golden Sunrise Resort had been forewarned by Count Oolonteil that this inspection would be particularly strict, so he had kept his accounts accurate and honest—honesty bordering on stupidity, if you asked his peers, but his tax inspection had come back clean on every point. It was of course a tactical play so that when the redevelopment kicked off, people would recommend him as an upstanding merchant.
“The trouble is this report from the inspector. He included a caveat requiring ‘follow-up observation of the commoner neighborhood for the period of one year.’ It’s reignited the debate about the redevelopment all over again.”
“O-Oh dear...”
“For all we know, it may be delayed longer. And then other nobles will start sticking their noses in.”
The merchant was dismayed.
With the redevelopment project as justification, he could boot the residents out of the commoner neighborhood—he’d offer them token compensation—build another giant hotel under the auspices of his merchant house, and his success would be assured.
But for that to happen, it was vital that Count Oolonteil be put in charge of the whole project. The fact was that for the merchant, building a new hotel would be a once-in-a-lifetime investment—but for the count, it was nothing. One more hotel would barely be noticed among his assets. The other nobles, therefore, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the scheme. It was just one more hotel, after all.
But the count’s true ambitions lay beyond that. If the redevelopment succeeded, tax revenue would shoot up and generate momentum for further development in Côte Sud. Or rather, he was confident he could create that momentum.
All kinds of projects would spring up, from improvements to the road to the capital, to clearing the forest to establish new towns, to perhaps even constructing a port to draw in visitors from abroad. In all events, it would be an enormous undertaking—and Count Oolonteil would be there at the center of it.
The other nobles hadn’t cottoned on to his grand designs yet. If they noticed at all, they just thought it was awfully commendable of him to help his favored merchants to turn a profit.
“If I start picking holes in the accounting bureau’s report, the other nobles will smell a rat. They’ll see the juicy opportunity that this redevelopment represents. We must proceed discreetly.”
“I understand completely, my lord.”
“Oh? Then pray tell. What possessed you to hire a pack of thugs?!”
CRACK.
The count’s cane slammed down the table, shattering the merchant’s teacup and sending tea flying everywhere.
“F-Forgive me!” the merchant whimpered, sliding off the couch to prostrate himself.
The count’s breath came in wheezing gasps.
“My lord...” murmured one of the knights. “It is not good for your health to exert yourself so.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” the count said. “In the face of such incompetence, I just couldn’t help myself.” He settled back into the couch. “Give careful thought to your methods. If a problem can be solved with money, you pay it. When you covet the coins in your hand today, you miss out on a fortune tomorrow. Haven’t I told you that before?”
“Y-Yes, my lord!”
“Then see you take it to heart. There are plenty of ways to get rid of the rabble in the commoner neighborhood. It doesn’t matter if a few have to die—no one’s going to care. And don’t forget that the same goes for you.”
“Y-Y-Yes, my lord!”
The threat was clear—the count would kill him as soon as he ceased to be useful. All the merchant could do was press his forehead even harder into the floor.
The count looked down at him coldly, then stood up.
“We’ll be leav—” he began, then broke off. The blood drained from his face and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. “Wh-What in the world...”
The two knights looked confused. They followed his gaze, then their faces froze in shock. Finally, realizing something was amiss, the merchant looked up—and leaped back with a shriek.
Above them hung the painting of the two goddesses. Something was dripping from their eyes. Something red as blood. And scrawled across the canvas in the same red liquid:
Isu, goddess of belief, and Luthys, goddess of Truth, are watching you.
The count made a hasty departure and was long gone from Côte Sud before the day was out.