Unbeknownst to them, the intruder—Cale—was simply remarking on everything Raon reported in his mind.
‹Aren’t I great, human?›
Raon had explained all of it to Cale: the magic device, the invisibility, and the dagger. This dragon sure is useful. He didn’t even need instructions from Cale anymore.
Setting aside his satisfaction at Raon’s growth, Cale smiled at Plavin. His mask only covered the upper half of his face, making his wide grin completely visible.
Plavin’s first words to him were useless nonsense. “H-how did you get in—”
Shaking his head at this unimportant drivel, Cale plucked a necklace from his shirt pocket. Clink. He dangled the necklace on his index finger and swung it back and forth. Plavin’s eyes followed the Fire Crystal’s every move—until the white-haired man’s spoke up again.
“Thirty.”
That snapped Plavin back to his senses. He clenched the armrests of his seat, his expression crumpling. “Who the hell are you? How dare you do this to me!”
Cale sighed. “How tiresome.”
“What?”
Cale had no intention of acknowledging such a banal response; he simply said what he needed to say. “Thirty billion counds.”
Thirty. Thirty billion counds.
Finally, Plavin understood what Cale meant. In his shock, he blurted out, “Th-that’s preposterous!”
“Then shall I go to the imperial prince?” the white-haired man retorted, his tone equal parts arrogant and annoyed. He gave off an aura of unapproachability. Though Plavin was itching to rebuke him, the man’s gaze made it hard for him to even breathe.
“Listen up, Plavin Sinten,” Cale said, activating a bit of the Dominating Aura as he addressed the man and his assassin. Plavin could only stare as Cale twirled the Fire Crystal like a toy. He had no idea what the man would say next. “Which has the longer history, the Mogor Empire or the Church of the God of Sun?”
Though unexpected, it was a simple question anyone could answer. It was the Church of the God of Sun. The church had been around longer than the Empire because the God of Sun had existed long before the Empire’s establishment.
Plavin’s expression shifted, but the man in the white mask dispassionately went on, “When something survives for so long, there’s a reason for it.”
The Church of the God of Sun had survived much longer than the Empire. In fact, the church had put down roots before the Mogor Empire even laid its foundation in the Western Continent.
Plavin recalled the many religions and nations that had disappeared throughout history. Not too long ago, he had included the Church of the God of Sun on that list; that was why he’d jumped to the Empire’s side, planning to retrieve the Fire Crystal and terminate all connection between himself and the church. Yet the man standing before him spoke as though the church were still alive and kicking—and that struck him as odd.
Why does he make it sound like the Church of the God of Sun isn’t done yet? He’s speaking as if it’ll be around much longer than the Empire.
Plavin’s visible rage and anxiety receded, replaced by the look of a merchant intrigued by a potential opportunity.
“They say you’re known for your political acumen, Plavin Sinten.”
The guildmaster agreed with that. He had a knack for the political dance.
“In that case, you should understand the implication of the Empire’s bad news.”
A different emotion flashed across Plavin’s face. Seeing as much, Cale held back a snort; the Sinten leader was probably thinking about the Sun Palace’s partial destruction and the assassination attempt on the alchemists’ vice-master.
As Cale expected, that was exactly what occupied Plavin’s thoughts. The Mogor Empire had smothered the details of the incidents, but the fact that the culprits included a royal servant, a royal maid, and a knight had still spread quite far.
Could it be…?
Were the culprits somehow involved with the Church of the God of Sun? Was it possible that the church had infiltrated the palace and installed spies? The moment that idea occurred to Plavin, another question arose in his mind.
Why did they aim for the vice-master? Could they have found out about the slave trade? Do they know about my involvement too?
His eyes wavered at the ramifications of it all.
‹That merchant’s eyes are all flickery, human.›
Raon pointing that out served as a signal, at which Cale donned his gentlest smile. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, a note of laughter in his carefree voice. “Think about it carefully, leader of the Sinten Merchant Guild.”
Plavin did as he was told. Just who is this man? Somewhere along the line, his perception had changed—such that his mental address had switched from “that crazy bastard” to “this man” instead.
The man in the white mask was telling Plavin to think hard about his identity, but Plavin couldn’t figure it out. His white hair brought the Kingdom of Faern to mind, but Faern had nothing to do with the Church of the God of Sun. Fortunately, the man’s next statement brought Plavin much closer to understanding.
“Think about why I came to find you.”
Why did this man seek me out? He didn’t seem like the type to merely threaten Plavin with the necklace. He had the aura of someone with his sights set on a bigger prize.
“Consider whether the amount I named reflects the pendant’s value. Think long and hard.”
Thirty billion counds.
A revelation zinged through Plavin’s mind. He realized what the thirty billion counds represented: It was the cost of reestablishing his connection with the Church of the God of Sun. That was what the money was for. Which would he choose: the Mogor Empire or the Church of the God of Sun? Or would it be both?
No. The Sinten Merchant Guild’s future is on the line here too.
What if this man and the people working for him spread the information about the slaves to the other kingdoms—or what if he gave that intel directly to Karo? So many people were currently held captive in the Empire. Would Plavin be able to cover it all up? Between risk and reward, everything crashed upon him at once, like a torrent of waves.
Cale piped up again, this time with a pinch of derision. “Does it really take that much contemplation? Just follow your usual methods.” Then he shared another truth with Plavin: “The strong are those who manage to survive.”
The haze in Plavin’s mind cleared in an instant.
There was a clack as the man placed a magic bag on the table, gradually turning invisible all the while. The curtains were drawn with a final rustle, and Plavin heard nothing further after that.
He sat back in the chair and contemplated for a while. After wandering the maze of his thoughts for an extended time, he grabbed the magic bag.
“Here’s our fifth item!”
Ignoring the auctioneer’s comments, Plavin opened the door and left the terrace.
At the same time, Bilose, who was on Terrace 4, felt someone tap his shoulder. Though Ron was the only other person nearby, Bilose said aloud, “The priest is on Terrace 1.”
Cale smiled. He planned to hold his own private auction on the last day. He hadn’t set a price for the Night’s Exultation yet, as his customer’s sense of urgency would see to that.
I’ll take as much as he’s willing to give me.