Chapter Fifty-Seven: To Be Honest, Having Money Is Truly Wonderful

After a good rest, the next day dawned bright and partly cloudy. In the southern marsh forests of Vegema, Viktor, the supreme leader of the Phantom Caravan, and his chief enforcer, Angulan, disembarked from the ferry once more. This time, they had no need to flee. Instead, they strode confidently into the small fishing village revitalized by the newly designated “logging district.”

Naturally, as the supporting settlement for the logging area, timber was abundant in the village. Newly constructed houses stood everywhere, forming a stark contrast with the original, dilapidated buildings. The attire of the people passing by also clearly marked the distinction between locals and newcomers.

As the caravan was still observing the town, a man who had evidently been watching them from within the village approached. He was a slightly balding, shifty-looking fellow dressed in plain clothes, the very image of a broker.

“Hey, welcome to Marshwood Village, you two. Judging by your gear, you must be new mercenaries, right? There are plenty of opportunities to make a fortune in this little town—if you know how to seize them!”

Viktor eyed his bald head with a subtle expression and replied, “Heh, I believe meeting you means we've already caught hold of the tail end of opportunity.”

The man burst out laughing. “Well said, young man! I could tell at a glance you’re bound for great things. I’m a merchant, and as luck would have it, I have just the kind of lucrative venture you can join.

“You see, there are a lot of wild wolves in the forest, and their pelts can be traded for Orens. Without a doubt, my price is the best you’ll find in Marshwood Village.

“So I propose we work together—you bring me ten wolf pelts from the forest, and I’ll pay you a full hundred Orens. You won’t find a better deal anywhere else!”

Upon hearing his pitch, Angulan didn’t spare him a glance. Instead, she raised her left arm and spun her wrist. With a piercing cry from above, Catherine swooped down from the sky and landed on her gauntlet. The display was not only impressive but instantly elevated their standing.

With his companion helping to set the tone, Viktor said nothing, only smiling at the so-called merchant—who was, in truth, a broker—until the man began to feel a chill inside.

Sensing he was up against more than he’d bargained for, the balding man waved his hands nervously in front of his chest. “Uh… Sorry, I misspoke about the price just now. Ten wolf pelts ought to be worth one hundred and twenty—no, one hundred and forty Orens.”

Viktor shook his head with an amiable grin. “Although your price is fair, I’m afraid I can’t accept your offer. I saw a notice on the city’s bulletin board—a certain Mr. Champaly is offering one hundred and fifty Orens for ten wolf pelts.”

Without paying attention to the broker’s complicated expression, the youth took the coin purse from his belt and held it out, just short of the man’s reach. “Sir, look—doesn’t my wallet seem rather pitiful?”

The bald fellow was dumbfounded. He had no idea what the boy meant by calling that bulging purse “pitiful.”

“See—how pathetic it is, packed so tightly with Orens it can hardly breathe. Don’t you want to help it out, to ease its burden?” As Viktor spoke, he tossed the purse lightly into the air and caught it solidly, producing a dull thud.

Standing by, Angulan had been watching the broker’s expression and nearly burst out laughing when she saw the man’s eyes following the purse’s every movement.

This was the “Oren Shock” technique Viktor had spoken of during their idle chatter on the boat—an unbeatable art across all of Temeria. The poor broker, struck at close quarters, was left bug-eyed, face flushed, and nearly gasping for air. Angulan quietly committed the scene to memory.

Just as the captain had taught her, money is the most powerful magic known in this world—more magical than magic itself. If a problem can be solved with money, then that’s how it should be solved.

Last night, after playing with Catherine and returning home, Angulan found, as expected, that Viktor had arrived earlier and was brewing alchemical concoctions in the basement after his evening milk.

Their timing coincided, and Viktor called her over to demonstrate, right before her eyes, how a Temerian lily could be transformed into a Redanian silver eagle, and how the handsome Foltest could be turned into the bald Radovid.

The spectacular performance nearly made the girl’s jaw drop. Even if the entire process took two hours and brewing too many at once might cause fainting, it was still a godlike skill that could drive anyone mad with envy.

The captain said he didn’t want to attract attention, so the caravan must appear to have legitimate income—such as hunting monsters or selling potions. But in private, the two of them could easily live a life unconstrained by money.

She would never forget: the crown was the most powerful currency in the Northern Kingdoms—one crown could be exchanged for two Orens or three ducats.

Not long after, with ten Orens less in the purse, the previously “pitiful” and overstuffed wallet finally grew more comfortable. In exchange, Viktor received the first bit of local intelligence he’d been seeking from the slightly balding man.

Next, the two had the broker lead them to the tavern, where they found Mr. Champaly—a brown-haired man with a touch of noble bearing, a puffed chest and protruding belly.

After Angulan and Catherine once again performed their elegant human-eagle display, illustrating the truth that high style demands high prices, the caravan secured a contract to sell ten wolf pelts for two hundred Orens.

Afterward, they knocked on the largest house’s wooden door to speak with the village chief, Lady Vaska—a nearly withered old woman who led the villagers in worshipping an unknown water spirit in the nearby lake.

A brief exchange about faith confirmed that she was a rather eccentric old lady. Viktor accepted her commission to search for missing villagers, paid five Orens to gently dismiss the reluctant broker, and left the village with Angulan, heading into the forest.

…

They walked along the path toward the Scoia’tael camp. Since clearing the giant bramble-trees would require an elven guide for efficiency, this was their destination.

“Vik, I don’t quite understand. I get accepting the wolf pelt contract—the price is good—but why did we also take on the search for missing villagers?”

After a while, Angulan finally spoke. Viktor felt gratified to see the girl beginning to think proactively about the reasoning behind their actions.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. The answer is: reputation. You can think of reputation as another kind of currency, one that works where money isn’t always effective.

“For example, the night before last—without the reputation for slaying drowners, Siegfried wouldn’t have helped us, let alone received the support of Master Knight Jacques.

“Although I’ve taught you this technique of ‘Oren Shock,’ throwing money at problems, you must always remember—money is nearly omnipotent, but not truly all-powerful. In comparison, a brilliant reputation can not only be converted into wealth, but can sometimes achieve what gold cannot.”

Having explained, Viktor sensed they were nearing the Scoia’tael camp and decided to change the subject. “We’ll need this soon. Now, tell me about your impressions from this morning’s reading of ‘Research Diary on Giant Bramble-Trees.’”

Tsk! She’d tried to steer the conversation, but the captain had asked for a book report after all…

Angulan stuck out her tongue helplessly and began, “The diary describes three types of giant bramble-trees, distinguished by color: brown is the least dangerous, green is moderately so, and purple is the most dangerous.

“Their leaves are specialized into sharp, jaw-like shapes with powerful striking force. If their target is far away, they’ll spit a highly corrosive acid—contact with skin causes symptoms similar to severe poisoning.

“As with other plant monsters, the best way to deal with them is with fire or heavy weapons like axes. Given their origins, sword oils for cursed creatures are also effective…”