At the Sherwood Firm

"It's a fairly large firm, but the number of merchants actually on the books isn't all that big. And the people we bring in, I personally vet — which keeps the quality reliable."

"I'm sure people you vet are honest about money, at least."

Marisa, flat-eyed, levelling that at Shaw — and chasing it with a long, deliberate sigh.

Shaw appeared to have grown thoroughly accustomed to her cold delivery. He let it slide off and returned a smug little smile of his own.

"Exactly so. Half-hearted love of money is a problem; money-grubber-grade devotion is, ironically, easier to trust. As long as my own commercial sense remains a notch above theirs, those people simply won't betray me. They wouldn't be fool enough to throw away the man who is, for them, the seed of their gold."

"…Hh. That confidence of yours, at least, I have to respect."

"Oh? A rare compliment from Lady Marisa."

"— !"

It had clearly slipped out before she meant it to.

Still — from a Marisa who'd been hurling verbal abuse at Shaw the whole time, even an accidental compliment was a notable rarity.

Shaw seized the moment with a sharp grin; Marisa, blast, hurried to clamp her mouth shut.

For a moment her unguarded face was clearly on display.

"I — said — nothing. — Nothing."

"This round goes to me, surely?"

"It is not a matter of winning or losing."

"You make that face when you're not looking at your First Master, after all? Maybe under all that iron facade you're actually a proper young woman?"

"One more line of that and I tear that mouth into eight pieces."

Even as Shaw crowed, Marisa drew two short daggers from her hip in a single smooth motion — the sharp tips gleaming in her hands.

"Spare me, please! If my mouth goes I can't broker business! I quit while I'm ahead!"

"Please do."

She slid the daggers back into their sheaths and turned her face away, ending the exchange.

Through that whole sequence, she'd flicked her gaze in Merea's direction several times. Only Shaw and Aiz noticed.

Merea, the man in question, was watching it all with an unbothered smile — those two have made an art form out of bickering, his face said.

"Honestly, though. I really can't hold my head up to Shaw. I do respect you."

Merea — no irony in it.

The fact that Shaw could pull off the things Merea could not, in Merea's eyes, plainly merited respect.

"Hah. If we have time on the road, I can pass on some of the know-how."

A small smile. The compliment hadn't displeased him.

"How much?"

"Hmm — for the man who saved my life, I'll specially do it cheap."

"I had hopes, you know. Not free, then."

Lilium was on his back, so a shrug was off the table. He shook his snow-white head instead.

"Free is not good. I'm telling you this for your sake. Nothing is more expensive than free — that's a wise saying. If money doesn't change hands, the closing point of the deal goes hazy. You give the other side unlimited room to push for more later. That is, frankly, terrifying."

"Right. I'll remember that."

"That just now counts as the first piece of know-how. A fee will be applied."

"Not an inch with you, is there!"

"Ha, ha, ha — still a long way to go!"

Shaw barked a victor's laugh, and at last crossed the threshold of the firm.

---

Right inside, what immediately caught the eye was a long counter — set across the visitor's path like a porter's gate, dividing this side from that.

Hanging from the ceiling, lanterns of stone glowed a pale orange. The air carried a warm tone.

"What… are those?"

Aiz, eyes round, looking up at the glowing stones.

Marisa, beside her —

"They are light-stones — naturally luminescent stone, shaped for use as lamps. On the northern continent, where the days are short, the long nights have driven light-related technology and industry to develop well — so household items like these are common."

"Oh. I see."

Aiz's gaze stayed on the stones, full of curiosity.

And, not to be outdone —

"What is that, I want one!"

— Merea's red eyes carried a light even brighter than hers. The look of a child who had just spotted a new toy.

Shaw watched, and let a small wry smile out.

"If we ever travel to the northern continent, you can pick them up easily enough. If you want one that badly, I'll set one aside for you the next time we take stock."

Just then, a man emerged from inside the building.

A middle-aged man who wore a monocle very well.

Dull-grey hair pulled back. A deep crease between his brows — the mark of his years. A trim, narrow body coming toward them.

He adjusted the monocle with a fingertip and at last took in the visitors with a quizzical look — and then —

"— Sherwood-sama?!"

— a startled cry.

The sight of Shaw had broken his composed mask entirely; his unguarded self came out instead. The stern face he'd worn while walking up dropped away on the spot — he was looking at Shaw the way one might look at a ghost.

"Hello there, Zaido-kun. Somehow or other, I've managed to get out from under the Saisalis fanatics."

Shaw, casually, hand raised.

By appearance, the monocled man was overwhelmingly the senior; the actual relationship ran in the opposite direction. Watching it, Merea and the others reconfirmed that yes — Shaw really did own this firm.

"Thank goodness you're safe! Word came through from our branch near Saisalis that Sherwood-sama was being hunted by those fanatics—"

"Ah — so the information did travel."

"It did. Though to think you'd come east—"

"There were complications. West was no good, north was no, south was no, and east was the worst — but if one made it past east, possibility lay beyond. So."

"Hmm. Possibility. For 〈Demon Lord〉 matters, that would be — Lemuse, I suppose."

"Just so. One can keep up the trade while running from pursuers, yes — but it's inconvenient. Time to settle in somewhere we can rest properly, I think."

"My sympathies. Without Sherwood-sama, the firm runs slow. Of course, every one of us cut our teeth as independent merchants beforehand, so we'll handle the bare minimum—"

"Yes. I have high expectations of you. — Anyway. There's a great deal to talk through, but very little time. I'll send a written follow-up later."

"Understood."

The conversation tapered off, and Zaido's gaze finally shifted to Merea and the rest.

"And these people?"

"Other 〈Demon Lords〉 — carrying far heavier troubles than I am. One way or another, they saved me."

"I see. To them, also — my sympathies. Being yanked around at the whim of violent men is a thoroughly tedious business."

Working with the man who held the 〈Alchemy King〉 title, evidently, came with a certain sympathy for Demon Lords.

"Though it's quite rare for you to be the one being saved, Sherwood-sama. I'd assumed you would be on the saving side, by default."

"It's not like that. — Anyway. There's something I'd like you to arrange."

"Understood. Transport to Lemuse, I imagine?"

"You save me the explanation."

"I'll have it procured quickly."

"In thirty minutes, would that be possible?"

"Hahaha — quite the demanding order. — Still, I'll see it done. It will, after all, serve as a demonstration to your guests of the power of gold."

Two of a kind, Merea thought, watching Zaido's grin.

"Right. We'll wait a while. Zaido-kun will see to the transport — given his reach across the Neuce Gauss commercial network, he'll do flawless work. — In the meantime, the basement of this branch holds an assortment of merchandise from various regions. Fancy a look? Sitting around's dull."

Zaido bowed and made for the door at speed. As he went, Shaw turned to Merea.

"Yes please!"

In an instant Merea's eyes were lit again.

Shaw watched the child-like look and felt the wry smile creep back onto his own face.

---

In their conversations on the road, Shaw had heard from Merea that he'd lived secluded on the Sacred Mountain of Lindholm.

Even Shaw, the first time, had laughed it off dramatically — no way — but as they'd kept talking, the picture had filled in, and he'd come round to accepting it.

Merea had unusually deep knowledge in some areas — spell-formulae, for one — and yet was missing the kind of common knowledge anyone in the world would have. And the information he did carry tended to be very, very old.

So — were there really heroic spirits at the summit of Lindholm?

Possibly there were.

It was only the stuff of rumour and folktale, sure. But he had heard for years that powerful spirits tended to gather at the summit of the sacred mountain.

The hundred names carved on those gravestones. Some of the family names he had heard of, but combined with the given names, almost none were familiar to him. If they were the names of heroic spirits from a long while back, the unfamiliarity made sense. And in any case, plenty of countries deliberately erased the records of heroes they wanted reframed as Demon Lords — that, too, could account for unfamiliar names today.

— Well. We can pursue all this later.

Shaw set the line of thought aside.

There was someone else his head needed to spend a moment on. In fact, more so than Merea — who, in a short break like this, could actually let his mind catch its breath — that other person was the greater concern.

He looked away from Merea's bright eyes and across the room, to where the 〈Sword Emperor〉 Elma stood a little apart, her face caught in thought.

Unlike Merea or Aiz, she alone still wore a heavy expression. The tense air she was giving off looked dense enough to suffocate her where she stood.

It was the face, Shaw thought, of someone who'd done something irreversible — and was regretting it.