C160: the Golden Trader
Let us go back one hour in the past, after Davis waved goodbye to Arnold and the Inspectors met Victor.
“You dare betray us?”
At the village outskirts, inside a barn located at the very edge of the north, the land thinned into scrub and the forest pressed close to the river. Thin beams of light leaked through the cracks in the walls, cutting across the air.
Seated atop a large, overturned crate, Danz looked down at the figure beneath him. A prominent scar bisected his left eye, and several more scars crisscrossed his brawny forearms like old ropes.
His voice was hoarse, heavy with suppressed anger, each word grinding against the silence of the barn.
“Pray tell, Boss, for it is rather uncivil to frame it in such a fashion. What we desire is merely to reclaim that which is, by all rights, originally ours.”
The figure smirked, his slender hands rubbing together in a gesture of cool calculation. His blonde hair, parted neatly and slicked to his temples, gleamed in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the barn walls.
The man appeared every inch a wealthy gentleman. He wore an unblemished suit of impeccably tailored cloth, starkly contrasted by dark trousers and polished black boots.
On his nose sat a pair of golden pince-nez glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Around his neck hung an exquisite long golden chain, ending in a square pendant of gold carved with intricate patterns, a colorful ruby set into its center.
Several ornate rings and bracelets adorned his fingers and wrists, glinting whenever he moved. He looked profoundly out of place, surrounded by the poor, dirty hands and bearded faces of the Tear Drop gang.
Flanking him were two companions, a man and a woman, both dressed in clean white suits and well-maintained black trousers. They stood silently, backs straight, hands clasped behind them, their expressions calm and unreadable.
“Originally yours?” Danz growled, his voice rising.
Surrounding the small figure and his companions was the Tear Drop gang. Their faces, shadowed by grime and rough beards, twisted with rage.
They encircled them, their hands gripping knives, cudgels, and rusty axes. Some growled under their breath. Others stared with naked hostility, as if they wanted nothing more than to tear the well-dressed man apart.
“How dare you!”
“We have never breached the contract, ye fraud!”
“You swindler!”
“Who do you take us for, ye cheapskate!”
“Nothing but a pussy!”
“Go back to yer mommy, ye yellow freak!”
Danz raised his calloused hand.
The ruckus died instantly.
“Tell me the reason,” Danz demanded.
The small man with blonde hair merely smiled. He lifted a hand, and the man standing behind him stepped forward, delivering a rolled parchment into his grasp.
He unfurled it smoothly, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and began to read.
“As written in Clause 3, Section 1, each month, the Tear Drop group shall remit to us thirty percent of the total earnings derived from their various enterprises, which include, but are not limited to, protection fees, outsider tax fees, the takings from sundry public houses, poaching, smuggling, and all forms of gambling under the group’s purview.
“In exchange, the Golden Trader shall provide the Tear Drop group with intelligence regarding the outside world—limited to what can be exchanged within the thirty percent earnings threshold—as well as the necessary potions of the Warrior Path, from Entry to Apprentice Stage, and the requisite materials for such rituals if required. We also offer the esteemed Farer’s materials, essence vials, and various Curses at a price below the prevailing market rate.”
“And?” Danz raised his eyebrows in annoyance, irritation clear in his voice.
The trader continued. “Clause 4, Section 1. Under any circumstance, if the total earnings reported by the contractee do not align with the total earnings that the Golden Trader has meticulously calculated and received, additional investigation shall be conducted.
“If it is ascertained that the total earnings of the Tear Drop group have been purposely lowered by the group themselves, then this shall constitute a breach of the contract.”
Danz gripped his thigh. “We have never—”
Before he could say anything else, the trader cut him off.
“Last month, the total earnings of the Tear Drop were calculated to be 26 Alan coins, 16 shillings, and 8 coppies. Thirty percent of this share, due to the Golden Trader, would therefore amount to precisely 8 Alan coins, 1 shilling, and 0 coppies.”
He paused for dramatic effect, then delivered the accusation.
“However, last month, we received only 6 Alan coins and 1 shilling in total. A significant discrepancy, would you not agree?”
“What?!” Danz surged to his feet.
But before he could act, the trader merely raised his delicate hand.
“Please, Boss, do not become so heated. Allow me to elaborate further, for clarity’s sake.”
“On the day of the 20th of July, we conducted our investigation and found that one of your esteemed followers had ‘purposely’ withheld two Alan coins whilst remitting the dues to our collection agent.”
“...”
“Boss Danz, I trust you comprehend to whom I refer, do you not?”
Danz slowly turned his head to the side, his scarred face tightening, his single good eye fixing on the man standing beside him.
“Loyal Joseph.”
“!”
Loyal bolted! A desperate dash for the barn’s entrance!
Yet, before he could make it out of the door, Danz’s figure disappeared in a blur of motion.
“Wait! Bos—”
*BANG!*
A thunderous crash ripped through the barn. Wind and dust exploded outward as Loyal’s body slammed into the wooden floor. His head driven straight down, splintering planks and leaving a deep, spiderwebbed crack in the boards beneath him.
He lay motionless, blood seeping into the wood.
Behind him, Danz stood. Veins bulged across his forehead and arms, pulsing violently. His knuckles were slick with blood, red droplets sliding down and dripping to the ground one by one.
His gaze flickered toward another figure, one of Loyal’s underlings.
The thin man’s face was drained of color. He dropped to his knees instantly, forehead slamming into the dirt floor.
“P…please forgive us, Boss! It’s…it’s all that man’s fault! We couldn’t—”
“On the 21 of July, yesterday, Mister Joseph had a rather… heated conflict with the Baroness’s maid, demanding that certain goods be delivered ahead of schedule.”
“!”
“At nightfall, he employed his two concealed Alan coins and successfully bribed the said maid, thereby acquiring the said goods.”
Danz’s anger flared, his body emitting an extreme heat, the air around him shimmered.
“YOU SCOUNDRELS! YOU COULD HAVE SIMPLY WAITED FOR ANOTHER WEEK! HOW DARE YOU HIDE OUR HARD-EARNED COINS TO BUY STIMULANTS FOR YOURSELVES?!”
“We… we barely have any for ourselves, Boss! You take the biggest cut! You always take the largest share—”
“THAT IS WHY I’M THE BOSS, YOU CLOD-BRAINED DOG!”
“!”
Danz glared back at the Trader.
“Listen. I don’t have time for this bullshit. Give me one week. I’ll pay it back—”
“This unfortunate situation has arisen several times, Boss Danz,” the Trader interrupted smoothly. “The amount your men have purposely hidden and spent for personal use has now exceeded twenty Alan coins. To put it quite plainly, your esteemed group now owes us three months’ worth of remuneration.”
“What?”
Danz clenched his fists. Veins crawled across his neck and temples as his eyes widened, burning into the Trader with barely contained fury.
Twenty Alan coins. Given that Loyal had spent two Alan coins each month to buy stimulants…
‘A whole year! That dog has been stealing right under my nose for a whole year!’
‘No wonder… no wonder that guy advanced into the Apprentice Stage so fast. He stuffed all those stimulants into himself!’
Danz gripped his fist tighter, his gaze falling upon Loyal’s motionless body with overwhelming rage.
Slowly, he exhaled and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down.
“A month! Give us a—”
“Regrettably, we have no intention of extending our deal any further. As per the contract, today is the deadline.”
“What did you say?”
Danz’s body radiated extreme heat. The air around him distorted violently, rippling like a mirage over burning stone.
His muscles swelled, bulging beneath his patched shirt.
“We shall be departing this place very soon, Boss Danz. There is no longer any purpose for us to remain in this… rather provincial village.” The man pointed one delicate finger at the rolled contract he still held and smirked. “That means, Boss, you may either pay us in full right now, or we shall be obliged to take everything from you as recompense.”
“You cheat!”
“How dare you take advantage of us like this!”
“Who do you think you are?!”
The Golden Trader looked around.
He was completely surrounded.
Those crude, poor, dirt-stained men gripped their fists tightly, some clutching crude weapons, their eyes flaring red as they growled like cornered beasts. There were twenty-eight of them in total, all packed inside the dim barn, their anger thick enough to make the dusty air feel heavier.
“Haha, I have indeed heard the quaint saying, ‘Do not meddle with a Warrior on his own turf.’ I do wonder how true it truly is?”
He turned his gaze back to Danz, whose face had darkened into an ugly, murderous shade.
“Clause 7, section 1. Both parties must not harm each other in any manner, under any circumstances, except upon the discovery of a breach, in which case the determination of punitive measures shall fall under the aggrieved party to ensure fairness.”
His golden pince-nez glasses slid down to the bridge of his nose, and he pushed them back up.
“Do you truly dare to trifle with us, Boss Danz? With the Golden Land itself?”
Danz let out a low, guttural growl.
“Dead men tell no tales.”
*Bang!*
Yet before he could surge into action, another man slammed into the barn.
“Boss, pay them no heed! It’s a trick!”
The doors banged violently against the walls.
A thin man stumbled inside, breathing hard. His eyes were sunken deep into his face, dark circles carved beneath them, and his messy brown hair clung to his forehead with sweat. His clothes were rumpled and stained with mud and grime, as if he had run without stopping.
“Davis?”
Danz turned, his scarred face twisting. He stared at the man who had burst in, the same one who often stood afar and watched everything at his order.
Davis bent over, hands on his knees, coughing as he forced air back into his lungs. Then he straightened himself.
“I knew it, Boss! There’s no way they would ever offer us such a benevolent bargain! They purposely misled us into believing the contract favoured our interests, yet in truth, it’s a massive disadvantage for us!”
For the first time since entering the barn, the Golden Trader frowned. His gaze settled on the man who had so rudely interrupted him, but he remained silent.
“Davis, explain yourself.”