Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Western City (2)

The Market.

Quite literally, the city's market head.

It was an unfamiliar concept to Anagin, who was encountering the very idea of a city for the first time, but thinking of it as something similar to the village chief made it feel a little more familiar.

The scale of what they managed was different, but the work itself felt similar.

Except it seemed that wasn't quite the case either.

"Hello. I'm Riotess, the Market of this city. My friends call me Rio."

"...Anagin. Just call me Anagin. But—are you really the Market?"

"Yes. Is that strange?"

"A little. You're different from what I imagined."

Curious about what kind of person the Market was, Anagin had asked the Merchant to guide him here, and now he spoke his honest thoughts. The Market was far younger than he'd expected.

"I figured the head of a city would be pretty old."

"Haha, is that so?"

Rio, standing before Anagin, smiled.

His face was completely smooth, without a single wrinkle—so young it almost felt childish.

But his manner was hardly childish.

Though the texture was different, there was something about him that resembled the Village Chief. That particular air of a person responsible for a whole community.

"Thank you for the compliment. But I'm a little embarrassed. Aren't you the hero who slew a Monster at such a young age? I don't know where to put myself."

"It wasn't really a compliment."

Anagin threw cold water on Rio's attempt to create a pleasant atmosphere. It was enough to make anyone feel awkward, yet Rio didn't waver.

He simply observed Anagin. He watched him carefully, minding his gaze so as not to offend him.

Thanks to that, Anagin wasn't displeased—but even so, the sound of grinding gears in Rio's head never stopped.

"You're not wrong. The truth is, I'm only in this position because I had a good father."

It was Rio's father who had founded 'the new city of Disis.' Rio candidly admitted that he had merely inherited the position after his father's death.

"My father originally ran a fairly sizable merchant caravan in Hellas. Then he came to Anapic looking for new opportunities and founded a city."

"Ah, that's impressive."

"We were also lucky. Thanks to the influx of settlers, we were able to establish the city without much trouble. Though he collapsed from overwork partway through, and I ended up taking over in his place."

"Ah, I see."

"That's why I sometimes resent my father. He went and started all this, and now I'm the one suffering for it."

"Ah, that's rough... But do I need to know all this?"

Anagin responded indifferently to Rio's long-winded tale. So what? What did he want him to do about it?

Rio shook his head.

"Haha, forgive me. I called you here as my guest and then rambled on about nothing. Would you like to sit for a moment?"

Rio gestured to a chair set before a table. Since he was already here, Anagin took the seat, and shortly after, a servant came and set down a cup of wine.

Anagin put his nose to the cup and sniffed. The aroma was quite nice.

"It's this city's pride. It's made in Anapic, but the taste doesn't lose to anything from Hellas."

With such tremendous confidence, Anagin took a sip. It was quite good. Far better than what his home village made.

"It's definitely good."

"Right?"

"Did you call me here just to show off your wine?"

"No, of course not. It was to express my gratitude for slaying the Serpent, the city's headache... Though I doubt you'd believe that."

Anagin nodded. If it weren't for the grinding gears he could hear, he might have accepted the thanks graciously—but the grinding was far too loud.

"Hah... The truth is, I called you here to have a more productive conversation. Are you planning to leave this city right away? Or do you intend to stay a while?"

"Why do you ask?"

"If you leave soon, I'll hurry to pay you for the Serpent's body. If you plan to stay a while, I'll take my time with the payment."

"Is there a difference?"

"The amount differs somewhat. It's a valuable item, so we'd like to handle the sale ourselves, but it isn't easy."

The Market explained.

A regular trade was coming up soon, and there was a limit to how much goods or money they could free up.

"Therefore, paying full price immediately will be difficult. However, if you stay until after the regular trade, I believe we can pay you a sufficient sum."

"Is that all?"

"Hmm... You think I have other business?"

"I can tell. There's no way you called me here just for that. I can hear the grinding gears, drrr, drrr, nonstop. Just like your subordinate."

Anagin tapped his own temple as he looked at the Market.

"So I'd appreciate it if you'd just get to the point. Feeling me out is a waste of time."

To an outsider, it was an attitude far too insolent to show a Market.

Yet the Market didn't take offense—he smiled instead.

He laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table.

"I like this kind of conversation... Since you speak so directly, I'll be direct as well. By any chance, are you an Ascetic?"

"And if I am?"

"There's something I'd like to propose."

---

After the talk concluded.

Once Anagin left, the Merchant entered.

He was the Merchant who had guided Anagin here, and the one who handled trade across the surrounding villages.

He carefully closed the door and approached Rio.

"Market. Did your talk go well?"

"Yes. He's an interesting fellow."

"Well, I suppose so. Rude, though."

"He has his rude moments, but so what? From his perspective, we're the rude ones."

"Pardon?"

"It's a matter of perspective, I suppose."

A merchant is one who seeks profit through trade. Which meant he inevitably had to grind his gears. In other words, grinding gears was as natural to a merchant as breathing. But because of this, merchants were sometimes avoided in certain places.

They were always calculating gain and loss, steering conversations in particular directions, causing misunderstandings, and in the worst cases, even lying.

That was why, to some people, a merchant was an existence not worth dealing with at all.

The man called Anagin had simply grasped that merchant nature well. Despite having slain a Monster for them, he knew they were thinking of using him.

Perhaps, if he hadn't inherited his father's dream, Rio too would never have understood this perspective his whole life.

"Ahem, but Market. It may be late to say this now, but is this truly all right? He may be a Giant, but 'that side' is also a Giant, aren't they?"

Beings who wielded Gi, the power of giants, were called 'Giants.'

Beings who, in the distant past, had the blood of giants poured over them and gained a giant's power.

Naturally, they left descendants, and some among those descendants still wielded the power of giants, remaining objects of fear and admiration.

Because Giants were beings beyond common sense—able to save countless people, or to crush them, all on their own.

And the 'that side' the Merchant mentioned belonged to the latter.

The Bander Peddler Band.

A group of peddlers who had recently settled in this area and monopolized the major trade. In truth, they called themselves a peddler band, but they were little better than bandits.

They sought out new cities and villages without proper protectors, used force to coerce one-sided deals, and thanks to them, this whole region always suffered enormous losses.

The reason merchants—who hated losses as much as death—tolerated this situation was simple: the leader of the peddler band was a Giant.

Disis Polis was not yet a great city with a temple, so there was no way to oppose them, and they always had to accept the losses.

Rio sought to break that relationship by subtly drawing in the outsider Anagin. Though he had changed the plan partway through.

"You changed the plan?"

"I'll explain the details later. There's still some time before the Bander Peddler Band visits. Just know that it looks like it'll turn out better than my original idea."

"Ah, yes..."

Seeing the Merchant trail off uneasily, Rio asked.

"Are you worried?"

"N-No, it's just..."

The Merchant trailed off again. He said no, but he was surely uneasy. Well, that was only natural.

Objectively speaking, Rio—the new Market and caravan head—was still a greenhorn, and his scheme to oppose the Bander Peddler Band bordered on recklessness.

But that was all the more reason to act now. The odds of failure were high, but the situation itself left no room for choice.

If he did nothing in this situation, Rio would eventually lose control of the city, or worse, the city itself could collapse.

So, like it or not, he had to try now. And besides...

"Personally, I have a good feeling about this. About that man."

Rio said, looking at Anagin through the window.

He was in the middle of talking with some old man, and the more Rio looked, the more strangely good his feeling became.

A merchant's intuition, perhaps.

It was time to make his bold move.

---

When Anagin came outside, he could see the Old Man standing in front of the carriage, waiting.

Incidentally, the Old Man's grandson and granddaughter were inside the carriage.

"Oh? You waited for me?"

"Yeah!"

The Old Man's grandson raised his hand and answered energetically.

"Ah, I'm touched."

"Did your talk go well?"

"Eh, so-so."

"What did you talk about?"

The grandson cut in, eyes sparkling.

He clearly wanted to know what Anagin had discussed with the city's highest official.

"Who knows... Ah, they say the local specialty here is wine. It's definitely good. More importantly, seems like there are fewer people now?"

Anagin said disjointedly, looking at the empty carriage. The people who had been riding along were nowhere to be seen.

"They got off. This city was their destination from the start, so there's no reason for them to stay longer..."

"Right. They said they came here because life was hard where they were from. Since we're on the subject—could we talk for a moment?"

Anagin pointed to one side with his finger. Not boldly—he was asking to have a quiet word off to the side.

It wasn't the kind of thing Anagin would normally do, but the Old Man readily went along.

"What? I want to know too!"

The Old Man's grandson tried to follow out of curiosity, but his older sister seemed to sense something and carefully held him back.

Anagin looked at the two siblings, then turned to the Old Man.

Their eyes met, and the Old Man asked.

"What is it you want to talk about?"

Anagin turned his back to the Old Man and crouched down.

"Hmm... The Market here asked me to help with something. There are some nasty people forcing trade on this city, and even the Monster Serpent's body I killed is about to be taken for a pittance. He asked me to make it look like I requested he sell it on my behalf so I can get a fair price. In return, he'll give me not just the payment but a magic tool too."

"A subspace bag, no doubt."

A subspace bag.

A magic tool that could hold large amounts of cargo in a small bag, though it varied by individual item.

It was the most common and useful of all magic tools.

"Oh, you know your stuff."

"It's the item a novice Ascetic needs most, so through trade... Ahem. So? What did you answer?"

"I said I'd think about it. It seems like a convenient item... From your perspective as a former peddler, what do you think? Should I accept? Should I refuse?"

The Old Man couldn't answer right away. As if he were being careful about something.

Time passed slowly, and at last the Old Man opened his mouth.

"Honestly, I'd say you're better off not doing it."

"Why?"

"It won't be as easy as he says, and he'll have ulterior motives. There's always someone trying to use a Giant or an Ascetic."

"I did hear some grinding gears. But—is that from experience?"

Still crouched, Anagin turned to look at the Old Man.

"What I mean is, were you an Ascetic too, old man?"

---

An awkward atmosphere hung between Anagin and the Old Man.

The awkwardness bred silence, and the silence stirred a strange unease.

Perhaps because he saw the children watching them and thought they couldn't keep this up, the Old Man sighed and spoke first.

"I wasn't trying to deceive you..."

"I know. I didn't hear any grinding gears."

Anagin tapped his temple.

"I just wanted to confirm. You're the first Ascetic I've ever met..."

"How do I measure up?"

"Hmmm... I can't say you feel particularly special."

"That's because I'm a failed Ascetic."

The Old Man let out a dry laugh.

"Now I'm just a peddler who's set down all his karma, an old man who wants to go home and spend his remaining years with his grandchildren."

The Old Man spread both arms. Even hidden by his clothes, one could sense a body worn thin by the hardships of time and by failure.

Anagin stared at him for a moment, then rose and walked around to the Old Man's other side.

"I hope you make it home safely."

Leaving the Old Man with only those words, Anagin tried to walk away.

Caught off guard by the unexpected response, the Old Man called after him.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Should there be more? We're parting ways at the city anyway. It'll be easier for you too."

Only then did the Old Man realize. That he had been uncomfortable around Anagin—and that Anagin had noticed.

From the start, the fact that Anagin had called him aside so the children wouldn't hear had been consideration for him.

The Old Man felt an unexpected pang of conscience. He hadn't expected a young man who seemed so insolent to be this thoughtful.

And so he ended up sticking his nose in where he normally wouldn't.

"...Are you going to keep being an Ascetic?"

"Yes."

"No thought of quitting?"

"If I was going to quit in a day, I wouldn't have started."

"That's... true. That was a foolish question. You must have your own important reasons. Wanting to become an Ascetic—no, wanting to become a God—can't come from ordinary resolve."

Though they had only just met, the Old Man understood Anagin's resolve well. That was why he asked.

"Even so, you won't quit?"

"You're acting strange. You barely said anything before."

"Because you seem like a good person."

"Your eyes are broken."

"At the very least, I don't think you're a bad person. Not from what I saw in the carriage... I failed, but as a senior who played the Ascetic before you, let me give you some advice. Being an Ascetic isn't something a person should do."

"Do you have bad memories of it?"

The Old Man neither confirmed nor denied it. He simply spoke.

“Being an Ascetic—just getting to the starting line is the hard part. You go to Delphi Temple and receive a god’s choosing.”

“The first method, Tacheon. I’ve heard of it.”

“Every year, countless Ascetics make their way to the temple, but only a handful are properly chosen. Sometimes not even one is picked. Do you know what happens to those who aren’t chosen?”

“Not really. You said they get another chance to be chosen, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. They build up their reputation to catch a god’s eye. They wander from place to place hoping for a chance, or they settle down somewhere and fight off monsters and villains.”

“Sounds like nothing special.”

“But that’s not all of it. An Ascetic has to fight not only the enemies you can see, but the ones you can’t. Didn’t I tell you? There are plenty of people who want to use Ascetics. Even an Ascetic with pure good intentions can be deceived by schemes, plots, and sweet talk until they’re bled down to the bone.”

“Then can’t I just use them right back?”

“There are plenty of those too. And most of them end up losing themselves.”

The Old Man’s expression darkened. As if some truly terrible memory had surfaced.

“At first, they swing their sword to take revenge on the ones who used them. But eventually, they swing it for money and twisted pleasure. Then they cross lines a person should never cross, and in the end, they lose their conscience, their dreams—and even who they once were. That’s worse than death… And I, too, once—”

The Old Man hesitated, barely managing to keep speaking. But he never finished what he was saying.

One of the city guards, armed with a spear, came running in a panic and disappeared into the city hall building.

The sight was so obviously urgent that it drew everyone’s attention, and a moment later, a voice echoed from beyond the windows. It was clear enough why he had run in like that.

“Market! It’s them! The Bander Peddler Band is coming through the city gate right now!”