Ch 34
Even after conveying her refusal, the mysterious counterpart sent messengers multiple times to repeat the same inquiry. The price of the horses rose to four times the market rate, then five times, then ten times. When Mia sent the boy back with a demand to reveal their identity or cease the offers, he returned panting and barely managed to gasp, "Fifteen times the market rate."
At that point, Mia grew more intrigued by the counterpart who preferred paying exorbitant sums over revealing themselves. She sent the boy back with a proposal: she would sell the horses only if they showed their face and signed a contract.
"What on earth are they thinking...?"
Mia headed to the reception room with suspicion gnawing at her. Etienne trailed behind, fretting about her getting hurt again. What danger could possibly lurk in a hotel? Given Mia’s combat prowess, his nagging felt less like concern and more like a pretext to monitor her.
The proposer of the deal was a man shrouded in a hooded cloak. Though his exact age eluded her, his demeanor and tone suggested he couldn’t be older than thirty. The moment someone sat across from him, he launched into talk of Château. While Mia knew his true aim wasn’t purchasing horses—not at fifteen times the price—the speed at which rumors of Grenier’s medicinal dealings had spread still surprised her.
"Are you sent by Marquis An? We’ve already supplied him with our entire stock and stated we can’t offer more until securing new shipments."
"Oh no, we share no ties with Marquis An. If anything, we lean toward opposition."
"So you propose we betray an established partner to venture with you?"
"Eli, isn’t ‘betrayal’ too harsh a term here?"
"Trust is Grenier’s cornerstone. Accepting a deal from an anonymous party carries undue risk."
"Forgive our discourtesy. We, too, prize trust. But revealing our name... complicates matters."
"Then offer a token of trust instead."
He extended a small, unfamiliar box. Mia stared. "What is this...?"
"Ah, it seems word of this new product hasn’t reached Grenier. Allow me to demonstrate." His tone hinted he doubted their ignorance was genuine. Aware that feigning knowledge might serve her better, Mia nodded silently.
"It appears ordinary, but watch." He pressed a panel. A click echoed, and radiant divine energy engulfed him. When the light dissipated, his build, attire, and even voice had transformed.
"Behold—a device to alter one’s perceived appearance."
Mia hadn’t rejected his outlandish proposal solely because of that device. The man departed without confirmation, leaving the tool in her hands.
‘He named it Heron...’
Though its workings eluded her, its potential loomed boundless. In skilled hands, this box could upend battles—vanishing from watchful eyes or materializing where least expected, sowing terror in foes.
Moreover, if that enemy happened to be a high-ranking figure like a general or strategic advisor from the opposing nation, it went without saying. When combining this simple yet enormous advantage with the nature of ordinary soldiers—who had more pressing concerns than loyalty to their homeland—the possibilities became limitless.
What true patriotism could soldiers dragged from peaceful livelihoods into war by their superiors possibly possess? While the royal family and temple preached obedience to make them marginally more reliable than enemy troops, most still wouldn’t “risk everything” for their nation.
An ordinary soldier prioritized personal safety. A decent man placed family next. Scoundrels might add extramarital affairs to the list. Only after trivial concerns like land, housing, and this month’s rent would patriotism barely register.
Thus, they rarely considered the long-term consequences of their choices. Most acted to avoid immediate reprimands—like fabricating reports about a vanished enemy soldier rather than admitting their oversight. If enemy forces unwittingly cooperated, one could infiltrate deep into their territory, appearing as ghosts or monsters to foes...
Mia suddenly wondered why she could envision such scenarios so vividly. Though strategizing with unfamiliar devices from her past life should’ve been difficult, her imaginations felt disturbingly real.
“Ah...”
A sigh escaped her lips.
Sissi.
The black-haired girl who’d rejoiced at her small kindness in this life had again stirred memories of her past.
Merchant rumors were unstoppable by nature. Even if words could be silenced, how could one conceal the flow of goods and gold? Raven’s merchants, rabidly guarding potential profits as if already theirs, routinely spied on neighboring shops.
Thus, rumors of Mia’s absurd flour purchase weeks prior spread instantly. Grenier’s new head needed no verification—merchants who’d met her, even guards who’d inspected her suspicious caravan, all vouched unquestioningly. When even Marquis An, desperate for Grenier’s trade, summoned her personally, who would dare doubt?
Every move by this stranger from Grenier—and Etalon beyond—haunted Raven’s marketplace like spectral gossip. If she or her alleged associates bought anything, prices soared astronomically.
“Irrational for capital-driven merchants,” one might say. Yet once such an entity controlled the market, early overpayment became prudent. Rumors spread by florin-hungry traitors soon blurred with truth.
When even cheap signboards sold at impossible prices labeled “Grenier purchased at double value,” Mia confronted the bureaucratic nightmare her past had spawned.
“Do you grasp the consequences?! You spent triple this month’s budget in one day—triple! Who buys flour at that price without haggling?! The market’s been in chaos for weeks!”
