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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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The distance between the Noble Council building and the Ogatorf mansion was considerable.
Already exhausted from the day, the distance felt even longer, amplifying my desire to hurry back and collapse into bed.
Despite this, I deliberately chose a longer route, feigning a leisurely stroll.
“He’s more of a fortune teller than a duke, damn it.”
The moment I left the Noble Council building, suspicious individuals began tailing me.
At first, I wasn’t entirely sure, but as I took a genuine detour, pondering how much and how to explain the day’s events, it became clear.
Every time I pretended to examine something that could be used as a mirror at the ubiquitous market stalls, I’d glance behind me and there they were, without fail.
Two women, two men.
Dressed as commoners, yet their black attire was suspiciously uniform.
What a ridiculous bunch.
I lingered a bit longer at a necklace display, trying to discern if these were the traitor’s subordinates, and the stall owner, a woman, approached me with a sales pitch.
“My, my lord, you have a keen eye! The stone at the center of that necklace is genuine silver!”
“It doesn’t look new, but it’s remarkably well-maintained. Do you polish it yourself?”
I’d learned to appraise jewelry from both Asirye and the Ogatorf family.
While not an expert, I was confident in my ability to assess items of this market’s caliber.
I played along, not wanting to arouse suspicion from my pursuers.
Clapping my hands in feigned appreciation, I responded to the stall owner.
“As expected! You’re sharp! But it’s not stolen, is it?”
“Of course not, my lord! I acquired these from a jeweler who caters to the nobility. They wouldn’t give these a second glance, but here, it’s a different story!”
The brown-haired woman, dressed more like an adventurer than a typical market vendor, was noticeably younger than the other stall owners.
Yet, she had two burly-looking bodyguards flanking her.
Something wasn’t right.
I was starting to feel uneasy.
Of all the stalls, I had to pick this one.
While the possibility of stolen goods crossed my mind, it wasn’t my concern.
“How much?”
“A mere ten Itisiel silver coins!”
“Trying to sell used goods at original price? Bold strategy.”
Though Asirye often criticized my appraisal skills, the Ogatorf family’s head butler had praised my keen eye.
This necklace, with its silver setting instead of gemstones, was clearly a cheap imitation for less affluent nobles.
I had no intention of buying it and turned to leave, but the stall owner quickly grabbed my hand, her tone shifting to a saccharine sweetness.
“Wait, my lord! I was joking! Just kidding! Pretty please?”
“I don’t take price gouging as a joke.”
“Honestly, I wasn’t entirely joking, but if you’d bought it at that price, I would’ve thrown in a ton of extras! Trust me!”
Her cloying, exaggerated aegyo was nauseating, but her confidence likely stemmed from her appearance.
She was undeniably attractive for a market vendor.
But I was surrounded by three women more beautiful than her.
Four, if you counted Cheryl.
I tried to brush her off, but a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.
“Hey, mister. Don’t be so hard on our little sis for a little joke. Why don’t you browse a bit longer?”
To my surprise, her “bodyguards” were closing in, their eyes narrowed.
“You’ve got a fancy sword on your hip. This is pocket change for you, right? Let’s be reasonable.”
“W-what?”
I stammered, more surprised by their audacity than the fact that I was being tailed.
Despite their burly builds, they were still at least half a head shorter than my 190cm frame. \
And they were trying to intimidate me?
“Are you blind? Do you not see what I’m wearing?”
The sheer absurdity of the situation made me question their eyesight.
“We see it perfectly. Rich boy. Look how tall and well-fed you are. We’re not short ourselves, but you’re giving us neck cramps.”
“But fancy clothes and an expensive sword won’t stop a…”
“If you move your hand even slightly, you’re dead.”
Their hand reaching for a weapon erased any amusement I might have felt.
I glared at them, my hand instinctively hovering over my sword hilt.
If they so much as twitched, I was ready to break their jaws.
My warning, however, was met with a sneer.
“Think you’re tough with that sword, mister? My knife will be in your gut before you can even draw it. You lack real-world experience.”
Real-world experience…?
Me?
Lacking real-world experience?
What even was real-world experience?
I’d just decapitated twenty-four people like they were bottle caps.
“We were going to let this go, but I guess not. Why don’t you come with us for a little chat?”
“Now, now, boys. Don’t scare the customer.”
The stall owner, now distanced from me, smoothly guided me towards an alley behind the stall.
I didn’t resist as the two thugs half-dragged me into the alley.
Instead, I focused on assessing the situation.
What did they want from me?
My attire wasn’t particularly aristocratic.
But anyone with common sense in the capital would recognize it as a uniform, even if they couldn’t place where it was from.
The previous Margrave Levien had impeccable taste.
Yet, they were confident enough to accost me despite my attire?
Why?
What were they relying on?
“This is so cliché, but you’re making a huge mistake.”
“Oh really? Doesn’t feel like a mistake to us. We know every noble uniform in the capital.”
“Don’t lie. If you knew, you wouldn’t touch me.”
“We’re touching you because we know. Mister, you’re clearly a nouveau riche from outside the capital. We’ve never seen that uniform before.”
Why?
The question echoed in my mind.
Then, the faces of Renisa and the Levien household staff flashed before me.
Right.
Besides Renisa and myself, no one else in Lagnis’s circle wore this uniform.
It was understandable they wouldn’t recognize it.
“Our boss makes a living selling information in this area. We picked you because you looked easy.”
“…Information?”
Just as I was contemplating how to deal with these irritating thugs, a single word caught my attention.
“Oh, thank you. You’re calling me a bit sooner this time.”
You were always there when I needed you.
“Hah, this big guy is praying to a god. Pathetic.”
“If there was a god, do you think we’d have caught you, mister?”
“Eldmia Egga.”
“What?”
As we went deeper into the alley, more thugs emerged from the shadows.
I smiled genuinely.
“My name is Eldmia Egga.”
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Zikmel was a successful information broker.
Four years ago, he was just a naive fifteen-year-old punk running with a gang in Ogwen.
Zikmel still had nightmares about the brutal experience that left him with two broken legs.
For over four months, he lived in constant fear of death, praying his legs would heal.
He’d heard that his gang leader had been killed with a single kick, and while grateful he’d only suffered broken legs, the fear lingered.
Ironically, his broken legs made begging easy.
And during those days, Zikmel had an epiphany.
Violence was futile against greater violence, and actions born of ignorance never yielded pleasant results.
To survive, he needed knowledge, not brute force.
As soon as his legs healed, Zikmel fled Ogwen for a neighboring city.
He scrimped and saved to pay an apothecary to teach him to read and write.
He learned, he gathered knowledge, and while others ruled the streets with violence, he made his living with information.
Information about adventurers wasn’t profitable for a commoner like Zikmel.
He focused on gathering information about merchants and nobles operating within the city, using that knowledge to navigate dangers and build his wealth.
He eventually established himself in the capital.
Even then, he avoided violence.
Information alone was enough to build his influence.
He ran a stall as a minor side business, but his true wealth came from information.
One day, as he was immersed in his work, an unusual knock echoed through his office.
“B-Boss. Can I come in?”
“If it’s not important, come back later.”
An information broker’s life revolved around verifying the endless stream of documents that crossed his desk.
Zikmel, without looking up, recognized the voice.
It wasn’t difficult.
It was Ben, one of the guards he’d assigned to Lilsi’s stall.
Ben wasn’t known for his discernment.
Yet, he opened the door without hesitation.
“A v-visitor is here for you.”
Zikmel had moved to the capital to expand his operations and distance himself from the horrors of Ogwen.
His organization was growing steadily, but skilled personnel were always in short supply.
Recruiting fell to Zikmel, and he valued his time.
“A visitor? For me?”
“Yeah. For you.”
The voice was unfamiliar.
And casual.
Zikmel realized it was the “visitor” Ben had mentioned.
As he turned from his documents, a single question filled his mind.
He had no clients who would visit him like this.
Who had leaked information?
Perhaps it was time to tighten security.
He finally faced the visitor, scrutinizing their face, trying to place them.
He didn’t need to look closely.
“Huh? You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“Eeek! Eeek! Eeek!”
“Eeek?”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”
The remnants of a face that had haunted his nightmares for four years were unmistakable.
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[PEAK worldbuilding. One piece? nahhh eldmia egga is where its at]
