Black Bandana

“Short and intense. Threatening us without a shred of fear.”

Isabella made no effort to hide her displeasure. Cutting the message off after saying only what they wanted, and writing it all in red ink—every detail made the intent easy to read that way.

Ferda saw it differently.

“If this were a threat, wouldn’t it be a little too bold? Their guts would be hanging out of their bellies.”

If they had only meant to swagger around and squeeze a few coins out of them, they never would have ended the letter with the words I shall see you soon. And the sender was none other than the Black Bandana. An information network of that scale—the largest secret organization on the continent—would already have a fair grasp of what kind of man Ferda was.

Which only makes me more curious, he thought. Whether that promise to “see him soon” would actually benefit the Grand Duchy.

“Administrator. Does Hestia have a flagpole?”

“We plan to install one shortly.”

“Raise it today and hang this scarf halfway up. That will serve as our reply.”

Isabella followed his order, planting a flagpole in the center of Hestia Village and fastening the scarf at the midpoint. All around them lay only the Lonely Mountain and dense forest. She wondered whether anyone living nearby would even notice a scarf hanging midway up a pole.

A few hours later, six figures in black robes astride black horses arrived at Baldrova Castle. At a glance they might have been secret envoys from some kingdom, but those who had been expecting them already knew exactly who they were.

Ruri went down to verify their identities and returned with a report.

“Lord Ferda, there are people below the castle who say they have come in answer to your summons.”

“Admit only their representative.”

Given that they were a secret organization, caution was warranted.

The one who entered Baldrova Castle with the authority of a representative was a tall, slender woman. Sky-blue eyes, ash-gray hair, and sun-browned skin. She looked as though she had grown up in the southern provinces. She bowed with formal courtesy.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Regent. My name is Garnet Swallow.”

When she spoke, the sharp tips of her teeth flashed briefly between her lips.

A dark elf?

She was strikingly beautiful, yet the fierce cast of her features made one flinch. The blunt shape of her ears, however, marked her as a southern beauty rather than a pure-blooded dark elf.

Ferda asked her bluntly,

“So. Care to explain why you threatened me and then had the gall to show up in person?”

Garnet lowered her head.

“Threaten you? Impossible. How could creatures who live in the sewers ever threaten the Dragon’s consort—the deputy of the Grand Duke himself?”

“Then you will have to explain the contents of that letter.”

“The red ink and the provocative tone are simply the organization’s outdated customs. If they caused you any distress, I offer a hundred apologies. But if I had truly intended to threaten you, I would never have revealed myself like this.”

The logic was sound.

Garnet set a bag she had brought with her onto the table.

“This is the first gift I offer you as a representative of the Black Bandana.”

Ferda checked it carefully for any explosive magic circle or other trickery. There was no sign of magical tampering. Satisfied, he opened the bag.

Inside were documents.

“Please read them. I am certain they will please you.”

At her urging, Ferda skimmed the contents quickly. There was a reason she had claimed he would like them. The papers contained exactly the information he needed most right now.

Everything about Tilda Pascal.

A comprehensive dossier of the schemes she had laid to leapfrog Merchit, Stephan, and Herman and seize control of the Pascal Merchant Guild. From the organizational chart of the agents she had planted to sow chaos, all the way down to Contingency Plan C. The information Merchit and Stephan had been scraping for looked like mere street theater by comparison; the detail here was that thorough.

I’ll have to verify the accuracy later, of course…

But Ferda did not doubt the source. This was a message from the Black Bandana, the largest secret intelligence network in existence. They would never spit in their own faces by handing over false information.

Still, he had to ask.

“Why are you giving me this?”

The Black Bandana had refused the Empire’s recruitment offers time and again. For them to approach first, Ferda needed a reason.

Garnet answered,

“We are not simply providing it. This is closer to mediation.”

“Mediation?”

“Yes. Tilda Pascal has been a target of ours for a long time. Our original client began tracking and investigating her four years ago.”

That explained the sheer volume of intelligence. They had been digging for years. And the reason they had appeared out of nowhere to present Tilda’s secrets as a “gift” was because the client had willed it.

“She is a truly remarkable woman. Do you have any idea how much she accomplished in those four years of surveillance?”

Garnet spoke as though she still found it hard to believe.

“She filled the mansion with her own people and poisoned her own father-in-law until he became a vegetable.”

“She didn’t kill him?”

“She intended to rewrite the will.”

“So she was scheming to steal the fortune.”

“Exactly. I have never seen a woman whose greed so thoroughly filled the place where a conscience should be.”

To Ferda it was no great surprise. In his memories, Tilda Pascal had ended up as the mistress of the Dandolo Merchant Guild. After the head of the house died she had rushed the wedding, and a few months later the next heir had also died. With no other relatives, Tilda had inherited the Dandolo Guild. That position had then allowed her to be named next head of the Pascal Guild as well, placing her on equal footing with Merchit.

Reading the documents now, he could feel just how desperately she coveted the Pascal Merchant Guild.

“Do you know why a woman who committed such crimes is still walking free?”

“I don’t.”

In truth, he had never cared much.

“After piecing everything together, we concluded that Philiaz stands behind her.”

That changed things.

Philiaz—the origin of all witches. Most of them forced open a Red Circle through pure hatred, usually hatred aimed at a man. But Tilda Pascal was not a witch. If she had been, Ferda would have known.

“Which means she formed a garden contract.”

A garden contract: an agreement that allowed a woman who had never awakened as a witch to wield a witch’s power. A woman steeped in malice contracted with a witch and acted as her proxy. Such contracts were rare, and because the Red Circle never fully awakened, they were difficult to detect.

“Have you identified who she contracted with?”

“We cannot be certain, but the strongest candidate is Yohre Philiaz.”

Yohre Philiaz, the Witch of Poison and Snakes. She was also skilled in illusion magic. Looking at the charisma and organizational cohesion Tilda displayed, it was entirely plausible.

“So.”

Ferda tossed the documents back into the bag and asked,

“I get the information, the client gets revenge—everyone wins. Is that it?”

“Hardly. This information is only a gift. If you complete this transaction, however, you will gain two advantages.”

Garnet raised her index finger.

“First, as I already said, you will be able to finish the matter quickly.”

Then her middle finger.

“Second, this affair will put the Dandolo Merchant Guild into your hands.”

The second condition was so extravagant that Ferda momentarily thought he had misheard.

“We will gain the Dandolo Merchant Guild?”

“Yes.”

“Us?”

“Not ‘us.’”

Garnet pointed politely at Ferda.

“It will fall entirely into the hands of Regent Ferda Valdrova.”

The Pascal Merchant Guild was the largest in the Empire. The second largest was the Dandolo Merchant Guild.

If those two guilds were combined…

It would not be an exaggeration to say they would control half the Empire. The offer was so large it was difficult to believe—so large that even the word of the Black Bandana, an organization that lived on trust, sounded like a lie.

“How exactly would we come to own the Dandolo Merchant Guild?”

“I cannot go into detail until I have your promise. But everything is connected to Tilda Pascal—Henri Dandolo and Rico Dandolo as well.”

Henri Dandolo was already famous for his innocent nature. Separate from that personality, however, his business sense was excellent; he had done much to stabilize his father’s aggressive expansion.

Once Henri stabilizes the company…

Tilda would bare the fangs she had been hiding and sink them into Henri’s throat.

A truly pitiful man.

Yet Ferda felt no sympathy. Sparing a life that was fated to die was already more than enough reason for gratitude.

“If she is ruined, the Dandolo family will also lose its credibility, and the Dandolo Merchant Guild will no longer wish to remain under the family’s control.”

“Aren’t you underestimating the client’s greed?”

“The Black Bandana guarantees it. If the condition is not fulfilled, we ourselves will act as the enforcers.”

The Black Bandana was an ancient organization that kept its word no matter what. If the other party refused to honor the agreement, they simply took what was promised by force. That was their rule.

The chance to swallow an entire merchant guild was not something Ferda would refuse. A sweet, enormous rice cake had rolled right to his feet, and he turned the matter over carefully several more times—whether the affair could truly proceed so smoothly.

He could trust the Black Bandana, but he knew nothing about the client. Once the deal with the Bandana was finished, that client might still stab him in the back. To better deduce the client’s identity, Ferda decided to ask a few more questions.

“What do you need from me, then?”

“I have two proposals this time as well.”

“You do love things in pairs.”

“Once the conversation starts, it simply ends up that way.”

“Go on.”

“First, I would like to borrow some of your people.”

“What kind of people?”

“Someone to find the medium of Yohre Philiaz’s contract.”

For a garden contract to be properly formed, a medium was required. Ironically, the more fragile and conspicuous the medium, the stronger the power it conferred. Given that Tilda had filled the mansion with her own people and rendered the master of the Dandolo Guild completely helpless with poison, the medium was surely something easy to destroy and hard to miss.

“Her medium will be inside the house. We do not know the exact location, so we need an expert capable of pinpointing it.”

“And you already know who that expert is.”

Garnet nodded.

“Yes. I would like to borrow the strength of Jed Swallow—or rather, Sir Jed, as he should now be called.”

At this point in time, most people still knew him only as a pretty face who lived by charming women, far removed from any real thievery. Even if they had watched his performance in Halim, they would have judged his agility as merely that of an acrobat.

But the fact that Jed has talent as a thief should not be widely known yet.

As expected of the Black Bandana. Their information network was so vast and their deductions so sharp that one could only click one’s tongue in admiration. No wonder the Empire coveted them.

Ferda finished his thoughts and answered.

“I’ll lend him to you. And the second?”

“I would like you to reduce Tilda Pascal to an idiot.”

“An idiot?”

“Leave her alive, but leave her body as a prison for her soul.”

“You want her left in a state where she lives but cannot truly live.”

The client clearly wanted revenge—and a vicious one. Ferda, who had exacted cruel vengeance thousands of times himself, ranked reducing someone to a vegetable among the most savage acts imaginable.

Who would wish for that kind of revenge?

Given Tilda Pascal’s notoriety, it could be almost anyone. But after weighing everything that had been said, one name stood out as the most likely.

Rico Dandolo.

Overall, he was the strongest candidate. Rather than let the business empire he had built fall into the hands of a worthless daughter-in-law, he would choose to hand it over to someone else.

And the fact that they made such a request means…

The Black Bandana had proposed it because they believed Ferda was capable of it. So what, exactly, had they seen in him that made them so certain?

“What method, specifically, do you expect me to use?”

Garnet’s eyes flicked briefly toward the girl standing diagonally behind Ferda.

“Dragon Fear.”

Ruri.

“I have heard that ordinary Dragon Spawn cannot produce Dragon Fear. But those who have trained until they are nearly dragons themselves can wield a portion of that authority.”

Her gaze returned to Ruri.

“And I know that the maid standing there is skilled enough to use Dragon Fear. That is what I want.”

Now he understood. Handing over a merchant guild the size of Dandolo required power of equal magnitude. Garnet needed not only a master thief’s skill, but a dragon’s power as well.

“Ha.”

Ferda let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“That is an arrogantly insolent request if I ever heard one.”

He dropped his voice. The atmosphere in the room grew cold in tandem. Garnet’s throat bobbed hard. She was walking a tightrope in the middle of a howling storm; one misstep and she would plunge into the abyss. She chose her words with extreme care.

“I am well aware that I am overstepping. That is precisely why I offered the Dandolo Merchant Guild as a condition. I judged it sufficient compensation for the Grand Duchy of Baldrova.”

“How laughable. Do you truly believe this transaction is balanced?”

Ferda’s voice turned cold with anger.

“Do you think you can borrow a dragon’s power with human treasure? Do you imagine that mere money can buy it?”

“It is possible.”

“?”

“?”

Ruri, who had been standing like a folding screen, cut in.

Ferda glanced at her. Their eyes met for several seconds before he turned back to Garnet.

“She says it is possible.”

“Wh—really?”

“She is not my servant in any case. If she herself says she can do it, then she can.”

The turn of events was clearly unexpected; Garnet could not hide her fluster. Even so, she bowed her head toward Ruri.

“I am grateful for your assistance. That a great servant of Baldrova would grant a request that is little better than a tantrum is more than I could have hoped.”

“You must keep your promise.”

“Of course. We are not so arrogant as to toy with immortals.”

Having confirmed Ruri’s cooperation, Garnet let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Since there seem to be no major obstacles to the deal, I will proceed as prepared. Please read the contract and give your approval.”

Isabella, standing beside them, handled the paperwork herself. After carefully checking for any traps, she handed the document back to Ferda, and the contract was sealed.

Ruri’s power could be borrowed later.

“What about Sir Jed?”

Garnet answered with the easy composure of someone who had already planned everything.

“According to our information, he should arrive shortly. Since the Regent has given permission, I will speak with Sir Jed myself.”

“I wonder whether it will go well.”

“You need not worry. Sir Jed and I are already old acquaintances.”

One of Ferda’s eyebrows twitched.

“Old acquaintances?”

“We once served together in a mercenary company called the Swallows. Three years—long enough to form a rather sticky bond.”

“Swallow…”

Jed Swallow.

Garnet Swallow.

Only now did the shared surname register.

So that’s why she knows so much about Jed.

They had been close; of course she knew him well.

A short while later, a light, clanking sound approached down the corridor. It grew nearer until it finally stopped before the audience chamber.

“Regent, I have returned.”

Jed, who had been dispatched for training, strode in with swaggering confidence.

“Having completed my training assignment without incident and armed myself with the spirit of chivalry, Jed Swallow makes his proud entrance!”

“Welcome back.”

“Ah, you have a guest. And the guest is…”

The two of them locked eyes for a long moment. The man who had just claimed to be armed with chivalry went deathly pale the instant he saw her face.

“Ughk! Fiendtooth!”

He recoiled as though he had seen a ghost and yanked his helmet down over his face.

Garnet rose from her seat and walked toward him.

“Jed.”

“…Who might you be? I’m not Jed, no. I’m Malcolm from Peach Hill, I am.”

“Stop that weird nasal voice. I already know you’re a knight attached to this place.”

“…Look, miss, I really don’t know who you are. I’m Malcolm. Empty-headed Malcolm. I can’t count, and I don’t know left from right.”

“Haa…”

Garnet let out a long sigh—then kicked him hard in the shin.

In crude terms, she cracked his joint clean open.

Crack!

The sound rang through the entire audience chamber. Jed leapt nearly as high as the noise was loud, still carefully keeping the helmet over his face.

“Guh! Hup! Hup! Hup!”

“You damn coward! Get over here! You’re sold to me now!”

“Whaaaat?! What do you mean sold?! Regent? What is she talking about?! Regent?!”

Garnet dragged him away by the ear while Jed demanded explanations. The last thing he saw was Ferda waving a cheerful goodbye.

In the end, six black horses and one brown horse left the castle gates. Jed sat on the brown horse. And behind him sat Penelope as well.

She too had been sold off along with him and was shouting something at the top of her lungs, but her voice faded as they entered the forest.

“Hm?”

Ruri, who had been watching, spoke up.

“What is it?”

“All the horses left, but one person is missing.”

“Didn’t Jed and Penelope just leave?”

“I know that. One of the ones in black is gone.”

Sensing something wrong, Ruri immediately began searching for the missing person. The search did not take long.

A man wearing a robe stood stock-still below the castle, waiting for his representative. On his chest was a kindly written label:

They peeled the black cloth away as though unwrapping a birthday present. The reason a human being counted as a second gift became immediately clear.

“Mmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!”

It was Frank Fontaine—the man who had gone missing during the earlier attack, and the one man who might still be able to testify about the entire affair.

The moment they removed the gag from his mouth, he cried out,

“I-I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything, just please spare my life!”