Trading In The Royal Capital- Day 2.

“Ho, a small pot of stew is a blessing for a chilled body.”

“Ah, it really warms you up. Puff, puff… Mmm!”

“Oh, what is this…? Gulp… I can’t stop eating!”

“This thick broth is incredibly delicious! And that spicy kick is irresistible.”

“I know! I just thought of something brilliant. You dip the bread into the leftover broth like this… Oh, mmmmmm!”

“…………You’re a genius.”

Watching the people smack their lips over the new breakfast menu, Hans felt his mustache lift into a satisfied grin. Based on the way they were clamoring for seconds with wild eyes, “excellent” didn’t even begin to cover the reception.

Hans, spoon in hand, peered into his own small pot. Red shrimp, Brussels sprouts, and white mushrooms—the colors were vibrant, and the presentation was flawless. He scooped up a sprout and popped it into his mouth. The sweetness of the thoroughly simmered vegetable, the savoriness of the garlic, and the heat of the red chili—the oil, in which these three elements had perfectly melded, seeped into his palate.

It wasn’t flashy. But it was, without a doubt, a lingering, addictive deliciousness.

“To think garlic and Jade Oil were such a perfect match… Perhaps it’s because they were born in the same place. A wondrous thing.”

Labyrinth Garlic, cut in half and crushed, and deseeded red chilies are simmered slightly in Jade Oil to let the flavors meld. Once the garlic turns a light golden brown, you simply add the pre-prepared vegetables and shrimp and simmer further. The trick is that salt doesn’t dissolve in Jade Oil, so one must season the ingredients beforehand. It was a remarkably simple recipe.

The name written in Nino’s letter was “Ajillo,” but since it sounded unfamiliar, it was served as “Jade Oil Pot-Stew.” It was offered as a two-day limited special just to introduce the flavor, but at this rate, it would be gone in no time.

He had only brought three barrels of Jade Oil this trip, and only one had been given to the Golden Bear Inn. Next time, he would likely need dozens of times that amount. Hans tightened his cheeks, which were threatening to loosen into a grin again.

As he savored the dish, he let a quiet calm settle over his heart. It was too early to be giddy. Today’s transaction was the main event. Having savored every last drop, Hans stood up with a satisfied sigh.

“That was a wonderful meal. I’ll see you again next month.”

“Thank you very much.”

“…………We’ll be waiting for you, truly.”

As Hans turned to leave with his parting greeting, he saw the beastman couple working busily, yet wearing genuine, heartfelt smiles.

“Excuse me. A package has arrived, Workshop Master.”

“From whom?”

“I’m not sure. They only said they wanted this delivered to you.”

“Hmm. Put it there. Thank you for your work.”

Barnabas waited until the receptionist exited before letting out a heavy sigh. It had been twenty days since one of the great pillars supporting this workshop had left. The impact was already becoming conspicuous.

“The review of the allocation charts is never-ending.”

Transmutation can only be used according to one’s specific blessing. It was a system of division of labor where a single item had to pass through the hands of at least three to four people. Until recently, there had been an existence that fit perfectly into any gap. But now that he was gone, a chronic delay of about thirty percent was occurring in every individual task.

“I knew it would come to this, but…”

He had steeled himself to some extent when he let go of the protégé he had raised with such care. But now that the situation had easily exceeded his expectations, he was once again reminded of the magnitude of what he had lost. Pressing his temples, Barnabas looked resentfully at the stack of order forms piling up on his desk.

“Should I try to raise another Ordinary-race Alchemist from scratch…? Hah, don’t be absurd.”

The Oni man laughed off his own words, knowing them to be impossible. He instinctively reached for his pipe, remembered he was on his fortieth attempt to quit smoking, and clicked his tongue.

“I must have hidden a spare somewhere…”

The Workshop Master tossed aside the subordinates’ schedules and began rummaging through desk drawers and cabinets. However, it seemed his beloved wife was no pushover. Confronted with the fact that every item related to tobacco had been thoroughly purged from this room, Barnabas let out a small breath and slumped heavily onto the sofa.

His gaze fell upon the wooden box placed on the low table.

“Could it be in here?”

It seemed his rational judgment was already failing him. Barnabas yanked the lid off the box, only to have his eyes go wide in surprise at the unexpected contents.

Packed inside the box were five glass vials and a stand holding a large white stone. It was likely a White-Glow Stone. But a stone of this size was something even this workshop rarely handled.

The exhausted expression from moments ago vanished instantly, and from beneath it emerged the face of the Alchemist who managed the Royal Transmutation Workshop. Channeling mana into his monocle made of white-glow crystal, Barnabas examined each item, let out a murmur of wonder.

“Mana-Vitality Potion, Mid-grade. And the quality is ‘Excellent’… What? This one too? No, all of them…………”

At a conservative estimate, these were worth six to eight gold coins. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the veteran Alchemist tentatively picked up the final item he had yet to appraise.

Even without the monocle, the incredible smoothness of the white stone’s surface was easily visible. Swallowing hard, Barnabas peered intently at the stone in his hand. Confirming it was a genuine White-Glow Stone, he started to stand up in shock, only to bang his shin hard against the desk.

Grimacing in pain, the Workshop Master let out a deep breath of admiration.

“H-how… how could such processing be possible…?”

Muttering that, Barnabas sat bolt upright as if struck by lightning. He dashed out of the room and limped toward the reception counter.

“What did the person who brought this wooden box look like?”

At the Workshop Master’s tone, which was far from his usual gentlemanly demeanor, the male receptionist blinked in confusion.

“Er, he had a rather unremarkable face. L-let me see… ah, he had a mustache.”

“Anything else? He didn’t give a name?”

“No, I’m sorry. He was a truly featureless person…”

“Which way did he go?”

“That too… my apologies.”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Barnabas, his face returning to its normal composed state, gave a light wave and turned on his heel. Pressing further wouldn’t yield a satisfactory answer.

However, the Workshop Master instinctively guessed the identity of the sender. It was likely the work of his beloved disciple who had departed for the frontier. Something had happened, and he had reached a state where he could produce these items.

Barnabas clenched his fist, his back stiffening at the various emotions surging from the bottom of his heart.

“Oh, damn! I feel like I really need a smoke right now.”

Hearing the Workshop Master’s foul language for the first time, Arnold, who was in the middle of a transmutation, hurriedly pulled back his focus before it could waver. He quickly finished the and looked up.

It had been less than five minutes since the receptionist had taken that dingy wooden box to the Workshop Master’s office. Judging by Barnabas’s excessive reaction, something extraordinary must have been inside.

The young Oni man stepped away from his workbench without a sound, walked past the reception counter, and headed outside the workshop. He beckoned to the idle gatekeepers, calling them into the shadows.

“Did a man with a wooden box just come by?”

“Yeah. Something wrong with him, Young Master?”

“Find him. Five gold coins for the one who does.”

At the exorbitant reward, the eyes of the two men changed instantly. They nodded to each other, and one hurried off immediately. He was likely going to call upon some thugs he knew. In the end, gold is what moves people most efficiently.

Hiding his look of contempt behind a smile, Arnold returned to the cramped space allotted to him. He had been searching for the whereabouts of his former colleague—whose face alone made a scream rise in his throat—but progress had been slow. Whether it was a secondment or a transfer, there should have been documents notifying the change. However, even after bribing the filing clerks to investigate, nothing of the sort had turned up.

Barnabas was likely hiding it cleverly. If that was the case, even Arnold couldn’t touch him. However, given the Workshop Master’s panic just now, he might finally have a lead on a weakness.

“No matter where you hide, I will find you, Mr. Ordinary.”

An ebony desk with a beautiful luster, and a sofa upholstered in black panther fur. A thick carpet covered the floor, and stuffed heads of terrifying monsters lined the walls.

In this quintessential room of luxury sat a man who looked entirely out of place. His clothes were humble, but he seemed to take care of his appearance; there were no frayed sleeves or sweat stains to be seen. His hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, with nothing about him to cause offense. Furthermore, he possessed a gaze that was calm yet filled with curiosity.

A common peddler would have been overwhelmed and flustered the moment they were shown into this room. But the person before him sat composed and perfectly at ease.

Leocadio, the master of the room, was unable to judge the true identity of this sudden visitor.

“I heard you are carrying a letter for me.”

“Yes, it is right here. Please, examine it.”

As the secretary had said, the seal was the familiar one of the Alvarez family. The sender’s name was Paula. Knowing the whereabouts of his beloved niece, who had run away from home last month without a word, Leocadio let out a quiet sigh of relief internally.

He opened the envelope with a sterling silver paper knife, steadied his breathing, and read the contents carefully. If anything had happened to his niece, being torn to pieces by his brother and nephews wouldn’t be the end of it.

The formal greeting, “I hope this finds you in good health,” met his eyes, and Leocadio felt a great weight lift from his chest. However, his expectation that a report on her current situation would follow was promptly betrayed.

The next thing written was this single sentence:

“Light it up first; then we’ll talk…?”

At the voice that had escaped his lips, the man who called himself Hans lifted his mustache into a smile. Then, from a rather plain wooden box, he slowly took something out.

It was an ominous-looking ornament decorated with bat wings. Having confirmed that Leocadio’s gaze was fixed on him, the peddler opened the wings to the left and right without ceremony, revealing the contents.

“Hoh, quite a large one.”

What appeared from within was a reasonably large White-Glow Stone. While it was a rare item, compared to the furniture equipped in this room, it wasn’t particularly expensive.

Hiding his waning expectations, Leocadio stood up and approached the ornament. Then, his eyes widened slightly. He had realized the finish on the surface was extraordinary.

His finger instinctively reached out to touch the stone emitting a white luster. And, unintentionally, mana flowed into it.

In the next instant, a burst of unbelievable brilliance pierced Leocadio’s retinas.

“Wh—What!?”

Leocadio was a wealthy merchant said to be known by everyone in the Capital for his refined features—characteristic of the Mazin race—and his bold trading prowess. That man now raised his voice in utter consternation.

“What on earth is this!?”