Chapter 107: It’s All Business

Contrary to the entrenched beliefs of people in this world, Wu Qingsong held no particular reverence for elves or anything related to them. He wasn’t intimidated merely by their association, having read too much about people exploiting others’ power in books. If this matter escalated to Marquis Osaga, he would actually feel less apprehensive. Excluding living witnesses, he had preserved all relevant evidence. He could argue that the Osaga Merchant Guild, motivated by personal vendettas, instigated conflicts among the mercenary groups, leading to severe consequences. 

Who would then bear the greater blame?

From previous events, it appeared Marquis Osaga did not highly value the individual Wu had killed, and perhaps was not deeply concerned about Esola either. Moreover, the Marquis did not seem like someone who would irrationally defend his people without reason.

Would they dare to escalate the matter to that level?

If they didn’t, Wu Qingsong felt no fear in playing their covert games. Who should he fear now?

The houndmen soon apprehended several scouts from the Osaga Merchant Guild. Seizing the opportunity to send these men back to Esola, Harold, the deputy leader of the Thirteenth Mercenary Group, met with the Osaga Merchant Guild’s relatively ‘younger’ deputy manager in the Esola region.

“I am Angelo More from the Osaga Merchant Guild. And you are?”

“I’m Harold, deputy leader of the Thirteenth Mercenary Group.”

“So it is you,” More’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he said, “Please, have a seat.”

Before entering the Merchant Guild, it was standard procedure to confiscate all weapons. Harold’s pigman warriors were kept outside, under close surveillance. However, Ling, appearing as an unthreatening maid, didn’t fall under this rule. She stood behind Harold, holding a stack of documents, seeming frail and harmless. Unbeknownst to anyone, the boards used to clamp the documents could transform into formidable weapons at any moment.

In the room, two bearman bodyguards stood behind More, making the other side–with an aged, disabled wolfman and a seemingly delicate girl–seem less formidable.

“Not sure what you mean by–” More began in a measured tone, trying to control the conversation and its rhythm. But he was suddenly thrown off by Harold’s interjection.

“Maylo Benstem is dead.”

“What did you say!” More nearly shrieked in shock.

“We found his body near the Greg Mines this morning. He seems to have unfortunately encountered those bandits last night and was killed along with all his subordinates,” Harold explained. “My condolences, Mr. More.”

“You…” 

The news profoundly shocked More.

As Benstem’s deputy, he was fully aware of his boss’s mission. When the Thirteenth Mercenary Group brought the heads that morning, he too was startled. After all, it was not every day one saw hundreds of heads displayed in such a manner.

More initially thought this was simply a conflict between mercenary groups. Even if the Thirteenth Mercenary Group emerged victorious and the defeated mercenaries confessed, he believed they wouldn’t have the reason or audacity to harm anyone from the Osaga Merchant Guild. At most, they might temporarily restrain them.

But to his shock, they had killed Benstem.

How could mere lowly mercenaries dare to kill a distinguished guild manager?

Instinctively, he wanted his bearman bodyguards to capture the two opposite him, but he managed to hold back. However, his demeanor instantly turned frosty.

“So, what else do you have to say?”

“We deeply regret this incident,” Harold began. “But precisely because we’ve suffered the same misfortune, Lord Tagraedi feels our two parties should join forces against a common enemy and collaborate closely to prevent such tragedies from happening again.”

“Join forces? Collaborate closely?” More found these suggestions laughably absurd, scoffing at the notion.

Them, preventing similar tragedies? Was this some sort of threat?

“Do you realize what you’re suggesting?” he asked, his tone icy.

But Harold remained composed, looking at More as if he had just stated an indisputable fact.

He had already obtained some insights about Angelo More from the captured mercenaries.

Top leaders and their deputies in any organization rarely form a united front, especially in an organization like a merchant guild. A deputy manager was often appointed to oversee the manager. Typically, both parties would tacitly establish their respective interests, forming a somewhat stable balance of power. But this balance always tested their patience and ambition.

The more dominant and long-standing a leader was, the more the deputy tended to aspire to take their place. This dynamic was no exception for these two.

According to the captives, Angelo More had been the deputy manager for six solid years. The current question was whether he had the audacity and desire to vie for the manager’s position.

“Sir, Lord Tagraedi is immensely grateful for Marquis Osaga’s favor and has always sought ways to reciprocate. Minor misunderstandings have created barriers between us, but now that they are resolved, we have a foundation for collaboration,” Harold said. “In essence, our organizations should be considered allies. Many matters should be easier to communicate and reach a consensus for us, wouldn’t you agree?”

More instantly grasped the insinuation. A thought briefly flickered in his mind, but he kept his expression neutral as he responded, “Misunderstandings? I’m not quite familiar with that. However, if the leader of the Tagraedi Corps says so, it must have some basis. I am intrigued, though, in what aspects do you believe we can find common ground?”

“You’re surely aware that the Thirteenth Mercenary Group possesses its own trading convoy and distribution networks,” Harold stated. “But as our group continues to grow, managing everything in-house has become impractical. Lord Tagraedi is considering collaboration with the Osaga Merchant Guild on certain matters, benefiting from your professional expertise.”

“What specific projects?” More probed.

“The distribution of chainmail and iron ore, along with the procurement of food and various everyday supplies. There are numerous areas where we could collaborate effectively, provided there is genuine interest and intent from both sides. All aspects are open for discussion.”

“Exclusive rights?” More quickly asked.

“Of course, the Thirteenth Mercenary Group’s own trading teams can’t be completely excluded. However, as long as the terms are favorable, your guild would be our preferred partner.”

“I don’t have the authority to make such decisions,” More responded, sensing an advantage. “Given the grave nature of Manager Benstem’s untimely demise, headquarters will likely send investigators. We’ll have to see what they decide.”

“You’re being unduly modest, sir. Esola is on the cusp of revitalization, presenting immense opportunities. Halting progress due to Manager Benstem’s unfortunate death and allowing other guilds to seize the initiative, would surely be a missed opportunity. Wouldn’t such a delay displease the headquarters? At a time like this, someone must step up to take this critical responsibility. Who, if not you, is equipped to shoulder this task at this crucial juncture?”

More subtly lifted his chin, clearly finding satisfaction in Harold’s words, which, even if they were mere formalities or insincere, hit right at his desires.

“Sir,” Harold pressed on, “the Thirteenth Mercenary Group is Esola’s largest and most powerful. Following last night’s confrontation, I believe no one will doubt this anymore. With our support, the Osaga Mercantile Guild is poised to benefit immensely. You must recognize that bureaucratic solutions aren’t always effective. Often, a mercenary corps can prove more trustworthy. With our backing, would you still have any apprehensions about potential repercussions?”

This proposition genuinely piqued More’s interest. Before, the Osaga Mercantile Guild hadn’t dominated in Esola, but the recent cataclysmic insect invasion had cleared the field, bringing fresh opportunities. Seizing this moment could secure his position as a manager. Moreover, if he could extract a significant sum from the Thirteenth Mercenary Group to grease palms at the headquarters, his ambition would be nearly assured.

In light of such prospects, Benstem’s demise seemed less of a misfortune and more of a boon, even worth some calculated risks. Yet, with no concrete benefits in sight, why should he trust Harold’s assurances?

Even if a partnership was on the table, he, More, would have to be the dominant party.

“Let me put it this way,” More proposed. “I understand Captain Tagraedi’s intentions, and your willingness is appreciated. Yet, you should realize that a large guild like Osaga operates by its own set of rules, and many things aren’t as straightforward as you might think. They require considerable effort and various strategies. However, with enough determination and sincerity, nothing is impossible. I’m optimistic that if your intentions are truly genuine, the situation will develop favorably.”

At this juncture, if the wolfman were prudent, he would return to report to his superior and promptly deliver a portion of their ‘sincerity’ as an initial gesture. They needed to carefully weigh how much sincerity would suffice to persuade him to conceal this incident.

To More’s annoyance, Harold remained seated, showing no intention of departing.

“Mr. Harold,” More then said, indicating his lack of further patience. “I have many engagements, so I won’t detain you any longer. Please, feel free to leave.”

“Lord More,” Harold finally stood, yet still didn’t seem ready to leave. “You’ll soon see our sincerity, but before that, there are matters that need clarification.”

More’s expression soured at this audacity. The wolfman was overstepping, presuming himself to be more significant than he was.

“Please,” he instructed the bearmen guards behind him, “escort Mr. Harold out. And do so gently. We wouldn’t want to harm his old bones.”

“Ha!” The two bearmen guards, visibly bored with the prolonged formalities, cracked their necks and wrists. They lumbered past More and approached Harold. 

“Old man, would you prefer to walk out yourself, or shall we assist you in exiting?”

“Ling,” Harold stepped back. 

This prompted an almost amused reaction from More. However, with a ‘puff,’ the movements of the bearmen halted abruptly before they heavily collapsed forward.

Blood seeped out beneath them, quickly saturating the carpet.

Ling, looking pale, stood before their bodies, took a deep breath, and then silently moved back behind Harold.

“This, too, is part of our sincerity, as you’ve now seen,” Harold stated. “Mr. More, we are prepared to fully back you, eliminate any barriers, and pave your way. You should now realize that we possess both the will and the means. But if you become an obstacle yourself, guess what the outcome might be?”

Struck pale, More was speechless.

Harold, however, approached and firmly grasped his hand. “Many in the Osaga Mercantile Guild would be thrilled to collaborate with us, but Mr. More, we trust you. At least for the moment. So, shall we anticipate a fruitful partnership?”