Once a fire has ignited, it doesn't go out so easily.
I'd been hoping the rumors would die down before the auction day, but in the end, the uproar surrounding the Changing Human Face never subsided.
Citry must have fanned the flames, and the young lady had caught fire.
According to rumor, she'd been pressuring her father, Lord Gradius, to raise a considerable sum of funds. I suppose she was still a child after all, no matter how mature she seemed on the surface. Her emotional control still had a long way to go.
In a normal year, a few buzz items would generate chatter before an auction, but this year's imperial capital was nothing but talk of the Changing Human Face.
Once something became that big of a topic, certain Hunters inevitably piled on, and contrary to my expectations, the situation had grown more chaotic than ever. Even heading to the lounge, the only subject of conversation was that.
It seemed the only people sick of it were Eva and me—the very parties responsible.
I was lazing around in the Clan Master's room when Citry appeared, brimming with fighting spirit, and set down a trunk case in front of me—larger than the one she'd shown me before.
Her pale pink eyes burned with a quiet flame. Not the overflowing energy of someone like Liz, but a restrained fighting will that kept its radiance locked inside.
"Between the marriage fund and everything else, I've gathered roughly nine hundred and ten million Gil. I'll nail it for certain. Tino chipped in a little too."
I'd told her she didn't need to gather any more… I'd fed her a fake upper limit to try to keep her in check, but her sheer popularity had me on the verge of a bitter laugh.
It felt like I'd sunk into a bottomless swamp. Now that things had gone this far, the reason I'd wanted the Changing Human Face in the first place was something I'd just have to carry to the grave.
Eva, who'd been running herself ragged trying to calm the situation for days, spoke with a strained expression.
"Krai, we're approaching eleven digits."
"…I know."
The only one who'd walk away a winner this time was probably Arnold, who'd brought in a Treasure Weapon. The auction house's commission scaled up with the sale price, so no matter who won the bid, the final amount landing in someone's pocket would be enormous compared to what had originally been expected.
The die was cast. There was no path of retreat for me now, and even if I backed off, the fire wouldn't die down.
I couldn't see where this would land. No matter how it played out, I couldn't see how this could work in my favor.
"What do you think?"
"Honestly, at this point the situation is unfavorable. When it comes to the Gradius earldy, there are plenty of trading companies willing to extend loans. How far Lord Gradius will listen to Miss Eclair's 'request' is the question—but Lord Gradius himself can be quite extreme, so…"
Ever since the auction-related turmoil began, Eva's expression hadn't improved once.
Power, assets, and military force. When a proper noble brought all three to bear, there was no way commoners like us could win head-on. I'd known that.
That was exactly why I'd gone to persuade her. I'd failed spectacularly at that, of course.
The perceptive Citry likely shared the same assessment. She gave a small nod and looked up at me from below.
"You're right. If I wanted to be absolutely safe, I'd negotiate with a trading company for a loan as well, but—"
"That won't be necessary."
"But—"
"It won't be necessary."
Her relentless pursuit of excellence as a top alchemist meant the potions she produced boasted higher efficacy than those of any other alchemist or apothecary—and generated enormous wealth.
If I went looking, I'd find plenty of trading companies willing to extend her credit. But they would understand as well as anyone what a loan at this juncture truly meant.
I'd already made her sell off backup equipment and her stockpile of potions, and taking on a loan now could damage her future activities. I couldn't allow that.
Citry puffed her cheeks out slightly, a dissatisfied look on her face, but when I smiled at her, she let it go with a resigned grin.
"…Understood. If you say so, Krai, then it must not be necessary. I don't know your reasons, but… Big sis could still bring home a valuable Treasure Weapon, after all."
"Yeah… mm, that's right."
I nodded along, but the chances of Liz bringing home a high-value Treasure Weapon were pretty slim.
Treasure Halls around the capital were the talk of every Hunter this time of year. Even if a Treasure Weapon appeared, someone would snap it up immediately—and besides, Treasure Weapons simply didn't show up that often. Liz was strong, but there was a limit to solo-climbing Treasure Halls.
No matter how things turned out, I'd caused trouble for everyone this time.
Citry, Liz, Eva, Tino—and Marchis, too.
And then there were the Clan members who'd felt humiliated simply because their Master was at the center of the whole mess.
This auction wasn't a war. It was supposed to be a festival—something meant to be fun.
What a disaster. I'd never again borrow money on behalf of everyone for the sake of a Treasure Weapon.
I rubbed my forehead and loosened my facial muscles.
Right—enjoy the auction. This wasn't a war. I wouldn't die without that Treasure Weapon, and if the young lady I'd acquired ended up disappointed, that was her problem, not mine.
"At this point, all we can do is leave it to fate. When the auction's over, let's celebrate."
"That sounds lovely. We should invite Miss Eclair as well."
Citry said with a beaming smile. She seemed absolutely certain of victory.
Now that I thought about it, wasn't the root of all this trouble Ark—the guy who'd brought that young lady here in the first place?
Right. I'd have Ark treat us to the celebration. I didn't say it aloud, but I engraved the decision in my heart.
One day until the auction began. Finally, the battle was about to start.
§ § § There were moments when a proud noble of Zebuldia simply could not back down. Moments when even a foolish point of pride had to be upheld.
The Gradius family was not a poor noble house. Their territory wasn't the largest compared to other families, but their knights—renowned for surpassing even Hunters—maintained order, and the Treasure Halls within their domain attracted Hunters whose spending kept the region prosperous.
Even so, for a noble family of sufficient standing, two hundred million Gil was by no means a trivial sum. It far exceeded what Eclair, who was neither the current head nor anything close to it, could spend at her own discretion.
After that loathsome meeting with the Thousand Transformations—the report of its contents and the news that two hundred million Gil would be needed—her father, Lord Gradius, had spoken.
A deep crimson coat. A single sword at his waist. Neatly kept chestnut hair. Eyes too sharp for a noble, and a physique honed through training.
Eclair's father—Van Gradius—was a noble and a warrior. A man who sometimes personally took to the front lines to lead his knights.
Under the weight of that piercing gaze, the anger Eclair harbored was quelled in an instant. Rationality returned to her head.
"…Very well. Win, Eclair. It is foolish—during peacetime, competing over a Treasure Weapon I'll never even use against that infamous 'Footprint'… I would prefer to avoid that—but if I were to face them directly and back down here, that would be a disgrace to the Gradius name. Child or not, if word spread that we were intimidated by a Hunter, there would be no facing our ancestors."
His tone was quiet, but Eclair felt an immense pressure pressing down from those words.
In truth, this whole affair had started with Eclair herself.
After seeing off Ark, she had encountered the man called his rival—and the Treasure Weapon that man was pursuing with such desperate abandon. Before she knew it, she had been gathering intelligence and storming into taverns.
That kind of thoughtless, impulsive behavior was what this father despised most.
When Eclair tried to thank him, Lord Gradius furrowed his brow and spoke clearly.
"Don't misunderstand. We have no money to squander. I am lending it to you, Eclair. You will repay it. You may be a child, but you carry the blood of Gradius—your actions carry consequences. Perhaps I indulged you too freely as my first daughter. But this may be an opportunity."
"This is an order from the head of House Gradius. You will secure the victory, no matter what. Gradius has no use for the weak. And you shall learn firsthand the results of your own actions. I will have Montour provide full cooperation. He is a thoughtful man."
Those words were an unmistakable indictment.
She had to win. The humiliation had been her fault, and she would have to wash that fact away with her own hands.
"My lady. I have contacted the Vels Trading Company and secured an agreement for a loan of funds should the need arise."
In the reception room of their capital estate, an elderly man approached the expressionless Eclair and delivered his report.
His intelligent eyes, unfazed by Eclair's foul mood. His gentle tone.
Montour. The right hand of Earl Gradius. A man who served the earldom in ways that had nothing to do with military might.
"…How much can I use?"
"Of the funds held in reserve by the household, the amount my lady may use without issue is approximately—five hundred million Gil. Additionally, the Vels Trading Company can extend a further—five hundred million in financing. While it would not be impossible to arrange even more beyond that, the repayment would be extremely difficult."
"…An additional… five… hundred… million…?"
At words from Montour—a man she had known since childhood—Eclair's eyes went wide.
The amount that loathsome woman had declared was—two hundred million. If they could assemble two and a half times that, victory seemed assured. But according to Montour, he had negotiated with the trading company and secured a promise for a loan as well.
Eclair's expression shifted, and Montour softened his normally mild-mannered features.
"My lady. No competitor at an auction ever reveals their true upper limit honestly. Moreover, your opponent is the Thousand Transformations—a man of great cunning. And more importantly, as far as my investigation goes—the amount the woman who arrived with the Thousand Transformations, Citry Smart, can prepare easily exceeds two hundred million Gil."
"What did you say…!?"
At that unbelievable piece of information, Eclair's mind went blank.
That woman had declared war so brazenly. She had stated outright that if Eclair could raise more than two hundred million, she would concede.
Would anyone lie to a noble?
The gentle features of the woman who had stood beside the Thousand Transformations surfaced in her mind.
It was impossible to believe. No—she didn't want to believe it.
"That's… absurd… She—she said that if I raise more than two hundred million Gil, she would acknowledge defeat! If I prepare two hundred million, she should… surrender…"
"My lord has requested a certain victory for my lady. It is best to be prepared. A surprise attack is fundamental even on the battlefield. In truth, one might say the information war prior to an auction is the real battle."
Montour spoke matter-of-factly to the despondent Eclair.
Certain victory. Preparation. Montour's words were sound.
What she needed was to meet her father's expectations.
Eclair's shoulders slumped and she trembled weakly for a time before wringing out a response.
"…Yes. Thank you. You're right. I should… make preparations."
This was simply a precaution. If she won with two hundred million Gil, that was that. If by some unlikely chance that wasn't enough, she could simply crush them with everything she had.
The auction was just days away—the truth would be revealed soon enough.
She clenched her fist, lowered her gaze, and steeled herself with quiet words. Montour watched her with a gentle expression.