Round 22: The Deal

Kani clearly hadn’t expected Moriel to demand a share so directly. She held her glass, staring intently into Moriel’s beautiful brown eyes in an attempt to discern some clue, but found nothing. When it came to hiding secrets, a Red Robe Mage specialized in prophecy was truly unmatched.

Forty-Seven also changed his posture. He placed his hand on the armrest and tapped it gently, no longer looking around, his gaze like burning coals scanning Kani and Nancy’s faces. Moriel’s words excited him—this situation was very similar to the gang negotiations he had witnessed many times in movies but never had the chance to participate in. In his era, gangs no longer existed; they had either been eliminated or turned into supercorporations controlling entire planets or galaxies. Such low-grade entertainment as movies and animations mostly existed only in archives. People sought thrills either in reality or in virtual reality. Anyway, killers like Forty-Seven could appear at any moment due to conflicts among the oligarchs and destroy entire colonial cities, or simply fire a nuclear bomb to blow everything to pieces. Forty-Seven waited, waiting for the outcome of the negotiations—or rather, waiting for the violence that would follow such negotiations, which he believed were almost certain to fail.

Kani shifted uncomfortably, a slight movement, but Moriel noticed it.

“Kani, this request might be presumptuous,” Moriel said, taking the bottle to fill Kani’s glass. “But you know, I’ve been away from the Red Robe Mage order for years, with little contact with you all. And with my former mentor, Isabella…”

At the mention of Isabella’s name, Moriel felt a shiver of disgust run through his body—as if countless cockroaches had suddenly crawled all over him. But he concealed it well, not showing it to Kani. “My relationship with my former mentor, Isabella, is very poor. That’s no secret.”

“I came to Deepflow City because I’m looking for a girl… um…” Moriel deliberately hesitated, expressing the emotion just right. “My apprentice. She stole a very precious magical item from me and ran away… Well, you know how these things are.”

“Oh, Moriel. Really something for you—to start your own apprenticeship after leaving the Red Robe Mage order!” Kani laughed with interest. “Your personality is really similar to Teacher Isabella… Hey, do you want to catch a disobedient kitten? I can help you!”

Moriel shook his head. “No, Kani, it’s not that simple. I do need your help… So I want to do business with you in magical drugs. If we engage in drug trafficking, you should be able to get in touch with some of Deepflow City’s underground forces. So I think being your partner would be a good choice. You have connections with the Cult of the Dark Sun too, right? Kani, listen to me. I don’t think we should cooperate with them… Xeric’s servants aren’t good business partners.”

Kani quickly realized she had no choice. By the mage’s intuition, she could sense that Moriel was now a far more powerful mage than herself, with a broader and deeper mastery of the magic network—a straightforward hierarchy for red-robed mages: the strong rule.
“Welcome, Moriel!” Kani stood up from the sofa and went over to hug her. “It’s great that you can help me. Now I won’t have to look to Jali for approval or put up with those damned holy warrior bitches all the time! Do you know how much I lost because of that crazy woman’s attack tonight?”
“But Moriel… I had no choice but to work with the Shirek believers.” In an instant, the female dwarf began to complain with a troubled expression. She was barely taller than Moriel when standing. “Although I’m not entirely sure, the lords of Deepflow City have strengthened their cooperation with those holy knights. I’ve already suffered several serious losses… If this continues, I won’t be able to handle it! I need the Shirek Church’s underground network. Other organizations, aside from those servants of darkness, can hardly steal my goods and get away with it. Moriel, I know you don’t have a good opinion of these lawless guys, and I’ve heard a few things too, but please understand—I’m under huge pressure. It’s hard for me, so… I’m afraid…”
“Kani, what do you think drugs are?” Moriel suddenly asked.
“What are drugs?” Kani was puzzled. “What else could they be? They’re…”
“Drugs are luxuries,” Moriel said patiently. “Only truly bored, wealthy people who don’t know what to do with their money can enjoy drugs… without causing us trouble. Kani, if a mage doesn’t have the right materials to cast spells or can’t write spells on special scrolls using special ink, he’ll soon die from the angry backlash of the magic network due to recklessly disturbing it. You’ve seen such tragedies before, right? Why? Because casting magic comes with conditions. If we pay the right price, we can use magic correctly and control its power; otherwise, we’ll suffer the consequences… The same goes for drugs. If you don’t have money, don’t touch drugs. They’re a luxury for a few people, just like mages who are always in the minority. How much profit can those dockworkers and unstable adventurers make? They can barely afford to smoke a bit of Devil’s Grass every day! Once these guys have no money and lack self-control, they’ll cause trouble over drugs—fights, robberies, even killing. And if you make them your main customers, you need a large consumer base. With so many people immersed in magical drugs, even a small number causing trouble will disrupt order… How could they not face severe crackdowns from the rulers of Deepflow City?”

“Kani, when it comes to the drug business, the Red Robe Mages’ strategy of producing large quantities of cheap magical items for sale won’t work. You need to recruit top talent. Who are Hzerik’s followers? Liars, robbers, thugs, killers, sadists—they take pleasure in spreading chaos and fear, finding joy in others’ suffering. They don’t care what kind of business is best; they see drugs merely as tools to control poor people, utterly unaware of the importance of balance and order. How could they seriously protect your interests? Cut them off, Kani. If there were fewer of Hzerik’s followers in this world, life would be much better.”
Forty-Seven rarely heard Moriel speak so at length. The female mage now appeared extremely charming—wise and eloquent like a politician promoting genocide. If Forty-Seven had broader experiences, he might have described her as a “Devil of the Nine Hells.”
Kani still hesitated: “But Jali has tightly controlled the network of relationships with the Deep Stream City Merchant Alliance. Not to mention me, even other Red Robe Mages find it hard to interfere… And I’ve just struck a huge deal with Hzerik’s Church—huge profits. If I lose it, my position in the stronghold will be very difficult…”
“I’ll help you negotiate that deal,” Forty-Seven interrupted suddenly, drawing the attention of the three women in the room. “I’ll go with you then—trust me, the profits will be even greater… extremely large.”
Moriel was the first to recover her composure and smiled at Kani.
“Yes, I think the profits will indeed be very large.”
When Chloé opened her eyes, it was still completely dark outside.
For some reason, the more comfortable the bed, the worse Chloé slept. Last night, she seemed to have had nightmares all night long, but when she tried to recall them in the morning, she couldn’t remember a single fragment. She only felt a slight headache and her eyes were unbearably dry. Chloé jumped out of bed and did a few graceful somersaults in her underwear—she needed to adjust herself quickly. If this continued, she might age prematurely.
Actually, it was all the fault of the owner of this house, that hospitable fat merchant, a disgusting man. Last night, after Moriel and Forty-Seven left for the Red Robe Mages’ stronghold, they never returned. Only later did the Red Robe Mages send a message saying they would stay at the stronghold. Chloé wasn’t worried about their safety. With Forty-Seven’s personality, even if Hzerik himself came after him, it would probably cause a huge uproar. So from dinner until long before bedtime, Chloé had to endure Freys’s endless monologues, like the endless flow of the Tanor River’s water. From cooking techniques to customs of various races, from travel experiences to local products, from treasure appraisal to business insights, from warfare to religious beliefs—it seemed as if this merchant was a super encyclopedia that had been recording everything since the world’s creation, with nothing he didn’t know.

Anyone who’s kept awake all night by noise probably won’t sleep well afterward. Chloe even thought that, with Freys’s eloquence, he was definitely qualified to negotiate with the devils of the Nine Hells. She even wished Simon were there too, so that Freys would focus on Simon’s betrayal and deceit, allowing her to listen to her master’s endless chatter less seriously—or at least not have to pretend to be that serious. Speaking of which, where had Freys taken that kid, Simon? Surely not locked in some private dungeon? She hadn’t seen him since lunch yesterday.

The female swordsman moved around a bit, her joints making soft sounds as she stretched, making Chloe feel much better. By the time she got dressed and left the bedroom, the first rays of dawn had just begun to touch the tops of the tallest buildings in Deepflow City.

“Good morning, Miss Chloe! How did you sleep last night?”

Chloe was quite surprised to find Freys alone on a double sofa in the living room, leisurely enjoying his breakfast. She hadn’t expected such a fat merchant to get up so early.

“Very well. Your hospitality is truly thoughtful—I feel a bit embarrassed,” Chloe replied insincerely as she sat down on the sofa next to him. Immediately, servants brought drinks and snacks in an endless stream—enough for Chloe to last a day. Not to mention the variety of pastries; there were several types of drinks to choose from as well: rice wine, black tea, fruit juice, milk, ice-cold water… It was bizarre—who drinks ice water in such cold weather?

“You got up really early. I…” Chloe forced down the rest of her sentence, “I thought someone with your figure would definitely sleep until noon.” After all, she was living at his expense, and it was only 47 who really had a relationship with Freys. She decided to stay for a short while before going out for the day until Morriel and the others returned, so as to avoid another night of being bombarded with words.

“Hehe, as a merchant, one has to get up early if there’s no profit. It’s tough,” Freys sighed as if burdened, but Chloe thought he was choking because he’d swallowed a pastry whole. “Not to mention traveling and sleeping outdoors while doing business, and once I get home, I still have to deal with the daily tasks of the guild—all sorts of trivial matters bothering me. Even if there’s one less box of beer, they make a fuss over it. Do you think such a trivial box of beer is worth all the hassle…”

Here we go again. Chloe quickly cut him off, ready to leave. “Mr. Freys, actually, this is my first time in Deepflow City. I plan to go out for a walk in a bit. It would be a shame not to see such a bustling city.”

Freys’s grim expression instantly softened as he put down his tea. “Oh? Oh my, look at me—I actually forgot about that. Damn it, I need to go out to handle some matters too. How about we take my carriage? I can show you the famous sights of Deepflow City along the way…”

Now Chloe regretted it deeply.

By the time they reached the gate, a brand-new, luxurious carriage was already parked in the small square, its bits gleaming in the morning light. Two strong bodyguards stood on the footrests behind the carriage, while sitting beside the servant Mann in the driver’s seat was none other than the dejected Simon.
“Good morning, Mr. Freys, Miss Chloe,” Simon said listlessly upon seeing them.
Freys puffed out his cheeks and said nothing before climbing into the carriage. Chloe shrugged at Simon; she had almost guessed why the fat merchant wanted her to accompany them. If Freys intended to seize Simon’s ship, he needed to prevent Simon and his crew from acting dishonestly. Though the fearsome forty-seven was not there to intimidate them with just a glare, having her around could still serve as a deterrent to the sailors who might soon lose their jobs. This fat merchant really knew how to recruit help—Chloe didn’t realize it was already not the first time Freys had done this.
The carriage moved smoothly and soon left the city to enter the dock area. It traveled south along the long street of the dock market, eventually arriving at a relatively quiet small dock—Freys’ private dock. There, moored after repairs, was the Hermit Crab. Deepstream City was indeed the largest port in the north, with astonishing efficiency.
Freys pushed the reluctant Simon forward. “Hurry up! The Northern Business Alliance has approved my request, and I already have the ruling. This broken ship is now my property!”
“The ruling… who knows if it wasn’t you who stamped it yourself,” Simon muttered, but he had no choice but to get off the carriage and stand aside.
The crew of the Hermit Crab had long been impatient. Under the watch of the guild’s guards, they were making a racket. They had been detained and locked up in a small room all night as soon as they landed, with no chance to see beer or dancers, let alone boast about their thrilling experiences to others. How could they bear it?
“We’re free sailors! Why are we being detained? How can Deepstream City treat sailors like this? Captain Simon, what’s going on?” As soon as they saw Freys and the others, the sailors, led by the second officer, immediately started shouting. Only Rol remained silent, his face grim—he knew this must be related to their good captain.
“Sailors? More like pirates…” Freys muttered, glancing at his servant Mann. Mann stepped forward immediately, took out a scroll from his bosom, unrolled it, and read aloud. It stated that the Hermit Crab now belonged to Freys, and that these crew members were now his employees, forced to work to pay off the debts owed by their former captain.
Chloe listened to the arbitration decision of the guild alliance and felt deeply that these merchants were simply too ruthless.
The sailors began cursing—half at Simon, who kept bringing them bad luck, and the other half at the heartless fat merchant.
“We won’t hand over the Hermit Crab to you! Fat worm!” Perhaps because of their experiences in the Great Vortex and Fishman Island, these survivors had become much braver and more determined. They quickly reached a consensus: “Who says the Hermit Crab belongs to Simon?”

“That’s right! That guy Simon has nothing—he’s not our captain either! On the Hermit Crab, he’s only in charge of steering!”
“The Hermit Crab is something we fought hard to get! Fat idiot, don’t try to take our ship! If you don’t believe me, ask Miss Chloe next to you!”
“Cough! Cough!” Flesse saw the situation getting out of control. Though there were only a dozen sailors, it wouldn’t be good if things escalated. He coughed sharply twice: “The judgment of the Merchant Alliance is fair! Simon himself admitted that he owns this ship! You’re just sailors—who has ever heard of sailors owning a ship? Stop arguing! Of course, to show my magnanimity, I’ll consider your working hours reasonably. Gentlemen, since you’ve boarded this fraud’s ship and become his sailors, you must share the responsibilities with him! It’s only fair! Otherwise, you won’t have a place in any port or on any ship!”
“Wait! I can prove this ship isn’t Simon’s! He’s not the owner either!” A voice suddenly came from among the sailors.
With that, the thin man named 26 stepped forward: “This ship belongs to the noble Steel Guest No. 47! We were in trouble at sea, and the Hermit Crab was nearby—Mr. 47 was the first to board this ship with no owner!”
26 stood straight as an arrow: “According to maritime customs, since Mr. 47 was the first to board the Hermit Crab without an owner, it naturally belongs to him—he’s not a crew member like us! Since he and his Hermit Crab saved us, working as sailors on the Hermit Crab means working for Mr. 47. Sir, you have no right to detain us! It’s true that Captain Simon was once our captain and my master, but from the day he started working on the Hermit Crab, he lost that right! What you’re doing now is equivalent to stealing from Mr. 47!”
“I—” Flesse stared at 26, who stood so defiantly, and was strangely speechless. Stealing from 47?
“Oh? Who wants to steal from me?” A metallic voice came from behind him, instantly making him collapse.