Episode 25: Feeling Reborn (2)
“It sounded like there was some kind of problem with the tables for the tournament arena.
Since your mind is back to being that clever boy from long ago, you can go and solve it for them.”
“Kamran, you aren’t even trying to hide how much you’re enjoying this.”
“Of course not.
I always preferred the cheeky brat who yelled at me to live properly over the tragic male courtesan you’ve been playing.
That role suits you far too well, and that’s exactly why I hate it.”
“Ha…”
Letting out a sigh even deeper than Kamran’s, Iskandel descended the steep hill and its endless stairs.
Kamran, noticing that not only his appetite but his very movements were clearly different from how they had been in the Capital, brightened and moved closer to his side.
“In any case, Your Highness, you may not realize it, but a proper romance and a healthy relationship often begin when you lend a hand in a difficult situation.
This is perfect for someone at your level.
It’s a good opportunity.”
“…The world really ought to know that you are the source of my sarcastic way of speaking.”
“That’s my own secret point of pride.
That everything good I know, I learned from you, and everything bad you know, you learned from me.”
The man Iskandel relied on more than his own blood relatives squared his shoulders with a playful expression.
The two men, who could read each other’s thoughts without a word, hurried on in silence.
By the time they passed through the inner fortress and the lower village to reach the central village, the guards at the gate were flexing their hands on their sword hilts, clearly itching for an excuse to find fault.
Iskandel answered them with an ostentatiously bright wink.
Leaving the grimacing mountains of muscle behind, he stepped into the communal work area and let out a mischievous chuckle.
“I love it when people who hate me make that face when they see me.”
“That personality is not something I taught you; you were born with it. Let’s be very clear about that.”
His laughter echoed through the trade-warehouse district, where heavy stone arches stretched on and on.
Hashana, who had been staring down at a puddle with a troubled expression, looked up at the sound and spotted him.
“You’re awake?
How did you… get here?”
“I heard there was a problem and thought I might be able to help.
This isn’t somewhere I shouldn’t be, is it?”
“No.”
Kamran narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight of Hashana, who couldn’t quite meet Iskandel’s gaze, then quietly backed away.
Iskandel shot his guard a look as the man slipped away like a snake, then strode over to the puddle where Hashana was standing.
The closer he got, the more the sharp scent pricked at his nose.
“The smell is quite strong, isn’t it?”
A troubled smile touched Hashana’s lips as she watched Iskandel’s brow furrow unconsciously.
“It was supposed to be a VIP table for the tournament arena.
To scent it, we soaked the solid plank in low-grade agarwood oil, but overnight, the quality of the oil improved so much that it became this.
It’s… vexing.”
“It’s because someone put my creation in an exceptionally good mood, and now the entire capital is overflowing with blessings.
Since you’re the one who caused it, you can take responsibility and put that clever head of yours to work.
Isn’t it the role of a cultural envoy to show us how you handle situations like this in the Imperial Capital?”
Rsanda, who had been standing beside Hashana with her arms crossed, let the spiteful words slip out.
She gave Iskandel a little shove toward Hashana before stepping back a good distance to watch how things unfolded.
Kamran, who had already withdrawn to lean against an arched wall, bowed his head politely to the goddess.
“Do you think your master is going to live up to my expectations?”
“My master always exceeds expectations.”
Just as Rsanda was about to retort, a temple attendant came running in a panic and dropped to her knees before Hashana.
“Lady Hashana!
There is a serious problem!
The oils we had stored in the warehouse…!”
“The oils?
What about them?”
“I think it would be less awkward for everyone if we explained that part ourselves, saintess.”
A dancer in a red costume glided up behind the temple woman and sank into a graceful curtsy.
When Hashana gave a small nod of acknowledgment, the dancer let out a coquettish sigh and began to speak.
“It’s about the oils you prepared for us last time.
We received a great many complaints that they had gone rancid.
It wasn’t just one or two people; most of our regular buyers said the same thing, which put us in a very difficult position.
That’s why, this time, we asked to verify the quality of the product before buying anything.”
“And when you checked, all the oils stored in our warehouse were rancid as well?”
The temple woman who had arrived first held out a small glass bottle she had been cradling in both hands.
Iskandel frowned slightly at the sight of the sealed container.
The dancer, bowing her head with exaggerated politeness, didn’t see his expression; she kept her eyes fixed on the bottle in Hashana’s hand and spoke in a regretful tone.
“This year has been unusually hot, so we thought perhaps the wax seals had melted or lifted.
It might be best to completely overhaul the warehouse…”
“Ah…”
Iskandel, who had been listening quietly, gently tugged on Hashana’s sleeve to stop her from apologizing, asking with his eyes if he could step in.
When Hashana gave a small nod, he immediately turned to question the dancer.
“If the last batch was faulty, you should have told us as soon as you arrived in Durgtah.
As I recall, your troupe reached the city before our delegation did.
Why wait until now?”
“The saintess and the temple staff all seemed so busy welcoming guests that I missed my chance to speak with them.
And since this is Durgtah’s main trade good, I thought it best to be cautious and bring it up carefully.”
“And while you were being so cautious, you just happened to come running to make a scene the moment this agarwood started causing trouble?”
The dancer pressed her lips together, unable to find a retort.
Iskandel snapped at her in a deliberately biting tone, then took the glass bottle from Hashana and sniffed it.
As the dancer had claimed, the sticky liquid smeared on the outside of the bottle did have the musty smell of oxidized oil.
He raised one eyebrow and began tossing the bottle high into the air and catching it, all the while locking eyes with the dancer.
His message was clear: if the seal were truly faulty, the oil would be leaking by now.
Otherwise, she had nothing to complain about.
The dancer stood frozen, unable to refute his logic.
Keeping his gaze on the dancer, who had fallen silent and was unable to come up with an excuse, he leaned in close to Hashana’s ear and whispered.
“What would you think about taking this opportunity to renegotiate your contracts with the traveling merchants? We could compare the prices I know from the Imperial Capital with the prices here in Durgtah and determine what goods and prices make sense for trade.”
Hashana looked back and forth between the dancer, who was smiling as if nothing were wrong, and the man whose lips were curved in an almost identical faint arc, then nodded stiffly.
“I think we should do as Your Highness suggests.” She turned to the temple woman.
“I will inspect the warehouse myself and make the final decision.
You will prepare a summary of how much we lost on the last transaction.”
We aren’t here to demand compensation for our losses.”
“Regardless of your intentions, that is what I have decided.
Does that require further explanation?”
“…My apologies.”
Hashana watched with a complicated expression as the dancer retreated, looking defeated, and the temple woman shrank back, full of nervous guilt now that she realized her mistake.
‘I’ve been far too soft.
I’ve made a mockery of not only myself but Rsanda’s name as well.’
She took several deep breaths, forcing down the surge of humiliation, then called out a warning to the temple woman who was hesitantly following the dancer.
“From now on, you must get my permission before opening the warehouse to any outsiders.”
“I’m sorry!
I will!”
“Good.
I’ll go to the warehouse once we’re finished here.
Until then, tell the guards to keep a close watch.
And have everyone connected to the merchant caravan wait in front of the oil warehouse.”
The temple woman bowed repeatedly as she backed away.
The craftsmen and other temple staff who had been standing around the puddle with worried faces also quietly withdrew, wary of her reaction, until only four people were left in the dim communal work area.
The atmosphere had grown even heavier than the thick agarwood scent, and Iskandel, feeling stifled, deliberately lightened his tone.
“What were we talking about again?
You were worried that the scent had soaked so deeply into this wood that you couldn’t possibly use it as a table—”
“Don’t you dare gloss this over, son of man.
Those dancers are priests of Disorde.
They serve my friend, and they dared to take advantage of my saintess’s predicament right before my eyes.
Why do you think I let them walk away in one piece?”
“Because I mediated the situation with my usual finesse?”
“No.
Because it feels like you’re still hiding something.
I’m going to hear everything, then decide whether to take their heads or slit their bellies.”
Iskandel had no intention of getting deeply involved; he had wanted to wrap things up and return to the agarwood problem.
But when Rsanda, still leaning against the wall, fixed him with a vicious stare, he had no choice but to share what he knew.
“As the saintess is aware, I have a hobby of wasting money on pretty, utterly useless things.
So I’ve been using these adorable little oil bottles as lamps, with a wick stuck in them.”
“The dancers said there was no oil better than this for loosening tight muscles after they dance, so I developed it for that purpose.
But it can be used as a lamp as well… Compared to other oils in the Imperial Capital, how was the quality?”
Instead of evaluating the oil, he chose his words as carefully as possible so as not to hurt the already crestfallen saintess any further.
“I only learned today that this is supposed to be a specialty product of Durgtah.”
“What? What do you mean…?”
Not only Hashana’s but Rsanda’s face went rigid.
Kamran, who had remained silent while his master wrestled with how to deliver the blow—’You’ve been getting swindled’—in the least shocking way possible, finally stepped in.
“In the Imperial Capital, this exact product, in this exact form, is sold as a very special perfumed oil that can only be purchased at the temple of Disorde.
They add a very small amount of mint leaves and dried tangerine peel, and the average price is one gold coin per bottle.”
“Why is our specialty product being sold as Disorde’s?
No, more importantly, one gold coin is a month’s worth of food for a temple household.”
“The priests of Disorde use at least two bottles for a single rite.
If more lubrication is needed or the rite goes on for a long time, the bottles pile up.
They even have a subtle competition among themselves over how many empty bottles they can stack by the doors of their rooms.”
Only then did Hashana realize that the “rites” Kamran was talking about and the “dances” the dancers had mentioned were actually sexual intercourse, and she furrowed her brow.
Iskandel finished stripping the seal off the bottle he had been tossing and catching and sniffed the contents.