Chapter 13: Selling Horses

“Welcome. Are you here to buy or sell?”

In front of several large green tents, a small tent stood like a passageway with both ends open.

Inside were an armed soldier and a rather sly-looking, stocky man.

“I’m here to sell these horses and goods.”

“I see.”

The man smiled while quickly stepping out to inspect the horses.

“How many are you thinking of selling?”

“All of them except this one.”

A flicker of suspicion crossed the man’s eyes for a moment, but he soon moved on to examine the horses.

After carefully checking their hooves and mouths, he turned his attention to the saddles and the packs attached.

“Oh ho.”

The man, appearing intrigued, fiddled with one of the saddles and opened a pack.

“These are quite fine goods. No insignias or markings either. You’ve gathered your merchandise well.”

There was a hint of implication in his tone.

He probably thought I was a thief or something along those lines.

Not that I could blame him—how many people these days would recognize me?

Even the soldiers who had fought beside me for two days straight to block the commanding legions during the last great war didn’t recognize me later when they met me without Lowell.

…How could I complain?

After all, a firefly next to the sun is never noticed.

“Well, I suppose so.”

I didn’t bother to argue.

I didn’t care what he thought of me, as long as he paid the proper price.

And that, precisely, was my mistake.

“But as you may know, the Amusvian Merchants’ Guild always cross-checks goods of ‘uncertain origin’ like these with records from the Central Administration Office before purchasing. If there’s a mishap, the guild’s honor could be tarnished, and things could get serious.”

It was news to me, but I could understand.

With the crowds that gathered here, theft or loss must be common.

If a major guild started buying stolen goods indiscriminately, not only would they face disgrace, but depending on the situation, there could be serious consequences.

“…Would that be alright with you?”

The man asked cautiously, his tone and eyes laced with the polite warning that if it was risky, I should turn back.

“That’s fine. Will it take long?”

“It usually takes about three extra hours in the afternoon, in case additional claims come in after checking the records.”

I was almost impressed.

I hadn’t expected a profit-driven guild to take theft prevention this seriously.

“Well then, please follow me.”

“Do I need to come with you?”

“If there’s a match in the records, you’ll have to be present for identification. Don’t worry—once the initial check is done, you’re free to do as you like while waiting.”

I had no intention of leaving immediately after coming all this way anyway.

A few hours of waiting wasn’t a big deal.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

It didn’t take long for me to realize that this decision was a critical mistake.

“Th-this is the place?”

I’d had a bad feeling halfway through—and sure enough, the man had led me right to the pink tents I had so desperately wanted to avoid.

“Yes. This year, the Cruze Guild is handling the process.”

Cruze Guild.

A relatively minor player in land trade, but a dominant force in maritime commerce.

This massive guild, with over twenty ships in its fleet, was also known as the Cruze Armada.

And their strength wasn’t just in name—they had even driven out the infamous pirate “Red One-Legged Ron” from the Parerin Archipelago.

“I-I see.”

But none of that mattered to me.

All I wanted now was to turn around and leave.

“…Where’s the records office?”

I forced myself to hold steady, planting my feet firmly.

I couldn’t afford to turn back now like some fool.

Besides, there was no guarantee that what I feared would actually happen here.

“The records office is this way.”

The larger pink tents were apparently for storing goods—armed guards stood watch there.

Likely they contained expensive luxuries or works of art.

But the most valuable items wouldn’t be in there.

Traders never leave their most important goods out of reach.

On the other hand, the smaller tents nearby seemed to serve as accommodations or offices for employees and merchants, with people frequently coming and going.

I found myself holding my breath and rising on my toes every time a flap opened, which felt unexpectedly sorrowful.

“Here we are.”

I followed the man into a relatively small tent where four or five people were sitting at desks, each surrounded by stacks of ledgers.

“Time to work.”

The man said, motioning behind him.

The clerks rose mechanically from their seats, gave a brief glance over the horses and goods I’d brought, and then sat down again, flipping through their books with frenzied speed.

“This shouldn’t take long. If anything matches, the claimant will be summoned for a face-to-face check.”

There would probably be a match.

These weren’t just goods—they were saddled horses.

Maybe not all ten at once, but it wasn’t uncommon to lose or have one stolen.

Sure enough, three of the clerks raised their hands.

Despite their swift action, their voices were devoid of emotion.

“There are three matches.”

“One match here.”

“I have two matches.”

“Alright, then contact the claimants.”

Following the instructions, the clerks called someone from outside, copied down the records, and handed them over to a runner, who took off somewhere.

They had probably pre-arranged basic contact with the claimants, but I doubted they’d come back quickly.

One thing I could be sure of—it wouldn’t be “just a moment.”

“Do you have a chair?”

I asked, striving to sound calm.

The man brought me a chair, and I forced my legs—restless and eager to pace—to sit down.

From then on, all I could do was wait, gambling with my strange luck in this place that hovered just shy of becoming one of my nightmares.

If I had to be honest, I was generally lucky.

Not only had I survived the last great war, but I was also known as the hero’s closest friend.

Still, no matter how much I reassured myself with thoughts like that, each passing second filled me with dread.

After quite a long time, people began arriving, disappointed, and left again, one after another.

Just as I was beginning to re-evaluate my luck with a bit of gratitude, the final claimant arrived.

“Senpinel!”

A short-haired, rugged-faced man burst into the tent.

Dressed in a black shirt that showed off his bulging upper body and arm muscles, he looked like someone who’d pick a fight at a tavern just for making eye contact.

As soon as he entered, he shouted and rushed toward the horses.

“Senpinel! Jiazo! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you two!”

The burly man was desperately trying to pull the reins of the clearly frightened—no, terrified—horses while pretending to be familiar with them.

Damn it, of all people, the last one had to be this type.

Sure enough, when I turned my head, even the one who guided me here had a scowl on his face.

When I first heard about this lost-and-found report system, I had vaguely imagined people like him might show up.

But to run into someone like that at the very end…

“Yes, that’s right! These are the ones I lost!”

He falsely reported missing property and now claimed ownership.

If successful, he’d gain everything without lifting a finger.

If he failed, he could just say it was a misunderstanding.

Not a bad scam, honestly.

But in the end, it’s a one-off with small returns—petty theft at best.

“Are you certain these are your lost horses?”

“Yes! Look at this scar! They’re definitely Jiazo and Senpinel! I lost them just yesterday on my way here!”

If he knew the previous owners of these horses had been eaten by Thanathors Apollydon, he wouldn’t dare to make such claims.

“Let’s not play games. These horses were transferred to me by the Alto Knights.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly voluntary.

“Transferred? How does one get a herd of horses transferred like that? You must have stolen them!”

Despite the accusation, there wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation or tension in the man’s eyes.

In fact, when he looked at my face, he even seemed relieved.

…Yeah, I get it.

My appearance is one thing, but given the clothes I’m wearing, a little caution would be normal, wouldn’t it?

“Now, now, both of you calm down.”

The upper-tier merchants tried to mediate, but they looked just as troubled.

They had probably dealt with people like him more than a few times.

Of course, they would’ve seen through such pathetic tricks long ago—but that didn’t mean they could just ignore him outright.

If my identity was firmly established, maybe.

But from their perspective, it wasn’t.

The merchant glanced through the records, then turned to the burly man and cautiously opened his mouth with a faint smile.

“Mr. Krugle… Yes, Mr. Krugle. According to your report, you didn’t provide any details about the breed, age, or size of the horses—just described them as a white horse and a light red one. So how can you be sure these are yours?”

“Because I’ve raised them all this time! Senpinel and… and Jienzo are mine!”

“Just now you said Jiazo.”

He couldn’t even keep the names straight after just a few seconds.

If you’re going to run a scam, at least remember the names.

Did he just make them up on the spot?

“Jiazo! Right, Jiazo!”

Too late now.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t see any grounds to confirm these horses are your property.”

“Wait a minute! But you’re saying this person brought all these horses here by himself? And that you believe his story about getting them from the knights?”

“All the other claimants have already come and gone. There’s no room for doubt about ownership.”

He might not have been a skilled con artist, but if he had any brain, he’d know this was the time to back off.

But instead…

“That’s nonsense! I’m telling you these are mine! Who are you to say otherwise?! Bring me your superior!”

He raised his voice and began causing a scene.

I couldn’t speak.

Let me be clear—I swear on the heavens that I’ve never stolen anything or conned anyone for financial gain in my life.

But even I could see he was doing it all wrong.

The method I understood worked like this: You don’t snatch the item in front of its real owner.

You move in quickly and quietly when a lost item comes in, before the owner arrives.

And if it seems difficult, you bail immediately—there will always be more opportunities.

That way, you can try again next time.

The worst thing you can do is start a public argument in front of the owner.

And if you must fight over it, you’d better be prepared to win—have airtight logic, solid details.

Not this… mess.

At that point, he’d have been better off robbing someone or straight-up stealing the horses.

The fact that he didn’t even understand that basic principle meant he had zero understanding of this scam—maybe not even the idea for it in the first place.

The merchant staff also looked at him with eyes full of disbelief and pity.

Honestly, I wanted to drag him into a dark alley and teach him a lesson (well, technically it’d be my summoned beast doing it, not me).

But I didn’t need to.

Large trading companies like this don’t only employ merchants.

The staff exchanged gestures, and soon someone ran off.

Probably to bring in the guards—or someone specialized in handling situations like this.

Not long after, footsteps approached from the distance.

See?

Just like I said.

The tent flap lifted, and the person who had run off returned, followed by…

“Oh my! Anak?”