In Zelda’s eyes shone the resolute light of one who has steeled herself to face death.
Whether she abandoned the guild on the streets or within Leontheim, it made no difference to her.
If she was to relinquish it, handing it over to Iris was the proper course.
“Your Grace, you are wise. Had we followed your counsel earlier, Auro would have risen greatly.”
Yes, just like the others.
Most guilds that passed through Iris’s hands flourished immensely.
Zelda never envied that success—except for one: she wished Iris would always remain by her side.
Had Iris not been the noble scion of the esteemed Valentine clan, Zelda would have done everything to recruit her.
“All I have is my family. Money was merely an accessory to support the Auro tribe.”
Once more, Zelda bowed her head with desperate sincerity.
“I was planning to disband the guild after reclaiming the Clavi.”
A plea from the Auro guildmaster who never wavered or bent her will.
“That was the sole reason I worked myself to the brink of death.”
Iris hesitated briefly.
Though she did not claim exceptional insight, she knew the truth.
“And if I fail to give you the answer you seek?”
“You mean... the fate of the delegation?”
Iris had no choice but to test her.
“If they died, but Agen is not the culprit, what becomes of your wayward rage?”
Zelda’s golden eyes dimmed.
She was too shocked to respond, perhaps not expecting Iris to speak so plainly.
“I... I...”
“Even if they are alive, your current search may be in vain. You will lose both money and time.”
Iris did not wish to be harsh, but her words held the power to alter Zelda and the Auro tribe’s fate.
‘If she chooses not to seek the delegation as before...’
She would gain immense wealth.
The delegation’s death could not be undone, even if now uncovered.
Compared to that, Iris’s knowledge was far beyond—a power capable of changing the future.
After a moment’s pause, Zelda’s face showed resigned acceptance.
“It’s sad, but I understand. It is my fault for not anticipating this. Now, all I can do is my best for them.”
And what of money and time?
“What use are they when I have lost my family? Even if I gave my life, those beautiful souls cannot return.”
She had not yet relinquished her family.
Though an unchangeable future awaited, she was ready to accept it with humility.
Watching her quietly, Iris rang the bell beside her. A maid entered.
“Is there a map available?”
“Ah, yes. Shall I bring it?”
“Please.”
The maid swiftly returned with the map.
Before the still bewildered Zelda, Iris spread it open and handed her a pen.
“Trace the delegation’s route.”
“Ah, yes! Of course!”
Hastily, Zelda drew lines on the map while Iris’s hand followed the path.
‘As expected. They passed through that place.’
Among all known roads, this route was the fastest, so it was understandable.
No guild trading with the Desert Kingdom traveled this way during that time, so Zelda had no reason to foresee this incident.
As she investigated the death of the former delegation, Zelda uncovered certain truths.
Iris spoke calmly, her voice steady.
“Zelda, what do you know about the climate at that time?”
“If you mean now, it’s autumn in the South.”
“Right. The breeding grounds of the scorpions.”
“Scorpions…?”
The Makadia Desert rarely had scorpions, as its harsh environment quickly killed most creatures.
But those that did survive possessed extreme venom.
Iris traced the route with her finger.
“This path has many oases, so guilds use it often. But that convenience applies to the scorpions as well. It’s the perfect place for them to lay eggs.”
“Could it be…”
“If they encountered a swarm of scorpions…”
Iris’s fingertip veered off the path and landed on a rocky mountain.
“They might have fled here. If they were lucky.”
It was never confirmed whether the delegation died from venom poisoning. That was pure chance.
“But then, why was there no response from the communication channel?”
“I suspect it was due to a sandstorm.”
The dry air and raging heatwaves weaken communication devices.
The desert’s dust storms—known as ‘Hamsin’—would rage at their worst for weeks.
“Not only the delegation’s signals but also Makadia’s would have been cut off. I understand why you chose this time. The Hamsin is at its weakest now.”
However, this time, an unprecedentedly fierce heatwave blew through.
Even if they managed to get through it, they would likely have encountered the scorpion swarm.
“As for their lives… I’m sorry, but I cannot be certain.”
Iris also drew the fastest route to the rocky mountain—one Zelda had previously discovered.
“So I have no intention of making a deal with this. You would have figured it out without me. I’ve only brought the timeline a bit forward.”
What you’ve given me, then...
Iris smiled clearly, recalling the moment she first met Zelda.
“Think of it as returning the lesson you imparted to me.”
Iris deeply respected Zelda’s dignity, just as Zelda regarded Iris highly.
Unlike Iris, who had withdrawn from her family, Zelda had persevered against the empire’s oppression and proved her worth.
“You’re a remarkable person. So just take this as a friend’s advice.”
Guilds could always be found. Iris did not wish to exploit Zelda’s desperation.
Zelda gripped the map Iris handed her with trembling hands.
Whether the information was accurate or not, it was the only hope she had.
As Iris moved to take back the map, Zelda suddenly embraced her.
“Iris, Lady Iris.”
“I… I…”
“I will never forget Auro’s kindness. Do you understand? I will never forget.”
Her voice trembled near Iris’s ear.
“So just tell me what you want. Do you want my skills? Is that why you can’t speak?”
“Ah, understood. When you stop crying… I will tell you.”
Iris smiled helplessly and gently patted Zelda’s back—like comforting a friend.
Several days passed after Iris sent a letter to Zelda, who had departed to search for the delegation.
‘It’s going to be difficult, as expected.’
Without further word, Iris, having not received any reply, was set to meet with a new merchant sect. Had it not been for the people who arrived at first light with the morning breeze, it might have proceeded as planned.
“My lady, might you step out for a moment?”
“Hanna? What is the matter?”
Rather than answering, Hanna motioned with a pallid, troubled face.
Following Hanna down the stairs with a puzzled tilt of her head, Iris could hardly contain her shock.
“My heavens… What is this? Am I dreaming?”
Not only Iris, but all the servants busily engaged in their tasks were reeling, one after another, at the sight of the incessantly pouring gifts—from basic grains to essential supplies for surviving the winter.
“Did a fairy send us a present? Have I been so virtuous as to merit such gifts?”
“Surely, it is not you but our lady who has earned them.”
“Indeed, if it were my lady, it would be possible…”
At the words of one servant, the others nodded in agreement.
As Iris gazed blankly at the overwhelming bounty, two individuals bowed respectfully before her. They bore the badge of the Aurora Merchant Sect upon their chests.
“Are you the Marchioness Iris Leonteim?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“This is a letter left by Mistress Zeldaia before she departed this morning.”
The letter was sealed with Zeldaia’s personal wax stamp. When the seal was broken, a short missive emerged:
[To my dearest Iris Leonteim,
……what I send you today is a gift from a trusted friend.
Do not feel burdened.
As you know, it causes no harm to Aurora in the least.]
The letter brimmed with affectionate phrases and intimate tones. It even contained the answer to the matter Iris had inquired about.
[If the project indeed moves forward, you must do it with us. I am transferring the rights to the two mages I mentioned.
Please, take good care of it.]
This was not what Iris had truly desired. Never before had she exchanged such intimate correspondence with peers. A smile, impossible to conceal, lit up her face.
I must send my reply without delay.
Clutching the letter tightly, Iris turned—and was startled by someone who had been waiting behind her.
“Marchioness?”
“Good morning, my lady.”
Cedric’s gentle eyes, which had made Iris blush with bashful warmth, now shifted their gaze behind her to the people of the Aurora sect standing there. In an instant, those once tender crimson eyes had turned cold.
The two among them, inheritors of that same chill gaze, hastened forward to stand before Cedric in proper courtesy.
“From Aurora, we have prepared modest gifts. Included with them is our sect master’s letter.”
“This is a gift sent by our sect master, a dear friend to the Marchioness.”
“A dear friend? Is that so?”
“Ah, yes. That is correct.”
At Iris’s affirmative nod, the suspicion once present in Cedric’s eyes dissipated. Though he had pretended nonchalance, even the Aurora servants—who secretly feared Cedric’s ire—bowed their heads and returned to organizing their wares.
Vincent murmured with a look of heartfelt gratitude,
“With gifts like these, even the garments our master ruined can be mended, and the winter provisions will be secured—and then, perhaps…”
“Good heavens! It’s been so long since he was allowed to display his true power!”
Hanna, the head maid, spoke of “him,” referring to the head chef Chris, whose sumptuous feasts from lavish dinners to sweet confections were legendary. Vincent quickly cut off her dreamy words with a firm tone.
Later, with no reply coming, Iris was scheduled to meet with a new merchant sect. Had it not been for those who arrived with the morning wind itself, things might have gone as planned.
“My lady, might you please step outside for a moment?”
“Hanna? What matter brings you here?”
In answer to her puzzled inquiry, Hanna merely gestured with a face drained of color.
Descending alone after Hanna with a tilted head, Iris’s heart pounded in astonishment.
“My word… What is this? Am I dreaming?”
Not only did Iris feel this shock—the servants at work, too, were consecutively overwhelmed by the stream of gifts: from staple crops to winter necessities.
“Has a fairy truly sent us gifts? Have I lived so righteously?”
“Perhaps it is not you, but our lady who deserves such bounty.”
“If it were my lady, then it is indeed within the realm of possibility…”
At one servant’s remark, all nodded in solemn agreement.
While Iris stared, dumbfounded at the cascade of gifts, two individuals bowed respectfully before her. Bearing the badge of the Aurora Merchant Sect upon their chests, they said:
“Are you Marchioness Iris Leonteim?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“This is a letter left by Mistress Zeldaia this very morning before her departure.”
The letter bore Zeldaia’s seal in hot wax. Upon unsealing, a brief note emerged:
[To my dearest Iris Leonteim,
……What I send today is a token from a trusted friend.
Lay not any burden upon yourself.
As you know, it brings no ill to Aurora at all.]
The letter was imbued with affectionate and familiar language, and even included a response to the matter you had inquired about:
[Should the matter move forward, you must act with us. I now transfer to you the rights to the two mages I mentioned.
I count on you.]
Such was not exactly what Iris had longed for. Never before had she exchanged such intimate letters with her peers. A smile, impossible to hide, spread across her face.
I must send my reply without delay.
Clutching the letter to her bosom, Iris turned. Suddenly, she was startled by someone waiting behind her.
“Marchioness?”
“Good morning, my lady.”
Cedric’s gentle gaze, which had once made her blush at his tender regard, shifted beyond her to meet the eyes of the Aurora attendants. In an instant, those red eyes turned cold as frost.
The two who shared that chilling glare quickly approached Cedric, bowing deeply in respect.
“We have prepared a modest gift from Aurora, and enclosed with it is our sect master’s letter.”
“This gift has been sent by our revered master, a trusted friend of the Marchioness.”
“A trusted friend? Is that so?”
“Ah, yes, that is indeed correct.”
At Iris’s nod of affirmation, any lingering suspicion in Cedric’s eyes faded away. Though he feigned nonchalance, the Aurora servants—who secretly trembled at the thought of incurring his displeasure—bowed their heads and hurried back to their tasks.
Vincent murmured, his features softened with gratitude,
“With such gifts, even the ruined garments of our master can be mended, and our winter stores shall be ample… and then, well…”
“Good heavens! It’s been so long since he was allowed to show his true strength!”
Hanna, the head maid, had begun exclaiming about “him,” referring to the head chef, Chris, whose sumptuous feasts, from lavish dinners to decadent desserts, were renowned. Vincent, determined, cut her off with a resolute tone.
At this juncture, Iris did not wish to deal with merchant sects who viewed her as
Iris Valentine
.
She wanted to partner with those who recognized her as
Iris Leonteim
.
Iris was a master of calculation.
She was well aware of the immense value of her own knowledge, and that made her all the more cautious.
“Will there be anyone else?”
The very last party was most likely to appear.
But there was no avoiding it.
Iris simply set about tidying her affairs.
“Perhaps it’s time to carve out a new path if fate has led us here.”
It wasn’t as if she had started trading with numerous sects from the very beginning.
Every venture has a beginning, and this moment was merely the start.
“I’d prefer to work with a sect familiar with the northern regions…”
No sooner had she resolved this than a frantic knock echoed at the door, and a maid entered with due courtesy.
“My lady, Zeldaia of the Aurora Sect has arrived.”
At the mention of the unexpected name, Iris’s eyes widened.
Zeldaia of Aurora.
Before long, a woman, wrapped as if in a massive stone shroud, entered the room.
“Good heavens! Leonteim is so freezing! I nearly turned to ice out there.”
She emerged, a playful smile lighting her face beneath layers of clothing.
With impressive, fiery-orange hair and the warm, sun-kissed complexion of the southern lands, she was a striking figure.
“Zeldaia—long time no see. But what brings you here?”
“Ah, it’s not just any matter! Didn’t Lady Valentine—or rather, the Marchioness—send out a communication first?”
That was true enough, though no response had come...
Actually, I’d have been more surprised if she had replied.
Zeldaia, Aurora’s foremost executor, was the only person thus far who had ever dared to counter Iris’s insight.
We move solely on clear calculations of gain and loss,
they believed.
Unlike other sects, Aurora never played games of subterfuge.
If there was even a hint of potential loss, they simply wouldn’t dare.
That steadfast approach had ensured their unwavering rise in the fluid realm of commerce.
So why approach now?
Iris of Leonteim was at a disadvantage in their profit calculus—she would have been far more valuable as
Iris Valentine
.
Zeldaia, having discarded her cumbersome winter garb, sat comfortably—neither too deferential nor too insolent—a free spirit balancing courtesy and candor.
“Well, I suppose you didn’t expect me to appear. Our last meeting wasn’t exactly amiable.”
Iris shook her head lightly.
“I don’t view it that way; we merely held differing opinions.”
“…I’m glad to hear that. The nobles say I’m excessively rude.”
Zeldaia smiled, fingers intertwined.
“I accepted your previous deals on the basis of profit. So, what is it you require from us?”
“Tell me your hand first, and then I shall speak,” replied Iris coolly.
Furthermore, she added,
“Perhaps what you desire does not exist within Leonteim.”
For there were no unique specialties in this land.
Even those that once existed had been rendered unprofitable by Ludwig’s interference.
In Leonteim, only the oppressed masses, demonic beasts, and beautiful yet useless crystal mountains remained.
No other sect truly values such wares as Aurora does.
At these words, Zeldaia leaned back, exhaling a deep sigh.
Iris did not wish to work with a sect that held such narrow views.
She longed to join hands with those who would recognize her true worth as
Iris Leonteim
—for her knowledge, her insight, and her unyielding determination to safeguard her destiny.
“No, absolutely not! You have no idea how harsh this winter will be. We must conserve as much as possible!”
Still clutching the small box tightly to her chest.
“Do not worry. The guildmaster has firmly instructed that supplies must never be cut off,” said the sturdy deputy of the Aurora Guild.
Hannah smiled softly, saying “Oh my,” while Vincent, with a face on the verge of tears, excused himself to organize the ledgers.
“If there’s anything you want to eat, just say the word!”
Hannah called out from behind Vincent, then turned to look at Iris.
“Lady, is there anything you wish to eat?”
“I’m fine. Whatever Hannah likes, I’ll like as well.”
“How sweet! And what about you, Master?”
At that, Cedric glanced briefly at Iris, watching as her pale lavender hair swayed gently. He then spoke slowly.
“There is something I do not want to eat.”
“Eh? Has the Master been complaining? Haha, what could it be?”
At Hannah’s words, Iris looked up at Cedric.
In her sky-blue eyes, the image of a crimson moon rose.
“Peaches.”
Iris flinched in surprise.
Peaches were a fruit she could not eat.
‘I never told him that.’
Translator's Note:
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