Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.
Thank you.
Everyone from Otaku Translation
Chapter 44: The Underground Trade of Braggs Part 2
The interior of Maria Market’s auction hall was not particularly spacious, resembling a dimly lit miniature theater. Rows of chairs ascended in tiers around the central "stage," reserved for ordinary guests. Along the walls of the "theater," three tiers of elaborately decorated private boxes lined the space, adorned with silk and satin. Each box contained a brass spyglass mounted on a mahogany stand, allowing nobles to scrutinize the items displayed at the center of the stage.
Lorne had managed to secure a private box for Brandon, but the young man declined. His purpose here wasn’t to draw attention; participation was secondary. He simply wanted to see if there were any unexpected opportunities worth pursuing.
After collecting their numbers at the entrance, the group took their assigned seats. Though Brandon appeared relaxed on the surface, beneath his knightly attire, he kept a repeating crossbow strapped to his side. The quiver, loaded with Tama-crafted cursed bolts, was ready for any sudden trouble.
Vonder’s crossbow was a marvel of intricate engineering. Its sighting mechanism resembled an upright box, difficult for novices to master. However, Brandon’s "Mercenary" class granted him the "Weapon Proficiency" skill, which provided him with the knowledge to wield this delicate weapon like a seasoned veteran. He’d even rigged a makeshift aiming device onto his ring to calibrate shots more effectively.
Not long after they sat down, before the trade fair began, Lorne—disguised in a long cloak—slipped into a seat beside them. After glancing cautiously around, he whispered, “Brandon, the poisoned daggers and potions have been sold. The Brotherhood purchased the daggers—you needn’t worry; they paid handsomely. Two thousand five hundred torr per dagger, no questions asked.”
Not every transaction at the underground trade fair occurred on the auction floor. Most deals were privately negotiated through intermediaries like Lorne—sometimes involving multiple middlemen for added security and discretion. All it cost was a modest fee for their services and silence.
In Braggs’ gray market, no one gossiped more freely—or kept quieter—than these intermediaries. Everything depended on context.
“What about the potions?” Brandon feigned interest in the staff setting up below while casually asking unrelated questions. He understood the rules of the underground trade: pseudo-magical items like poisoned daggers and mana potions rarely made it onto the official auction block.
“The potions were slightly more complicated,” Lorne replied, his small eyes darting to gauge Brandon’s reaction. “The representative from the Tower of Stars and Moons kept pressing about the creator of these potions. It seems the method for crafting mana potions hasn’t circulated widely for some time. They said, ‘The Wizard’s Guild welcomes skilled alchemists.’”
Lorne hoped to see Brandon’s response. If the young man found this information useful, perhaps he’d offer a word of praise—each bit of approval bolstered Lorne’s sense of security within the group. Yet, if Brandon seemed troubled by the news, Lorne couldn’t help but feel a flicker of vindictive satisfaction. Though they were on the same boat, his feelings toward Brandon were mixed with both fear and resentment.
But Lorne harbored thoughts similar to Antietta’s. While he hoped to rise alongside Brandon, part of him secretly wished to see the young man stumble.
Brandon merely shook his head, subtly dismissing the matter. “My friend has no interest in that. Just tell me how the transactions went, Lorne.”
It seemed his assumptions were correct—mana potions were far rarer in this world than in Amber Sword.
“Each potion sold for a thousand torr, totaling thirty thousand torr,” Lorne said, careful not to reveal his disappointment.
Brandon nodded. The price of the daggers exceeded his expectations by twenty-five percent, and the mana potions fetched far more than he’d imagined. Moon Lilies, Dark Mage, and Glow Moss were common magical materials, yet at this rate, the profit margin on each potion surpassed two hundred percent.
This was outright exploitation.
He immediately classified mana potions as a long-term cash cow. Glancing back at Roma, Brandon mused that branding her products could pave the way for establishing a merchant guild—not an impossible feat for little Roma.
Roma, naturally, noticed Brandon’s glance. Smiling brightly, she raised her eyebrows and clasped her hands together. “Half of a hundred thousand already, Brandon! Just as you said—I knew you could do it!”
“The best is yet to come, Roma,” Chael chimed in, taking a seat behind Brandon.
“No, Chael, you misunderstand,” Brandon interjected coolly, his gaze fixed on the stage below. “Our Roma is merely reminding me that a hundred thousand torr is her principal.”
Roma, caught red-handed, showed no shame. Instead, she giggled mischievously, clearly pleased with herself.
Antietta, seated beside Chael, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the exchange. Born into a noble family, she’d handled sums of tens of thousands of torr before. But to discuss such amounts so casually—as though they were insignificant—was unheard of. Her family had once been prosperous, but only modestly so.
This scene confirmed her suspicions: despite venturing out alone, this young knight-lord must come from considerable wealth.
Yet, the young lady was mistaken. Roma simply lacked the concept of value, while Brandon’s nonchalance stemmed from handling millions in-game. Still, claiming he had a grand background would be inaccurate.
The lights in the "amphitheater" suddenly dimmed. The group turned their attention to the staff extinguishing half the torches lining the walls—it seemed the trade fair was about to begin. Lorne leaned in, lowering his voice. “If we were in a private box, the auction list would have been delivered to the nobles by now. Brandon, is there anything specific you’re looking for?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Brandon watched as the light brightened on the central stage. “By the way, did they give you any trouble afterward?”
Lorne shook his head. “As you predicted, everyone knows about your and Barthom’s escort to Gray Rat Street that day. When Teste’s men came questioning me, I claimed not to know you—”
“Sounds like you weren’t too happy about it?” Barthom teased.
“Dare not,” Lorne replied. Having clarified Barthom’s standing, he no longer groveled as much. Changing the subject, he gestured toward the stage. “Speaking of which, Brandon, what’s your reserve price for that sword? To me, it’s a perfect work of art.”
Brandon knew he referred to the brass-tier magical weapon forged from the dwarven blade. After a moment’s thought, he estimated, “At least a hundred to a hundred fifty thousand torr.”
No sooner had he spoken than Antietta gasped softly behind him. Everyone turned to see the noble girl blushing, waving her hands dismissively. “S-sorry, it’s nothing.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, steadying her racing heart. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence. A hundred fifty thousand torr equaled a hundred fifty Eruin gold coins—a fortune rivaling the lifetime savings of lesser nobles. As Brandon’s advisor, Antietta understood their financial situation when they arrived—empty-handed. Yet, in moments, they’d acquired a sum worthy of envy.
Two hundred thousand torr could purchase a knight’s fief in a remote countryside—a possibility not lost on Antietta.
Born into nobility and possessing a keen mind, Antietta believed capital should be reinvested to generate true wealth. Though she’d squandered her family’s fortune on designs, a clever person didn’t make the same mistake twice.
Her mind raced, calculating what two hundred thousand torr could achieve. With such funds, whether in commerce or upward mobility, the path seemed wide open. She estimated that within a year, she could increase the sum by thirty percent.
But then she frowned. Though she’d volunteered as Brandon’s advisor, she doubted he’d grant her free rein over such a substantial amount.
Brandon noticed the shifting emotions on his new subordinate’s face and asked, “Lady Antietta?”
“Hmm?” Antietta blinked, looking up.
“You’re considering our funds?” Brandon probed.
Antietta flushed but quickly composed herself. Nodding earnestly, she replied, “Yes, as your advisor, I believe it’s my duty to consider such matters—”
She glanced uncertainly at Roma, who, as Brandon’s nominal fiancée, arguably had greater authority in this area. But Roma simply smiled sweetly, as always.
Brandon listened thoughtfully, then looked around at the others. “If you have ideas, I’ll split this sum in two—one portion for you, Antietta, and one for Roma. You can use the funds as you see fit, but—”
Before he finished, Antietta’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Sir Knight, are you serious?”
Brandon nodded matter-of-factly. It was a habit from his days leading Amber Sword—trust implicitly or test abilities through autonomy.
The girl inhaled deeply, nodding firmly. “I will put this money to good use, Sir Knight. I already have a plan to multiply it in the short term…”
Brandon interrupted, “No, I’m giving you this money to understand something. I’ve tasked little Roma with earning for me, but Lady Antietta, I want you to spend it wisely—”
“To spend it?” Antietta was taken aback.
At that moment, the trade fair’s bell rang out. Turning back, Brandon replied, “You’ll soon understand. And if Lady Antietta wishes, perhaps you could assist our Roma. She has quite the ambitious plan ahead.”
Brandon’s thoughts turned to acquiring territory. If Roma established a merchant guild, it wouldn’t suit being overtly tied to a fief. Thus, he needed a steward. With Antietta volunteering, he was content to let her take charge.
“A big plan?” Antietta puzzled, struggling to imagine what energetic Roma might devise. Truthfully, she doubted entrusting financial responsibilities to such a young lady, but interrupting felt awkward.
However, she quickly set aside her doubts, recalling something.
Her eyes lit up as she connected Roma’s recent inquiries about Braggs’ annual festivals. Almost instantly, she pieced together the broader picture.
Leaning over, she whispered to Chael, “Where was Madara’s army stationed before you all entered the city?”
“They’ve been stalled in Dragos for nearly half a month,” Chael replied offhandedly. Pausing, he added, “You’ve figured it out, Lady Antietta?”
The apprentice mage couldn’t help but admire how Antietta deduced the entire situation from a single clue. Truly, his lord’s advisor was no ordinary person.
“If Lady Roma’s plan succeeds, the profit margin will exceed eighty percent…” Antietta murmured, glancing at Roma, who was chatting animatedly with Brandon. She felt as though she were seeing another side of the girl.
“Previously, Lady Roma calculated a full doubling,” Chael noted.
“That’s because channel costs weren’t factored in…” Antietta bit her lip, feeling her confidence waver. After a moment, she declared earnestly, “But with effort—and Lorne’s assistance—even a hundred percent isn’t impossible…”
Unaware of his subordinates’ whispered exchange, Brandon focused on the main event: the auction. To his surprise, the first item piqued his interest.
A flat parchment lay illuminated under the spotlight, inscribed in the ancient elemental languages of the four races. Its edges curled slightly inward due to the magical energies of wind, earth, fire, and water pulling its margins toward the center.
This scroll existed to open the path of Elementalistss for those lacking innate talent. Many nobles used such artifacts to usher their heirs into the magical world.
Undoubtedly, it was priceless.
But to Brandon, it was worth far more.
To him, it had only one name:
‘Elemental Pool Activation Scroll.’
If you would like to support this translation, you may choose any one of the options below.
How to find a list of chapters
Please find the chapter label next to your favorite translator's name, and click the label.
