Chapter 538: The Marketplace
“It’s just a work-related acquaintance. I thought it appropriate to introduce someone who could gather information and handle the preparations… I see, the employment relationship is still ongoing…”
The butler’s choice of words was starting to feel ominous. Why was the butler who made the introduction so surprised?
But then again, Changelings tend to lose interest in things easily, so maybe it’s rare for them to stick around for long? They seem incredibly lively when it comes to the competition for sweets and fortifying the island’s defenses, though.
“Here we have tomatoes drizzled with a special oil. This oil is made from olives harvested on a full moon day from trees over fifty years old.”
Next up was a Caprese salad. Tomatoes, basil, and a pale cheese, all drizzled with the light green olive oil the waiter mentioned.
Harvesting on a full moon day is special? It does seem like there are more Spirits around than usual. Plus, rare Spirits sometimes appear on full moon and new moon days.
And this dish? It looks like they’ve taken some of the examples I provided to promote tomatoes and put their own spin on it.
If tomatoes become more common, dishes prioritizing flavor over rarity might increase. —I’m one step closer to my ambition!
“The scenery here is lovely. But for important discussions, we need to be discreet,” Haulon said, gazing pensively at the shop’s interior through the glass instead of the sea.
“This place is designed so that conversations in normal tones won’t be overheard by those inside, and there’s a mechanism to prevent Spirits from catching our words, making it a convenient spot for negotiations,” Soleil added, looking a bit flustered.
“It’s not a place suited for shouting or collapsing in frustration,” the butler remarked.
“Are you wanting to shout?” Like, yelling ‘You idiot!’ towards the sea?
When I asked, all three nodded in unison.
What’s going on? While I’m venting my frustrations about the shrimp dish, things suddenly feel all youthful and dramatic? Is it some kind of youthful irritation? Two out of three of them are elderly, though.
“Can’t you make it so that Haulon can shout without being heard?” I wondered if there was some reason I shouldn’t do it myself.
“I can do that. But it would leave traces. This place may seem hidden, but it’s directly under the Merchant Guild, you know? I don’t want to raise any unnecessary suspicions,” Haulon shrugged.
“In Naruadeid, both the Merchant and Shipping Guilds hold significant power,” the butler added.
Ah, if I meddle with the Merchant Guild’s mechanisms, they’d definitely investigate. Setting the butler aside, Soleil, who’s currently doing business in Naruadeid, and Haulon, who will likely be involved with the country in the future.
Got it, it’s safer not to interfere. But what’s the Merchant Guild hiding? Are they providing a place where business rivals can’t eavesdrop? Or are they gathering information themselves? The impression changes significantly depending on which it is. Maybe it’s both?
“There are plenty of beaches where you can shout,” I thought it’d be nice to yell out on an empty shore.
“Yes, indeed. There seems to be no end to the things I want to shout about,” Haulon said.
“I don’t want to shout…” Soleil replied, her tone suggesting a deeper understanding with Haulon in that brief moment. The butler nodded knowingly at the two.
What’s going on? Are they sisters or something?
Dessert arrived, interrupting my curiosity. A cookie shaped like a giant circle, larger than my face. Wait, isn’t this just a larger version of the ones you often see in Naruadeid? The ingredients are eggs, flour, and sugar—it’s a biscuit, but it looks more like a cookie.
“This is a Bussaira made with Mail Wheat, provided by Soleil-sama. It’s said that sharing Bussaira with someone ensures successful business dealings, so please enjoy it together,” the waiter explained.
“After we finish dessert, let’s move to the ship. Captain Goat’s ship, which arrived yesterday, is docked nearby. You’ll get to see the actual Mail Wheat,” Soleil said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Surely this deal will go well. Also, I’d like to maintain our relationship beyond just business—there’s something about you that feels oddly familiar,” she added.
If another man said that, Kiel would probably be shocked, but when Haulon says it, it makes me think they really are sisters.
“When it’s large, it feels different than when it’s small,” Haulon remarked, taking a bite of the Bussaira. The outer layer was crispy and crumbly, and perhaps because of its size, the inside was still moist and dense. It was definitely different from the smaller ones you can buy around here.
“In the past, families would share this size on the day when spring days and nights were equal. Over time, the smaller, more convenient ones took over, but this size remains as a tradition in commerce,” Haulon explained, showcasing her knowledge.
“I like this one better. It’s hard to cut, though,” I said, as I sliced into it. At first, it crunched, but then it suddenly crumbled apart. But that crumbly texture is nice too.