SMMA 63

Episode 63

Ordinarily, the great noble families of the Empire never borrowed money.

More precisely—they never “personally” asked to borrow. It was something unfit for the dignity of a high-born house.

Of course, even nobles faced the need for coin at times.

But when that happened, merchants eager to curry favor—or to secure patronage—came forward on their own.

They would bow deeply, converse politely, praise the estate, flatter the family’s glory, and only then murmur, “A humble servant such as I longs to offer some funds to your house.”

At this, the noble would nod ever so reluctantly, as if permitting a tiresome duty.

Then the household’s chief steward would discuss the fine details in private.

Thus, most great nobles never learned the act of borrowing directly in their lifetimes.

Much less their children barely of age.

So when Arian, the beastman branch chief of Kaako Merchants, saw a boy who was unmistakably noble-born walk in and say, “Please lend me some money,”—he almost fainted.

—Is he truly of House Wadanaz?!

Philone village was disproportionately prosperous compared to its size.

The streets bustled with crowds, shops of every variety thrived where rural hamlets had none.

Inns lined the avenues side by side, taverns overflowed with people.

And not Philone alone—every town near the Academy pulsed with life.

For one reason: the Academy itself.

The land brimmed with mana. Dungeons, monsters, rare reagents proliferated.

And the Academy’s scholars required endless materials, reagents, and test goods.

But who would bring such things? Certainly not frail magi, who wilted when rising from their chairs.

So adventurers were hired.

With generous pay, they swarmed. The scholars saw reagents delivered, experiments boomed, more contracts were offered.

The Treasury railed and cursed, invoking “By Osu Gonadalthes!”, but aside from them, all prospered.

A circle of wealth and risk churned endlessly around the Academy.

And fortune for Ihan too—anything could be bought here, if only he had coin.

“Therefore, please—lend me money.”

“W-wait! Lord of Wadanaz, young master, please—just a moment—”

“Not possible?”

“No, no! Not that! I—of course I will lend! Surely!”

The goat beastman flailed nervously.

If it was truly Wadanaz blood before him, better to lend. Even if not repaid, to have ties with House Wadanaz was priceless.

Arian steeled himself. Even if I must dip into my own purse…

Still, as a merchant, he trembled inside.

How vast an amount would this boy dare name?

“Please, how much do you require?”

Ihan hesitated. The pause made Arian sweat.

How staggering will it be…?!

“…Would twenty silver coins suffice?”

“…Pardon?”

“If not, then perhaps fifteen silver?”

“……”

Arian gaped.

Then froze again—realizing the boy still wore a school uniform he recognized.

An Academy student?!

A first-year. Knowing their brutal rules, he reeled.

How did he even escape?

Oh… Wadanaz. Of course.

He sighed in acceptance.

After all—who but a scion of Wadanaz could leave alive after their first year?

Unthinkable he’d ask for a loan personally… Yet, because he is Wadanaz, it makes sense.

“Would twelve silver be acceptable?”

“Ah—no need to reduce further.”

Quickly reassured, Arian tried to restore comfort.

He brought tea and sweets, even offered coin with no collateral. But Ihan eyed him warily.

“No… no deceitful intent, I swear.”

“Then I’ll just take my leave—”

“No! My lord, I only wished to show goodwill. Surely as a first-year, you carry no purse.”

Indeed, Arian lamented. Trainee students had no coin. His intent was noble: “I trust you. Silver matters not.”

This should have been the stirring moment where Ihan replied, “Sir Arian, I’ll never forget this trust once I rise to glory.”

Instead…

“Ah. True—I have no money. But I do have something which could be worth money.”

“What?”

Arian blinked. What prize could a boy freshly escaped carry?

His staff…?

A mistake common among students—they thought their Academy-issued staves valuable. In fact, they had little worth.

“I hold the ledgers of debts owed me by other noble-born students.”

“……”

Arian’s jaw hit the desk.

What lunacy is this?!

“I had meant to redeem them at the noble manors, but—your Headmaster removed them from town.”

“…Indeed. If so—truly worth gold.”

For they were as good as coin. Collateral of the highest sort.

And beyond coin—prestige. Present such ledgers to their Houses, and gratitude flowed. Nobles rewarded honor with gifts and favors.

But…

As tempting as it was, Arian forced himself to refuse.

“That suffices. I’ll lend, certainly.”

“Then—I leave the ledgers here—”

“No! You keep them.”

“……”

Ihan stared, baffled. Did this merchant begin work only today? Collateral was customarily kept by lenders, not borrowers.

But Arian flushed. It was a show of trust…!

For him, touching Wadanaz debt was dangerous. For if he claimed those ledgers, suspicion might fall that he tricked or robbed the young heir.

He would rather lose coin than risk such scandal.

Still, to Ihan’s gaze, that restraint made him look like a fool.

“Think, my lord. What does it matter? You are Wadanaz. Whether or not I hold collateral changes nothing.”

“Hm. Perhaps. Still—I believe collateral should rest with you…”

“…May I at least guide you to the markets? Surely you need many things now.”

Ihan nodded. “That would be much appreciated. But… not to stores tied to your guild?”

“…Of course not!”

Arian trembled. Now he wasn’t sure—was this boy of the House Wadanaz… or from the Wadanaz Trading Guild itself?

No trace of naivety. No aristocratic gullibility.

“?”

As he followed, he glanced back—the sweets he had set earlier for the boy were gone.

All eaten? But… I never saw him eat.

His eyes fell upon Ihan’s bulging cloak pocket.

…No. Surely not…

“This—cream pastry. Made by the village’s finest. Nobles delight in them.”

“No. Recommend only compact, lasting foods.”

“……”
“……”

Ihan assessed supplies like a quartermaster. No fragile, bulky, or perishable goods tempted him.

“Perhaps these canned fruits—popular design—”
“Too little packed in! Waste of volume!”

Already sweeping them aside. Arian, watching, wondered if this boy belonged behind a merchant’s counter. Should I hire him once he graduates…?

Methodically, Ihan balanced volume and weight, selected boxes, ensured efficient packing.

“Lord Wadanaz—wagons are not allowed. The Headmaster will punish us all if you bring one.”

“I know. I’m carrying it myself.”

“…??!?!”

Not only Arian—his staff now watched wide-eyed.

Shouldn’t we stop him? their eyes pleaded.

But Arian hushed them.

“He has a plan. He must.”

For by now… the truth was clear.

This boy moved with the instincts of a master trader.

“Come. Next—to the tailors. We’ll commission suits.”

“?”

Ihan looked blank.

“Those rags—clothes from the Academy—must be uncomfortable.”

“Hardly uncomfortable at all.”

“!?”

“But clothing is required,” he added. “Yet… not suits. Take me to the cloth merchants.”

“You mean—you intend to sew garments yourself?”

“That is correct.”

“……”

Inside, Ihan picked only the sturdiest bolts.

“Why is this fabric cheaper? It’s the same quality.”

“Pattern is unfashionable.”

“Then give me the outdated lot. Between this and this— which resists water better?”

Again, Ihan’s sharp eye carved value instantly.

Even a seasoned clothier, even branch manager Arian himself, stood humbled.

Here, the one commanding the market floor was not them.

It was the young Wadanaz heir.