Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 006. The Western City (2)

The City Lord.

Literally, the head of the city.

To Anagin—who was seeing a city for the first time—it was an unfamiliar concept. But once he thought of it as something similar to a village chief, it started to make a little more sense.

The scale of management was different, of course, but the job seemed about the same—

or so he thought.

Apparently, not quite.

“Welcome. I’m Liothes, the City Lord of this place. My friends call me Lio.”

“...Anagin. Just call me Anagin. But, uh, you’re really the City Lord?”

“Yes, is that strange?”

“A little. Just not what I imagined.”

Anagin, who had come under the merchant’s guidance out of curiosity, spoke honestly. The City Lord was far younger than he expected.

“I thought the head of a city would be older.”

“Haha, is that so?”

Lio smiled as he stood before him.

He had a smooth, unlined face—so young he almost looked boyish.

But his manner wasn’t childish.

Different in kind, perhaps, but he carried the same air as a village chief—that quiet authority of someone responsible for a group of people.

“Thank you for the compliment. But I feel unworthy of it. After all, you’re the hero who slew a monster at such a young age. I’m the one who should be honored.”

“Wasn’t really meant as a compliment.”

Anagin’s flat reply doused Lio’s attempt at friendly small talk, but the City Lord didn’t lose composure.

He merely studied Anagin carefully—his gaze deliberate but polite, careful not to offend.

It wasn’t unpleasant, but still, Anagin could almost hear the sound of gears turning inside the man’s head.

“You’re not wrong, though. I’m only in this position because I was lucky to have the right father.”

The newborn city of Dysis had been founded by Lio’s late father. Lio had simply inherited the seat after his father’s death.

“My father once managed a rather large trading company back in Hellas. Then, seeking new opportunities, he came to Apix and built this city.”

“Ah. Impressive.”

“Mostly luck, I’d say. Thanks to the influx of settlers, the city grew steadily. Though he overworked himself and passed away before long, so now I’ve taken over.”

“I see.”

“And sometimes, I almost resent him for it. He started all this, and I’m the one stuck cleaning up the mess.”

“How tragic... But why are you telling me this?”

Anagin’s disinterested tone made it clear he didn’t see the point. So what? What's the point?

Lio shook his head.

“Haha, my apologies. I’ve kept you listening to pointless stories. Please, have a seat.”

He gestured to a chair at the table. Anagin sat, and moments later a servant brought a cup of wine and set it before him.

Anagin sniffed the drink cautiously. The aroma wasn’t bad at all.

“This is one of the city’s prides. Made here in Apix, but I dare say it rivals the wine of Hellas.”

With that much confidence, Anagin took a sip. It was good—better than anything brewed in his home village.

“It’s good.”

“Right?”

“So... you called me here just to let me taste your wine?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I wanted to thank you for slaying the serpent that plagued our city... Though you probably wouldn’t believe that’s the only reason.”

Anagin nodded.

He might’ve accepted the gratitude easily enough—if he hadn’t heard the sound of more mental gears whirring in the City Lord’s head.

“Haa... Fine. To be honest, I asked you here for a more... productive conversation. Are you planning to leave the city soon, or will you be staying a while?”

“And why do you ask?”

“If you’re leaving soon, I can have the payment for the serpent’s body prepared quickly. But if you’ll be staying, I’d rather take some time to settle it properly.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The amount differs slightly. It’s valuable material, and I’d prefer to handle its sale here—but that won’t be easy right now.”

Lio explained that the city’s regular trade exchange was coming up, limiting how much coin or goods could be released at the moment.

“So, for now, it would be difficult to pay you the full price. However, if you stay until after the trade, I can ensure you’re properly compensated.”

“That’s it?”

“Hmm... Are you implying I have another reason for inviting you?”

“Pretty sure you do. Doesn’t sound like you went through all this trouble just for that. You’ve been grinding your gears—same sound as your underlying out there.”

Anagin tapped his temple with a finger, staring at Lio.

“So, I’d appreciate it if you got to the point. I don’t like wasting time.”

An insolent tone for a stranger addressing a City Lord.

But Lio didn’t take offense—in fact, he smiled.

Clasping his hands together, he rested his elbows on the desk.

“I like it. A straightforward conversation, for once. Then I’ll be direct as well. Tell me, are you a practitioner?”

“And if I said yes?”

“Then I have a proposal for you.”

* * *

After finishing the conversation.

When Anagin left, a merchant entered.

He was the same merchant who had guided Anagin here—an official merchant who handled trade among the nearby villages.

Carefully closing the door, he approached Lio.

“City Lord, did the talk go well?”

“Yes, he’s quite an interesting person.”

“Well, that’s true. Though rather rude.”

“He may be rude in some ways, but does that really matter? From his perspective, we might seem rude as well.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a matter of perspective, I’d say.”

A merchant is one who seeks profit through trade.

Therefore, they are destined to constantly use their heads.

In other words, using one’s head is as natural to a merchant as breathing.

However, for that very reason, they were often disliked in certain places.

Because they were always calculating profit and loss, they would steer conversations toward specific outcomes, cause misunderstandings, and, at times, even lie.

Thus, for some, merchants themselves were people not worth dealing with.

Anagin had merely recognized that aspect of them. After all, despite having slain a monster, they were already thinking of how to use him.

Perhaps, if not for inheriting his father’s dream, Lio too would have never understood such a perspective.

“Ahem, but City Lord… pardon me for saying this now, but are you sure this is wise? He may be a Gigant, but ‘they’ are Gigants as well, aren’t they?”

Those who wielded the power of the giants—Energy (Γι)—were called Gigants.

They were beings who once bathed in the blood of giants and inherited their strength.

Naturally, they left descendants, and among those descendants were still some who wielded the power of giants, remaining both feared and revered by mankind.

For Gigants were beings beyond reason—capable of saving countless lives alone, or destroying them just as easily.

And the ‘they’ the merchant mentioned belonged to the latter.

The Bender Caravan.

A merchant group that had recently seized control of trade in the surrounding regions. Though called a caravan, they were little more than bandits.

They sought out newly built towns and villages without proper protection, used force to impose one-sided trades, and as a result, this entire region suffered enormous losses.

The only reason merchants, who loathed loss as much as death itself, endured such tyranny was because the leader of that caravan was a Gigant.

Since Dysis Polis was not yet a major city with a temple, they had no means of resisting and thus had to tolerate the damage.

Lio sought to break that chain—and to that end, he had cunningly drawn in the outsider named Anagin. Though the plan had changed partway through.

“You changed the plan?”

“I’ll explain the details later. We still have time before the Bender Caravan arrives. Just know that it’ll likely turn out better than the original idea.”

“Ah, yes…”

The official merchant trailed off uneasily. Seeing this, Lio asked,

“Are you worried?”

“N-no, not really. It’s just…”

The merchant’s voice faded again. He might have said no, but he was clearly anxious—and rightly so.

Objectively speaking, Lio, the newly appointed City Lord and head of the trading guild, was still a greenhorn, and his plan to oppose the Bender Caravan bordered on reckless.

But that was precisely why he had to act now. Though the odds of failure were high, the situation left no room for hesitation.

If he did nothing, Lio would eventually lose control of the city—or worse, the city itself might fall.

So whether he liked it or not, he had to make a move. Besides…

“I don’t know why, but I have a good feeling about that man.”

Lio said this while gazing out the window at Anagin.

He was conversing with an old man, and the more Lio watched, the stronger his feeling grew.

Perhaps it was the intuition of a merchant.

He had to take the gamble.

* * *

When Anagin stepped outside, he saw the old man waiting in front of the carriage.

For reference, the old man’s grandson and granddaughter were sitting inside.

“Oh? You were waiting for me?”

“Yeah!”

The old man’s grandson raised his hand energetically as he answered.

“Oh my, I’m touched.”

“Did the talk go well?”

“Eh, so-so?”

“What did you talk about?”

The boy’s eyes sparkled as he interrupted, clearly curious about what kind of conversation Anagin had with the City Lord—the highest authority in the city.

“Well… oh, they said the city’s specialty is wine. It’s quite good, actually. But… doesn’t it seem like there are fewer people around?”

Anagin spoke absentmindedly as he glanced at the empty carriage. The passengers who had ridden with them earlier were nowhere to be seen.

“They got off. This city was their destination, after all, so they had no reason to stay.”

“Right, they said life was hard where they came from, so they came here. Speaking of which, could we talk for a bit?”

Anagin pointed to one side with his finger—not boldly, but rather suggesting they speak privately for a moment.

It wasn’t the kind of thing Anagin usually did, but the old man followed him without hesitation.

“What? I wanna know too!”

The boy, full of curiosity, tried to follow, but his older sister, sensing something, carefully held him back.

Anagin glanced at the siblings, then turned back to the old man.

Meeting his gaze, the old man asked,

“What is it you wish to talk about?”

Anagin crouched down, turning his back to the old man.

“Hmm… the City Lord asked me for a favor. Apparently, there are some nasty folks around here forcing unfair trades on the city. He said even the monster serpent’s body I gave them would be taken for a pittance. So, he asked me to act as if I were selling it on their behalf to get its proper price. In return, he’d pay me and even throw in a magical tool.”

“An Interspatial Bag, I suppose.”

An Interspatial Bag—a magical tool capable of holding large quantities of items inside a small pouch, with the exact capacity differing from one to another.

It was one of the most common yet most useful tools among all magical devices.

“Oh, you know your stuff.”

“It’s something every novice practitioner needs, so I’ve dealt with them in trade before… ahem, so then? What did you say?”

“I told him I’d think about it. It sounds convenient, after all… You used to be a merchant, right? From your point of view, should I accept or refuse?”

The old man didn’t answer right away—as if choosing his words carefully.

Time passed slowly before he finally spoke.

“To be honest, I think you shouldn’t do it.”

“And why’s that?”

“It won’t be as easy as it sounds. And there’s bound to be some hidden agenda. There are always people looking to use Gigants or practitioners.”

“I could hear the sound of scheming from him, yeah. But tell me, is that from experience?”

Anagin, still crouched, turned his head toward the old man.

“What I mean is… were you a practitioner too, old man?”

* * *

“I’m nothing more than an old peddler who’s laid down all burdens and just wishes to return home to spend the rest of his days with his grandchildren.”

The old man spread his arms. Even though his clothes concealed it, one could feel the frailty beneath—a body worn thin by years of hardship and failure.

Anagin looked at him quietly, then rose to his feet and walked a few steps in the opposite direction.

“I hope you make it back home safely.”

He said only that, intending to leave.

The unexpected tone made the old man call out to him.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Should there be more? We’re parting ways in this city anyway. That’s probably for the best—for both of us.”

Only then did the old man realize it. Anagin had noticed his discomfort and had even taken care to keep the children away before speaking.

The realization pricked at the old man’s conscience. He hadn’t expected this brash-looking young man to show such consideration.

So, against his usual nature, he spoke again—out of concern.

“…Will you keep walking the path of a practitioner?”

“Yes.”

“Never thought of giving it up?”

“If I were the type to quit after a single day, I wouldn’t have started in the first place.”

“Well… that’s true. A foolish question. You must have your reasons. Becoming a practitioner—especially one aiming to become a god—requires no small resolve.”

Despite not knowing Anagin for long, the old man understood the depth of his determination. And so he asked again.

“Even so, you’ve no thoughts of giving up?”

“That’s odd. You didn’t say much before.”

“You seem like a good person.”

“Your eyes must be failing you.”

“At the very least, you don’t seem like a bad one. From what I saw in the carriage… You failed, yes, but still. Take this as advice from someone who once walked that same path. Being a practitioner is not something meant for humans.”

“Bad memories, I take it?”

The old man neither confirmed nor denied it. He simply spoke.

“Just standing at the starting line of a practitioner’s path is difficult. You must go to the Temple of Delphi and receive the god’s selection.”

“The first method—Tacheon. I’ve heard of it.”

“Every year, countless practitioners visit the temple, but only a few are truly chosen. Sometimes, not even one. Do you know what becomes of those who aren’t chosen?”

“Let’s see… I heard they seek another chance?”

“Exactly. To catch the god’s eye, they build their fame. They wander from place to place, or settle somewhere and defeat monsters and villains.”

“Doesn’t sound like much.”

“But that’s only the visible part. Practitioners don’t just fight enemies they can see—they battle the ones they can’t. I told you before, didn’t I? Many seek to use them. Even those driven by pure intentions end up deceived—trapped in schemes, sweet words, and manipulation until they’re bled dry to the marrow.”

“Then I’ll just use them in return.”

“Many have said the same. And most of them lost themselves in the process.”

The old man’s face darkened, as though he were recalling something unbearable.

“At first, they draw their swords for vengeance—against those who used them. But later… they wield them for money, for twisted pleasure. And when that happens, they cross lines no human should ever cross. Eventually, they lose their conscience, their dreams… even the memory of who they once were. That fate is worse than death itself… And I, too, once—”

He faltered mid-sentence, unable to continue.

One of the city guards, armed with a spear, came running in a hurry toward the city hall.

His urgency drew everyone’s attention. Moments later, a voice echoed from the window—revealing the reason for the commotion.

“City Lord! They’re here! The Bender Caravan has just passed through the city gates and is heading this way!”