Chapter 67: The Rift with Trishel

"...So you came."

"Hey, Salem."

"You’ve got some nerve showing your face, Trishel. After using up that treasure staff like that."

"Well, it got cut, didn’t it? Even if I’d left it alone, it was going to explode anyway."

"And you thought it was fine to throw it at me?"

Ah, looks like she’s mad about something else, too. I never expected that would be enough to take her out anyway—I just wanted to create an opening. Still, blue defying white… of course she’d be angry. Chain of command or not, at the end of the day, I can’t really go against Salem either.

"Come on. My way of doing things means following the Princess’s will comes first, right?"

"That is… true. I suppose it can’t be helped."

"Exactly. Besides, it’s partly your side’s fault for being so bad at getting your point across."

"What was that?"

"Sorry."

Jeez. I only meant it as small talk. Don’t get so mad—you’re scary.

"You stopped walking. That means we’ve arrived."

"Ah, sorry, forgot."

"Don’t forget."

From here, my exchange with Riven switches into the finger-tapping code he used with his subordinates. Whatever Salem says, I’ll relay through taps while speaking aloud at the same time. There’ll be a slight lag, but to an observer, it’ll look like an ordinary conversation. Honestly, being forced to memorize this just for this situation was really… ugh. At least my memory training as a covert agent paid off and I picked it up fast. Still, what a reckless guy.

"...So. Your eyes and ears healed, huh?"

"No. That’s exactly why I came to you."

"Funny, since we’re having a perfectly normal conversation."

"Want to know how? I don’t mind adding that to the terms of our deal."

Yeah, even without seeing her face, I can tell she’s irritated. About to use negotiation as a threat, and here he is pushing her buttons. Though, maybe in normal negotiations that’s the right move—make the other side lose composure and strike at the opening. But to me, it just feels like a bad play.

"...And where’s the Princess? I don’t see her."

"I’ll tell you, along with the rest."

Saying that, the man lowers himself onto one knee, sitting firmly on the spot. It’s his way of showing he’s here for a serious talk.

"...Fine. I’ll listen."

She took the bait. At least we managed to get her to sit at the table. First step cleared.

"We came here to negotiate."

"Negotiate? Hah. For the record, the only thing I’ll accept is bringing the Princess into town. No other concessions."

"Unfortunately, that’s not something we can swallow."

"Then the talk’s over. I’ll let you walk away for now. Bring the Princess here, and then maybe I’ll hear you out again."

Just as expected. We’d predicted this outcome from the start. Riven’s lips twist into a crooked grin.

"Now, wait. You don’t actually think you’re the one holding the scales, do you?"

"...What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re not the one doing the choosing."

Salem froze mid-step. She’s trying to figure out what he really meant. And of course—there’s no way she can see the source of his confidence. The lower levels have been completely cut off. All she knows are scraps.

"Choose. Heal me, or abandon this town."

"!?"

Got her. No doubt that hit her from an angle she hadn’t even considered. Couldn’t be more obvious. Live long as she might, subtle scheming never became her strength.

"...Say it again. What do you mean by that?"

"Hm. I’ll spell it out for you."

Riven deliberately drags out his words, then begins explaining.

"Do you understand the basics of social structure? Those in power can only remain in power because of the people working beneath them. A king without subjects is no king. It’s the most natural truth there is."

By this point, Riven’s already achieved his aim. In negotiation, holding the initiative in the conversation means everything. Guiding thoughts, concealing options—advantages upon advantages. The difference in experience between a shut-in and someone who’s risked their life in the field couldn’t be clearer.

"So, how do you break down an existing social structure? You could crush the rulers—that’s one way. Or, you could strip away the ruled. That’s another."

"...You can’t be serious. You do realize the Alliance is made up of multiple nations, right? Are you planning to pick a fight with them all at once?"

Also predicted. Things are going exactly as planned, and the smile plastered on his face isn’t going anywhere.

"Pick a fight? No, that won’t happen. Because what we’ll do won’t violate a single regulation of the Alliance."

"...Then what?"

"What do you think would happen if every adventurer stopped working—voluntarily—for just a few weeks?"

Time stopped.

It was a simple answer.

—The laboring class stops working. That too is a way to overturn power structures.

Without the workers, the powerful cannot remain powerful. And this time, we’re talking about adventurers—individuals who carry arms. Suppressing them would not be easy. At worst, it could spiral into a full-scale rebellion.

"You could never pull that off! Do you know how many live hand to mouth?"

"Then let me ask you back—do you have any idea how many people that softhearted fool has lent a hand to?"

Riven’s replies didn’t falter. Even allowing for the lag of me relaying his words, there’s no way he could answer at that speed without anticipating Salem’s reactions.

"Sure, there are people who hold grudges. But generally speaking, she’s treated like a goddess of fortune, especially among the upper ranks of adventurers. No doubt about it—the town’s economy would grind to a halt."

Not everyone needed to stop. His whole reasoning hinged on the fact that adventurers depend heavily on their top tier. And it’s true—weak adventurers can only do jobs anyone could fill. Replaceable, all of them. But the veterans? If they walk away, who steps in? The answer: no one.

"Even so!"

"The town’s strongest clan is more than willing to comply. In fact, they’ve even agreed to provide some aid to the hand-to-mouth types."

Reynard himself wasn’t there, but his people were sure he’d approve. …What a bleeding-heart clan. But really, that’s the kind of clan they are—built on helping and being helped in return.

"...Still, it’s impossible."

She could barely get the words out, left stunned. I quickly relayed the message to Riven.

"Well? Have you decided? Collapse the town’s structure, or heal me?"

His voice was calm, but I was sweating bullets. This was a gamble. If she coolly dismissed it—said a town wouldn’t crumble so easily—then everything we’d set up would fall apart. And truthfully, I thought the number of people we could actually mobilize was even smaller than he let on. Would it be enough to deal real damage? Probably not.

But by riling her up, stripping away her composure, and bluffing with false options, he cornered her. It was the right move.

—If the opponent weren’t a fanatic trapped by her own obsession.

"...Fine. I’ll admit it. I lost this round."

I could feel the atmosphere shift beyond the darkness. I braced myself, ready to unleash magic at any moment.

"But I won’t heal that man."

Just as I thought. That’s exactly the answer I’d expected.

"...Why not?"

"Why not? The reason’s simple. After being pushed this far by those black beasts, I haven’t fallen so low that I’d back down now."

Damn it. Letting Riven ramble freely had backfired.

"We cannot lose. Not to the likes of you anymore!"

"Tuning!"

I fired off the spell I’d prepared.

In an instant, my vision warped, my brain churned in searing pain. An avalanche of information slammed into me, threatening to shatter my mind. But that choice saved us.

The ceiling above suddenly collapsed where we’d stood, intent on crushing us outright. A kill strike, no doubt.

"...You could do that all along? Then why not start with it?"

"Because the strain on me is enormous. And more than that, the thought of linking with you is downright revolting."

"Better revolting than dead."

The spell was one of sensory synchronization. For a moment, I shared my sight and hearing with this man.

In that instant, he grasped everything about the situation and pulled us both clear. Without it, even if I had survived, he would’ve been flattened by the falling stone.

"This feels absolutely vile. The worst feeling ever."

"Endure it. How long will it last?"

"Not long. Your thought speed’s way too fast—I’m getting sick from the sheer flood of information..."

The danger of this spell is that every passing thought gets transmitted to the linked partner. You’d think that would eliminate the need for speech—but having someone else’s thoughts endlessly spinning through your head is unbearable. It’s only ever a last resort.

Because of it, I could hardly move at even a tenth of my normal capacity. I never wanted to do this again. Honestly, I wanted to cut the link immediately. But if I did, one of us would die.

From the darkness ahead, I heard Salem’s footsteps approaching. Not good. We can’t let her close the distance. That thought—take it. I can’t even say it aloud without wanting to vomit.

"We’ll think about what comes next later. For now, I’ll kill you, and then find the Princess. That will solve everything."

"God, you’re so short-sighted...!"

Ah. I felt it—Salem was summoning the dungeon’s monsters to her side.

"What? Damn it, run!"

Maybe realizing I couldn’t keep up with his thoughts anymore, Riven actually said it out loud. I was grateful beyond words.

"You think I’ll let you escape?"

"Oh, I will. My vision’s not great, but now that my hearing’s working again, it’s more than enough."

And just like that, our second retreat began.