(Meanwhile, at the docks in Dagger's Rock Town)
"Are you sure about this? I heard working with him never ends up well. You definitely can't trust him."
Being a guard was a heavy responsibility, and something Reinhardt took very seriously. As a former mercenary, he knew about Tibron. Most of the mercenaries hired by that thug did not survive their contract, and some of these mercenaries were battle-hardened professionals. It had never been clear if Tibron purposefully sent them to their death or if his tasks were just that dangerous. Just one thing was clear; the rewards were alluring enough for mercenaries to keep accepting his jobs, despite the known risks.
"He has something that I want. We will meet alone; you protect the entrance. Don't let anyone disturb us."
"You are going to meet him alone? How am I supposed to take care of your security when I'm outside!" Reinhardt disagreed.
"Those are Tibrons conditions—no way around that. Wait here. I will be back soon."
Actually, Tibron had never told Edgar to come alone, but the merchant just did not trust Reinhardt enough yet. Edgar opened the door of an old house. Even on an island full of pirates, it was hard to find a shabbier place, but that was what made it a suitable hideout. The rotting walls had holes in them. Wooden planks covered the holes in an attempt to fix them, and the relatively new, bright brown planks stood in strong contrast to the dark greenish-brown of the wall.
The interior of the building looked somewhat better than the exterior. It was the same as any other household on the island. If Edgar did not know better, he would have thought that a regular worker family with a low income would live here. A child even came running towards him, navigating through a sparely but practically decorated living room.
"Hello, Mister! My Uncle is waiting for you. Follow me."
A small hand took Edgar's hand and led him through the kitchen to a cellar. Big wine barrels that a poor family should not be able to afford were stacked on each other all the way up to the ceiling. The child went towards one of the barrels and knocked in a specific rhythm.
There was no reaction, and it was silent for a few moments, then suddenly the lid of one of the barrels opened.
"Crawl through here. Uncle is on the other side."
The kid pointed inside the empty barrel and then walked back to the kitchen. Edgar was impressed by how thorough they were. Did this mean they crawled through that narrow barrel every day?
<
Thankful that he decided to keep himself in shape, Edgar squeezed himself through the barrel and stepped into a luxuriously furnished room. Inside the room, a short person was sitting behind a round table, holding back his amusement with the merchant's display. Next to him stood two giants among men, dwarfing him even more. This 160-centimeter tall man was Tibron.
Many people did not take him seriously due to his height, but that stopped after word got out that all of them got fed to sharks in tiny little pieces. Even the worst scum among the pirates did not want to mess with him. Rumors spread around that even the Pirate Lords paid him a certain amount of respect.
"Edgar, welcome to my little hideout. I've got what you wanted, but can you pay the price? I'll let you know that acquiring those items wasn't easy. If the Empire or the Pirate Lords find out I have got something to do with their disappearance, then I will have to stay in here for the rest of my life."
Tibron was playing around with a knife while looking the merchant straight in the eyes. Edgar simply smiled in response. Those little intimidation tricks did not faze him at all.
"Don't worry about the payment. I have it here. As the code dictates, I'll forget about this transaction, and so will you. We never handed anything to each other, and these items do not exist."
*Thump*
A large bowie knife penetrated the table. "Who do you think you are talking to? This is my turf, Edgar. You better show some respect." Tibron was small, but he was a fifth celestial step commoner and had the corresponding strength.
Edgar remained unfazed, nor was he scared of the tiny gangster. "Don't think you can intimidate me, Tibron. This is an equal exchange, which means I am running the same risk with my goods as you do with yours. You know it is protocol to establish the rules before finishing the trade."
*Ding*
Instead of answering, Tibron simply hit a half-empty cup of wine with a silver spoon. A melodic tone rang through the room, and a scholarly-looking man entered through a hidden door behind one of the two tall bodyguards.
<
It was just one more of Tibron's little tricks; it did not bother Edgar in any way. The scholarly man adjusted a monocle over his left eye and took out a scroll. Written in the scroll were not only the exact goods both parties were exchanging but also a non-disclosure agreement regarding the trade. On the bottom left of the scroll was a strange pattern of lines and circles that gave it a mystic air.
Tibron took out two small letter knives and handed one over to Edgar. "Cut your thumb and sign with your fingerprint. You know the procedure."
Only high-risk deals warranted a contract with such a scroll. The merchant knew that the goods he had been promised were highly illegal, but he did not expect that Tibron would make use of such an expensive measure. That scroll was worth at least 10 percent of the whole deal.
The merchant promptly cut thumb with the knife and signed the scroll. Instead of being afraid of possible consequences, the underground shark's effort in keeping the deal secret reassured Edgar that there would be no complications.
With both thumbprints on the scroll, the two bodyguards turned around and placed a small chest on the table in front of Tibron. They opened the chest to let Edgar confirm the content, upon which the merchant took out a heavy pouch and threw it to to the scholar.
Unprepared, the feeble scholar almost dropped the pouch. He stored it away and did not bother to check it. The pouches weight was enough proof of its content, and cheating Tibron in his own lair was not something a mere merchant would ever dare.
"Do you need help to transport that? For a small fee, we can take care of that for you." Tibron offered.
Edgar shook his head. "My guard captain is waiting for me outside, no need. If you find some more interesting wares, please contact me." He then lifted the chest and moved towards the barrels.
*Clang*
A dagger struck a barrel next to the exit. The blade had disappeared entirely, and only the handle stuck out. Even Edgar's commoner physique would provide little protection against the speed and force with which the dagger had been thrown.
Edgar had to admit that his legs did feel a little shaky after seeing the dagger barely missing him. Not wanting to turn around and give the short devil with a height complex any satisfaction, the merchant just ignored his shaky legs and placed the chest inside the barrel.
This little act was something Tibron did with almost all of his trading partners. It was both to prevent being underestimated and enjoy those taller people full of themselves pissing their pants a little. He was actually satisfied with the done deal—Edgar had paid a very generous amount for the goods.
"Alright, old man. Get out. If this hideout gets compromised, I know whose fault it was, so for your own good, you better stick to the contract." Tibron gave one last warning while Edgar crawled back to the cellar.
Soon enough, a few of his goons confirmed the departure of the merchant and his guard. Tibron took a sip of wine and looked up to the ceiling. Sharks are the predators of the ocean. He had never thought he would give up his pride and work with the fishermen. Well, it was too late now anyway; the little fish had taken the bait.