CH348 Haggleworth's Performance

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"I didn't find the craftsman of the Coinage Moonstone—they found me," Haggleworth revealed. "I can't tell you much about them, but they came to me as if out of a dream. They handed me the Coinage Moonstone and instructed me to sell it on their behalf."

"Someone you didn't know just handed you this and ordered you to sell it—and you actually did?" Lady Kaelwiryn of the Eternal Valkyrie Empire frowned.

"Because they were someone I couldn't refuse," Haggleworth admitted. Then, with a wry smile, he added, "Frankly, compared to everyone in this room, they terrify me more to offend. I don't believe they are even at the Legendary rank."

He quickly continued, "Still, fear wasn't the reason I accepted. It was because they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. If I sold the Coinage Moonstone successfully, they promised to bring me more products—rare items unseen anywhere in Pangea."

"They were also very specific about one condition," Haggleworth said. "The ring must be sold for Top-Grade Mana Stones only. They were adamant about this. That tells me they are in desperate need of such stones."

He paused briefly, letting the statement hang in the air before adding, "To the best of my knowledge, people at their level shouldn't need Top-Grade Mana Stones. That leads me to one conclusion…"

"They're building something that requires them," the Smithmaster interrupted, eyes gleaming.

"As expected, Your Excellency understands." Haggleworth nodded respectfully, hiding the subtle flattery behind a solemn tone. "I believe this individual is on the verge of creating something monumental—something that demands Top-Grade Mana Stones. As we all know, such stones aren't used for trivial matters."

He interlocked and leaned forward. "From what I've gathered, they're not part of any major organisation, despite their perceived strength. Which means they'll need more resources soon. And when that happens, they'll likely return to me with more rare artefacts. As a merchant, how could I refuse such an opportunity?"

"Then why tell us all this?" the Nearmarch Councilman asked, narrowing his eyes.

"It's obvious," the High Comptroller interjected, giving Haggleworth a knowing look. "He's worried."

"Worried?" repeated the representative of the Craftsman Alliance.

"The High Comptroller is right," Haggleworth confessed. "I am worried. This person is unfathomable and I can't read their true intentions. So, I organised this auction to attract people of your calibre here. Not just to make a profit… but as insurance."

"You're quite bold, gnome," the High Comptroller laughed. "The Palace Head here is using our own greed against us. He knows everyone in this room would be curious about the identity of this unknown craftsman and would send people to track him down.

"If the craftsman truly harbours malicious intent, then the organisations represented here will uncover it. If not, then the Palace has nothing to fear from doing business with him. Either way, the Palace continues to profit—no matter the outcome."

"This… is the only way I found to survive, ladies and gentlemen," Haggleworth sighed.

"But if this craftsman is truly interested in resources," the representative of the Mage Association spoke up, "why come to you instead of approaching more established institutions?"

Haggleworth hesitated before responding.

"The craftsman is extremely cautious about concealing his identity," he said at last. "They took every possible precaution to prevent being discovered. That's precisely why they came to me.

"I was trained to become a diplomat of the gnome race before I became the Palace Head of the Golden Palace. I'm sure everyone here understands what that means."

"The gnome race serves as the mediators of the Inter-Racial Council," the High Comptroller interjected. "To maintain neutrality, every gnome diplomat carries a mental ward embedded within their mind. If anyone attempts to extract information through psychic or mental means, the ward activates to block it. In the worst-case scenario, it kills the diplomat to protect the secret."

"So that means our mysterious craftsman knew this—and deliberately chose you," the Comptroller added, turning to Haggleworth.

"Exactly." Haggleworth nodded. "Ordinarily, if the organisations here were determined enough to uncover the truth about the craftsman, you'd definitely interrogate the intermediary. However, the ward in my mind makes that impossible."

He turned toward the Mage Association's representative. "Hence, why he chose me."

Then his gaze swept across the room.

"I arranged for this auction to be a closed-door affair among the most powerful forces in our world. It's the only way to regain some measure of power for myself, a man caught between both sides."

"So, even though you can't help anyone find this mysterious craftsman," Lady Kaelwiryn asked with a faint smile, "you won't help hide him either, is that it?"

"Yes," Haggleworth nodded. "And since I've been forced into the role of an unwilling intermediary, I decided I might as well profit from the situation."

"That's a boldness and fighting spirit I didn't expect from a gnome," Lady Kaelwiryn said, smiling in approval.

"However," she continued, her tone turning razor-sharp, "if you intend to profit from EVE, then you'll have to offer me something more. How do I know what you've said is true? How can I be sure this isn't some elaborate scheme orchestrated by someone in this very room?"

Her gaze shifted toward the quietest person present — the representative of the Virellian Empire.

The other imperial envoys turned thoughtful.

Indeed, if there truly was some hidden conspiracy, the most likely culprit would be the Virellian Empire.

After all, the Golden Palace was originally founded within the Empire's territory. If the Empire was secretly backing it, the Palace's meteoric rise would suddenly make perfect sense.

The Virellian representative returned their stares with calm defiance, his expression unreadable. Yet behind his eyes flickered the faintest trace of suspicion — not only at Lady Kaelwiryn, but at all seated in the room.

That subtle exchange didn't escape the notice of the seasoned powerhouses present.

"Did this craftsman give you a name?" the IronHammer representative asked, cutting through the tense silence.

"Yes, he did." Haggleworth nodded. "He called himself the Oni Head, Hattori Hanzo. But I strongly suspect it's an alias."

'Oni Head, Hattori Hanzo…' The delegates silently repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Then, as if recalling something, Haggleworth turned toward Zora.

"Ah, yes—Lady Zora, please show them the ring. I believe his craftsman's symbol is engraved upon it."

Zora nodded and carefully retrieved the ring from its box, holding it up for everyone to see.

Most of the delegates were formidable figures themselves. Even from their seats, they could clearly make out the delicate symbol etched along the inner rim of the ring.

Some went a step further, extending their Spiritual Force to inspect it more closely.

The moment their senses brushed the artefact, several of them flinched in shock.

"Providence!" the craftsmen in the room gasped—especially the Smithmaster, who rose abruptly to his feet.

"How is this possible? How can someone use Providence to craft!?" The Smithmaster was beside himself.

He was both shocked and livid.

It should have been impossible to consciously manipulate Providence, let alone use it to a craft something. Yet here it was, an undeniable trace of deliberate usage of Providence within the ring's construction.

'This… this wasn't accidental.'

'The craftsman intentionally left a residual thread of Providence behind — as if wanting it to be discovered.'

That was what truly stunned the Smithmaster. It was a feat he himself could not accomplish.

And it infuriated him just as much as it impressed him.

Providence was something even those at the Legend Rank and beyond struggled to accumulate through years of deliberate action and fate's favour.

To think that this mysterious craftsman had not only wielded it, but had spent it—to forge not some world-breaking divine artefact, but merely an Interspatial Ring…

'This wastrel!' many of the craftsmen thought.

"WASTREL!" the Smithmaster bellowed aloud, unable to contain himself.

Then, after a long breath, the old dwarf sighed heavily.

"Still… though it's wasteful, it's effective," he muttered. "In this room, filled with the sharpest minds and greediest powers, this is the best way to make a statement."

Indeed—

"Anyone who can consciously use Providence… never mind forge with it, is not someone to be underestimated," the Smithmaster declared solemnly. "We could be looking at an Epic Craftsman… or someone even higher."

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. The powerhouses present grew silent and grim. They all understood the implications without needing further explanation.

"Looks like we should worry less about who the craftsman is," the Virellian Empire's representative finally spoke, his voice steady but edged with weight, "and more about the artefact he's brought before us."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Palace Head, enough with the chatter. Begin the auction."

Haggleworth looked around the room. Every delegate wore the same expression — solemn anticipation mixed with hunger.

"…Alright then." The gnome took a deep breath and nodded.

"Let the auction begin."

---

An hour later…

Haggleworth and Zora quietly returned to the Tower Master's office, where Alex sat waiting.

"How did it go?" Alex asked the moment they entered.

Zora activated the isolation array, sealing the room from all forms of surveillance or eavesdropping.

"It went exactly as you predicted," Haggleworth said, lowering himself into a chair with a long exhale. "The nine parties reached a prior agreement before the auction even began."

***

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