Carlo stepped out of the alley first. Isaac picked up his suitcase and rolled-up bedding and followed him toward the city gate. Amorton Manor was already close to the gate, so it wasn't far.
As Isaac walked, he remembered something. "By the way, Mr. Schuster..."
The moment the form of address left his mouth, Carlo raised a hand. "Stop."
"Huh?"
"I don't like being called that. It sounds like one of those troublesome clients talking to me." Carlo waved a hand. "Call me something else."
Isaac thought for a moment. "Then... Carlo?"
"How rude. Are we that close?"
Isaac: "..."
Did a guy who went around calling other people by their names without permission have any right to say that?!
Carlo put his hand back in his pocket. "Just call me boss, and drop the formalities too. They sound awkward."
Isaac thought it was a little strange to insist on being called boss while forbidding formalities, but since his boss had given the order, he complied. "All right, boss."
The two continued on their way, and Isaac returned to the subject the inexplicable question of how to address Carlo had interrupted. "Boss, Mr. Fenn mentioned that when he met you, you used one twenty-sided die, not two ten-sided ones like these. What's the difference?"
"Oh, that." Carlo kept walking. "That one's my personal die. Only I can roll it. When I'm alone, I prefer using it because I can use a few little tricks to get better results."
Isaac paused. "Isn't that cheating?"
"How can you call that cheating?" Carlo retorted. "I roll it with my own skill. I spent a long time practicing to get a feel for it, learning how much force to use and what angles make the die more likely to land on the number I want. That's technique, understand?"
Isaac had no answer. Apparently, rolling dice wasn't purely a matter of luck; you could use technique too... Did that mean he should practice his dice-rolling technique in the future?
Before long, the two reached the city gate. As in other cities, Palmer's walls marked its boundaries. The gray stone walls, some thirty meters high, separated the city from the wilderness. The gate consisted of two large black metal doors, currently open to let people and vehicles through, while uniformed guards checked the papers of those passing by.
Of course, there were also the most important things: the carriage teams.
Isaac studied the teams. Unlike the coachmen who picked up fares in the city, these drivers were plainly trained. They were all sturdily built and carried weapons, and several equally well-equipped mercenaries sat beside them. They were evidently members of mercenary groups who also took on escort work.
He was thinking that he had no experience choosing a driver or negotiating a price and would have to see how Carlo handled it, when Carlo walked straight toward one of the carriages.
The driver was leaning against a carriage shaft, smoking a pipe. When he saw someone approach, he took the pipe from his mouth.
Carlo looked the carriage over and asked, "How much for this carriage?"
Both the driver and Isaac paused. The driver lowered his pipe and looked Carlo up and down, checking whether he had heard correctly. "What did you say, sir?"
"The carriage. How much?"
The driver blinked. "You want to hire it, right, sir? If you want to hire it-"
"I asked about buying it," Carlo said impatiently. "How much would you sell this carriage for?"
This time the driver was genuinely taken aback. "You... just want the carriage?"
"That's right."
"And the horse..."
"I'm not interested in your horse. Keep it."
"Just the carriage itself?"
"Is your language system overly complex, or is your hearing system too feeble? Are you selling it or not?"
The driver scratched his head, looking at his carriage and then at Carlo, as if trying to decide whether the man in front of him had something wrong with his head. "Sir, what good is a carriage on its own? It can't move by itself."
"That's my business." Carlo pulled a wallet from his pocket. "Name your price."
The driver hesitated, then held up his fingers. "...Fifty pounds?"
Without another word, Carlo pulled several banknotes from his wallet, counted them, and handed them over. The driver took them in a daze, looked at them, then felt them. Once he had confirmed they were real, he looked even more confused.
"You-you want it now?"
"Yes, now." Carlo walked over to the carriage, opened a door on one side, and looked inside. He also knocked on the wall, as if checking its quality.
He really was rich... Isaac now had some basic confidence in his boss's finances. He picked up his luggage and followed, lowering his voice to ask, "Boss, why did you buy a carriage without a horse?"
"You'll find out in a moment." Without looking back, Carlo finished inspecting the carriage, nodded in satisfaction, and shut the door.
The driver was still standing where he was, unable to recover his wits. Though his carriage was well made, it was a few years old, and selling it for fifty pounds was a profit. But at the moment, his confusion outweighed his joy at making money.
In all his years in the business, this was the first time he had met someone who wanted to buy a carriage without the horse, and who bought it on the spot without even bargaining.
Carlo walked back to the driver. "The things in the carriage are yours, right?"
"Ah, yes, they're mine." The driver hurriedly climbed into the carriage and gathered up his personal belongings.
Carlo waited until the driver had finished and climbed down, then pulled out a few more banknotes and handed them over. "You have twenty minutes to get this carriage outside the city gate. Then you can get lost."
The driver took the notes and looked down. It was another ten pounds. The confusion on his face was immediately replaced by a smile, and he nodded repeatedly. "No problem, sir! I'll get it done right away!"
The driver deftly unharnessed the horse, led it aside and tied it up, then called over two helpers. Together, the three of them pushed the carriage out through the gate.
Isaac watched from a few steps away, thinking that Carlo really did spend money freely. It was good to be rich.
Carlo paid no attention to Isaac's gaze. He turned and headed toward the gate. "Come on. We'll go through first."
The two passed through the gate, and a guard asked as a matter of routine, "Papers."
Carlo took out a document with a dark green cover and casually handed it over. The guard took it and opened it. His gaze lingered on it for two or three seconds, and his expression changed subtly. He closed it and handed it back without asking anything, then stepped aside, not even questioning Isaac behind Carlo. "Go ahead."
Isaac followed Carlo through the gate and looked back at the guard. The man had already returned to his expressionless demeanor and was checking the papers of the passengers in the next carriage.
"Boss, what was that?" Isaac asked in a low voice.
"A special pass." Carlo tucked the document back into his pocket.