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Commerce Emperor Chapter 5: Skill Loans
🕑 Added 2023-05-23 07:57:57 +0000 UTCPrevious Chapter
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“Go fetch me your criminals, and your elderly.”
Such was my first decree as Lord Protector of Snowdrift and Counsel to the countess-to-be. Any bank worth their salt required an initial investment, and thankfully Snowdrift housed quite a large population of retired workers or infirm individuals with skills to share. They would serve as our initial pool of talent.
After sending Saraseo and Colmar away, Therese, Alaire, and I spent the day reviewing our candidates in the waiting room. Therese immediately found issues with my powers, however. “If you sell knowledge, you can no longer remember it yourself?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “I have to learn it again by other means. It’s why I’ll have to be careful about the skills I loan to others.”
“Even if you purchase knowledge you already possess?” Therese crossed her arms. “What happens if you store information in an item, but learn it another way? Would you retain the information once you lose the object?”
“Good point,” I said. Best check that out first. “Do you two know how to play Shield-Sword-Scroll?”
“Of course I do,” Alaire answered with a grin… only to blink in shock when her lady friend coughed in embarrassment. “You’ve never played Shield-Sword-Scroll, Therese?”
“While I assume it is a game, no, I have yet to hear of it.”
“Perfect.” I grabbed a copper coin. “I will sell you this coin and knowledge of how to play Shield-Sword-Scroll as a package deal in exchange for a single smile.”
“Very well,” Therese replied with a warm grin. Much like my previous experiments on the ship to Snowdrift, I lost my knowledge of how to play Shield-Sword-Scroll when I sold Therese the coin.
“Oh, this game sounds amusing!” Therese said, having gained the knowledge required to play the second she touched the coin.
“It is,” I replied with a grin. “Or it will be, once you remind me how to play it.”
Therese proceeded to explain the rules; I always selected Shield-Sword-Scroll because it was very simple to grasp quickly. We played five games, which she all won; much to her amusement. “Do we keep going?” she asked me.
“Not with me.” I took the coin from her hand. “Can you play games with Alaire?”
I expected Therese to answer no. Instead, she smiled with excitement. “How about three out of five, my dear Alaire?”
Alaire’s eyes burned with a competitive spirit. “Game on.”
I watched on as they played round after round of Shield-Sword-Scroll. Alaire did not need to explain Therese the rules; she simply knew how to play.
“How?” I asked when Alaire concluded the final round with a victory. “How can you keep the knowledge without the coin?”
“I do not remember how I first learned to play the game, Robin,” Therese replied with a chuckle. “But I remember teaching you the rules and besting you.”
My heartbeat quickened with excitement. “We’ve found a loophole!” I rejoiced. “The item’s wielder loses the knowledge once they no longer touch the object–”
“But since they keep their memories of applying that knowledge, they can learn through osmosis, experience, and muscle memory,” Alaire guessed with a grin on her face. “This will let us loan skills around and accelerate training!”
I immediately proceeded with another test: I asked for a piece of bread, got it, then sealed my Shield-Sword-Scroll expertise within it. Then I broke the bread into two pieces and tossed one half of it on the table.
“Care for a game?” Alaire offered while tightening her fist.
I stared at her hand for a few seconds before realizing I had no idea how the game should be played. I grabbed the other half of the bread and then remembered. “Since it’s a package, the item needs to be whole,” I complained. “I can’t sell fractions of knowledge, so tearing the object to pieces wastes it all unless I can recover them all.”
“And what happens if you eat bread salted with game rules, Robin?” Alaire teased me. “Will you digest the knowledge too?”
She meant it as a joke, but I took it as a challenge. I swallowed the bread whole. “I still remember how to play Shield-Sword-Scroll,” I said. “But we’ll hold off on games until later, to see if I retain the knowledge after a day has passed.”
“What should we seal the skills into?” Therese asked. “We need something that can be both easily repaired, can be identified at a glance, and is difficult to steal.”
“Clothes,” Alaire immediately suggested. “Garish, colorful clothes that stand out.”
“Then we can set up a color system to determine which clothing grants which skills,” I added. “As they say, the clothes make the man.”
“Let me take care of the wardrobe.” Therese clapped her hands with a delightful smile. “The citizens of Snowdrift will never have been better dressed!”
We set up an organized procedure to deal with our pool of retirees. Each of these people was asked to sign a confidentiality contract, to prevent them from sharing information about my class and power, then offered a trade: their hard-earned skills against monetary or social compensation.
Our first candidate was a retired blacksmith, an old man with a graying beard, rotten teeth, and hands devastated by arthritis. He kept a sliver of the muscles that served him so well in his forge, but time and life’s ordeals had taken their toll on him.
Old age is a shipwreck, I thought grimly. “Mister Bjorn, are you certain about this payment?”
“Yes.” The old man frowned in sorrow. “Is it too much to ask for, m’lord?”
“No, I…” I gulped. Conducting this transaction was far harder than I expected. “But I… do you understand what we’re asking of you? You will lose thirty years of hard-won experience. A lifetime of skills.”
“Aye, m’lord, I understand,” the blacksmith replied wearily before raising his calloused hands. “But what good is experience when you can’t make use of it?”
“But all you’re asking for is that you’re fed, clothed, and housed until the rest of your days,” Alaire pointed out with a saddened scowl. She felt as uneasy as I did. “Don’t you want gold, or a new house?”
“I had both once, m’lady. And children and grandchildren too.” The smith sighed. “What the plague didn’t take from me, age did. I’ve got nobody to take care of poor little ol’ me. The priests kept me from starving, but I can’t rely on their kindness forever, you know? At least I would have earned my retirement.”
Men asked for little when they had nothing left. How crushing.
“I… I can’t sign this deal,” I informed Alaire. “He deserves more than kitchen scraps.”
“I will house him in the castle,” she replied kindly. “Considering how much his skills will benefit the community, he deserves it.”
“Perhaps we could open a retirement home of some kind?” Therese suggested. “Since he and the next candidates will provide for Snowdrift, the city should provide for them in return. It’s only natural.”
“I suppose we could fund it,” I agreed before locking eyes with Bjorn. “I will ask again. Are you certain of your choice? You’ll be taken care of, I swear on the goddess’ name, but you can still ask for more.”
“M’lord is kind, but my mind’s made up.” The blacksmith nodded. “I’ll take the deal.”
A lifetime of work was traded away for a few years of comfort. The rest of the procession proved just as heart-wrenching to deal with.
A weaver who had lost both eyes to diseases asked for her sight back; and when that couldn’t be arranged, due to lack of prospective sellers, she asked for the same deal as the blacksmith before her. She got that and the promise I would give her back her vision the moment I could find a potential eye-donor.
A crippled soldier offered to sell a lifetime of skill in battle for an expensive witchcrafter-made prosthesis so he could walk again. He walked away with a promissory note from the state and a purse. Though he appeared happy with the trade, I couldn’t shake the feeling we had shortchanged him nonetheless.
An old farmer asked for ten gold coins; he offered not only his skills, but his farm too. Bandits had killed his last heir and he couldn’t find a seller. We let him keep the land and promised we would soon send workers to make it flourish anew.
These poor people came by the dozens, all of them willing to sell away decades of toil and hard work for little more than food and pocket change. While I tried to offer what I thought they deserved, most were simply so beaten down that they had lost what little aspirations they had. The situation in Snowdrift was so desperate that surviving had become an end in itself.
“It’s like this every day,” Alaire informed me when we reached the session’s end. “Every day.”
It only hardened my resolve to improve this city. People shouldn’t sell their life’s work for pocket change.
I tried to tell myself this would pay off in the end. We ended up with three blacksmith brigandines, three mason mantles, three physician pelerines, two carpenter hauberks, two weaver waistcoats, three farmer frocks, two steward tunics, and two shipwright doublets. I bought skills, combined them, and packaged them.
After purchasing abilities from the honest people of the city, we moved on to more… unsavory lots.
“The Black Keep’s jails currently hold seven prisoners,” Therese explained to me. “Nearly half of them are scheduled for execution.”
“Are we certain they committed the crimes they stand accused of?” I asked. It would annoy me to shake down innocents.
“The evidence is overwhelming,” Alaire replied firmly. “I personally oversaw their cases.”
After a day of work, I realized the two women made quite the pair. Behind her finery, Therese Delaluz was a capable administrator; it was she who gathered all the documents I required, assembled the ledgers in an easily readable manner, and quickly answered inquiries I might have on financial matters. Alaire, meanwhile, preferred fieldwork; she spent her mornings patrolling the demesne with the knights, checking up on the garrison, and heard petitions in person. A velvet glove and an iron hand.
“Why do you stay in Snowdrift rather than return to the Everbright Empire, Therese?” I asked the imperial princess while we waited for the guards to bring us the prisoners. “I believe your sister keeps imperial nobility in check quite well.”
“True, but I wasn’t sent to Archfrost simply to ensure my safety,” Therese replied. “I am expected to wed a local noble to improve ties between our countries.”
“I envy the groom then.” Therese would have been my type. “I hope he understands the honor granted to him to marry such a beautiful flower as yourself. If he does not, I would gladly duel him for your favor.”
Therese answered with an enigmatic, amused smile. “You might come to rue these words, Robin.”
“I should cut off your salacious tongue.” Alaire snorted. “I thought you were audacious, but now I realize you are merely shameless.”
“Is it not my duty as your Counsel to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth?” I shrugged. “Who is first in line, Therese?”
“Bishop Sigislav Hranslow, condemned for blasphemy. He was caught repeatedly haranguing the peasantry with pro-Reformist sermons.”
I had heard of them. Reformists were a grassroots movement that argued that worship of the goddess and the four artifacts should be a private affair, and that the Arcane Abbey shouldn’t play politics. Moreover, Reformists believed that all creatures in the world, even hated beastmen, were children of the goddess, and that heroes shouldn’t be worshiped as they remained fallible humans. I agreed with most of their points, to be honest.
Unfortunately for Reformists, the Arcane Abbey was a powerful institution in Archfrost: the first king long ago had been a Priest, in both senses of the word. The Abbey supported the monarchy’s legitimacy, and in turn Archfrost protected the institution. It didn’t help that the rebel duchy of Walbourg was a Reformist hotbed; being one in Archfrost was tantamount to defying royal authority.
“The Arcane Abbey called for public humiliation at the stocks,” Therese read the file, “followed by monastic seclusion until he repents.”
“I don’t think speaking one’s mind warrants life imprisonment.” I studied our prisoner as he was brought before us in irons. He was quite the gaunt fellow, though he carried himself with an air of quiet dignity. “Do you regret your words, Sigislav?”
“No,” the man replied bluntly. “The Abbey spends more time administering its wealth than sharing it with those who need it. And while I respect your authority, Lady Brynslow, I do not think your grandfather should have any influence in spiritual matters.”
“I see,” Alaire replied diplomatically. “I will keep that in mind.”
“Since a bishop should know how to read and write, I suggest we commute his sentence to community service,” I proposed. “He could work in the new bank as a clerk, and I would remove his ability to speak about the Reformation so long as he remains in our employ.”
“I doubt he will accept any deal that requires him to remain silent,” Therese said with a chuckle. “Will you accept this plea bargain, Sigislav?”
The bishop shook his head. “I would rather suffer on the pillory and retire in quiet meditation. The Abbey can imprison my body, but not my mind. History will attest to the righteousness of our cause.”
At least he stayed true to his beliefs. I admired his resolve. “Very well,” I said. “A bit disappointing, but I wish you luck nonetheless.”
The next name on the list was a poacher called Freydis, a muscled woman in her thirties with messy blonde hair and a sharp gaze. Alaire’s gaze softened when we received her.
“Milady,” Freydis said with a respectful bow.
“You know each other?” I asked Alaire.
“Freydis used to work for my lord grandfather,” she replied with a sigh. “But she turned to poaching after he dismissed her.”
“Milady knows I had no other choice.” To her credit, Freydis owed up to her crime. “I have three mouths to feed at home.”
Alaire’s expression harshened. “So do all the families who rely on legal hunting to subsist. Animals are getting scarcer in the forest, and your activities endangered their dwindling population.”
Animals were fleeing the area? I guessed they could sense the forming Blight. “I read that the punishment for poaching is the loss of your right hand, so you can never use a bow again,” I said. “How would you rate your skills as a huntress and archer?”
“I’m the best, m’lord,” Freydis replied with a scowl. “I plead m’lord not to take my hand. I will have no honest means of supporting my children without it.”
“I wouldn’t call poaching an honest living, but I hear your words.” I joined my hands. “Here’s my offer: we can use some rare magic to take away your skills as a hunter.”
Freydis frowned in confusion. “My… my skills?”
“You will no longer know how to use a bow or catch animals, so you won’t be able to commit the same crime again,” I explained. “In exchange, I will allow you to keep your hand and see that you are rehabilitated. We have no need for hunters, but we’re going to hire dockworkers, guards, peasant workers… the city will see to your training.”
“A wise decision,” Therese agreed with a nod. “If your intentions are genuine, Lady Freydis, you will have the opportunity to feed your family within the bounds of the law.”
Though she appeared doubtful about my power, Freydis did consider the offer. “My skills…” The possibility of selling away a lifetime of expertise unsettled her. “I’ll lose them forever?”
“You can still relearn them the old-fashioned way,” I replied. When it failed to reassure her, I tried to sweeten the deal. “We will allow you to buy them back once you pay your debts to society.”
Freydis hesitated for a few minutes, until a look at her hand convinced her. She could always learn to wield a bow again with training; whereas one couldn’t regrow lost flesh so easily. “I’ll take the deal, m’lord.”
“Excellent.” I grabbed a scroll and detailed the contract. Considering the scale of our operation, we decided it was for the best to keep written records of all transactions. “Just write down ‘I consent.’”
My magic triggered as soon as Freydis followed through; in exchange for the right to keep her hand, I brought all her huntress skills and most importantly, her silence on my power. I immediately felt a wealth of information surge into my mind; knowledge of how to wield a bow and other hunting weapons, how to track and kill game, how to dig pits and set traps, how to tell a wolf’s footprint from a dog’s, how to find food and water in the wild, how to hide and avoid wardens, and much, much more. Though I did let Freydis keep her understanding of how to butcher and harvest animal parts so she could still provide some economic utility to the community. I had removed the talents required to commit crimes, but left law-abiding means of subsistence and the possibility of regaining her lost abilities after a few years of community service. After a moment of confusion over her sudden memory loss, Freydis thanked us for the pardon.
The next two cases went swimmingly too. First came Odinika, a talented artist and scribe who ended up using her talents to forge documents and swindle tradesmen; and Master Gildegarde, a formerly respected member of the Trade Guild, who used his position to falsify his accounts and sell counterfeit goods.
“Besides the associated fines, the penalty for forging royal documents is public branding followed by ten years in the mines,” Alaire recounted. “For fraud, the punishment is public flogging followed by seven years of toil.”
“I could argue against the mine work,” Therese said. “No one would benefit from it.”
“Why’s that?” I asked. Snowdrift gathered most of its iron from nearby mines under its control.
The imperial princess provided quite the interesting reason. “We need to employ a guard per two prisoners to prevent escape, not to mention the cost of food and lodging, which eats at profit margins. I suggest putting them to work elsewhere.”
“Our guards would be more useful catching free criminals than overseeing those we already caught,” Alaire conceded. “But unlike Freydis, these two acted out of greed rather than necessity. I wouldn’t trust them.”
“Agreed, they’re not employee material.” I mulled over the sentences before coming up with a more interesting alternative. “How about buying their years alongside their skills?”
“You mean the years they would have spent in the mines?” Therese put a finger on her cheek. “It would both punish them and remove the necessity for prison, true.”
Alaire frowned at me. “Would that age them or revert them to children, Robin?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never tried.” I shrugged. “Which is another reason why we should check.”
We immediately tested my proposal on Odinika; in exchange for a pardon, the forger agreed to surrender ten years of her lifespan, her forgery skills, and her ability to lie so she wouldn’t become a repeat offender. The former scribe, a mousy woman in her twenties, agreed to the trade with a laugh. I would have thought a forger would know better.
The effects were quite spectacular: Odinika aged a few years in the span of seconds. Her hair gained streaks of gray, her hands wrinkled, her face grew more tired, and her extensive knowledge of how to forge legal documents flowed into me. I didn’t undergo puberty again, however.
“That’s unexpected,” I muttered while Odinika paled upon realizing what she had just agreed to. “Alaire, would you kindly purchase two years of life from me?”
“I’ll give you a silver coin in exchange,” Alaire replied wisely. Her new chainmail lacked the former’s polish. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
My power validated the trade, and I felt an intangible weight removed from my shoulder, but neither of us physically changed. However, I did feel… poorer. I couldn’t quite explain it in words. As if an invisible hoard I carried in my soul had suddenly grown lighter.
“Why hasn’t he aged?” Odinika complained after suffering from buyer’s remorse. “That’s unjust!”
“Because I still have eight extra years in store,” I guessed.
“It doesn’t explain why neither of us are getting any younger,” Alaire replied.
Therese came up with an interesting solution. “Robin did not purchase youth, he purchased more time.”
I nodded in agreement. As they said, there was no way to recover lost time. “I’m not getting back the years I already spent; I’m just postponing age’s next payment by eight years.”
Come to think of it, I once purchased Eris’ eye color, but regained my old ones when I traded the goods back to her. The trade overwrote my body’s features without erasing them either. Maybe my power worked like a bank account. I could store extra intangible assets without manifesting them directly in the physical world.
“I’m a bit jealous now,” Therese teased Alaire. “By the time I become thirty-one years old, you will still look twenty-nine.”
“I would rather trade these extra years to my grandfather,” Alaire replied with a frown. “He needs them more than I do.”
I doubted the count would get to enjoy those extra years without a vitality and youth package; delaying aging did nothing to heal wounds or undo the toll time already wrecked on the body. Besides, I needed to consider the ethics of time sales. I was fine exacting the toll from criminals as an alternative to punishment, but it might encourage unsavory practices.
We sent Odinika on her way and offered the same deal to Gildegarde; he walked out a free man short of seven years and unable to lie, and I greatly sharpened my knowledge of finances and Archfrost’s legal system.
However, we were done with the minor crimes. The other prisoners had all been condemned for heinous offenses. The next criminals on the list were a couple of grave-robbers and blasphemers; for while most Archfrostians preferred cremation, the Arcane Abbey buried its clergy when they perished. The duo, which included a professional gravedigger and a greedy priestess, opened forbidden tombs, stripped the bodies inside of their valuables, and then sold the corpses to a disreputable witchcrafter. Obviously, the Arcane Abbey called for their death for the sacrilege. I was tempted to follow through. These two hadn’t just robbed the dead—something doubly loathsome since most graves belonged to plague victims—but also violated the sanctity of their position.
“Gravedigger, priestess, I can spare you from death, but you will have to spend your life atoning for your crimes,” I said upon reaching a decision. “If you subject yourself to experiments.”
“Experiments?” the gravedigger choked. “You want us to become test subjects for witchcraters?”
Wouldn’t that be ironic after they tried to sell corpses to one? “I possess a power with many applications,” I said. “Some might be unsafe to test. If you agree to participate in potentially dangerous experiments, you will be spared the noose.”
“Good behavior might eventually earn you a pardon,” Therese proposed. “After a few years, of course.”
That kind of community service felt slightly more ethical than executing them outright, not to mention more pragmatic; and these two understood what few alternatives they had.
“I’ll take the possibility of death over its certainty,” the priestess said.
Her accomplice sighed. “Me too.”
“Perfect.” I smiled at them. “We’ll keep in touch.”
The last criminal was a lithe and handsome man-boy of sixteen who carried himself with aristocratic arrogance even when chained and bound. He reminded me of a peacock strutting into a room. He believed nothing would come out of this audience.
“My dear Alaire, I worried you had forgotten me.” He coyly smiled at Alaire, who turned away in disgust. “Now come on, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your fair face. When I was alone in my cell, I dreamed of it each night.”
“Seeing yours gives me a skin rash, Hugdan.” Alaire spat at his feet. Since she reacted to that boy’s teasing with far more vitriol than mine, I assumed he wounded her deeply in the past. “I hope you reincarnate as a pig.”
“Come now, is that a way to talk to your future husband?”
I chortled. “You?” I asked in disbelief. “No way, she’s far too good for you.”
“I know,” Alaire replied with a sneer. “Grandfather broke off our betrothal after he murdered an innocent man in a brawl.”
“A duel, Alaire,” said Ser Too-Proud-by-Half. “That man insulted me by calling my father a thief.”
“Is it true, Alaire?” I asked.
“The duel?”
“No, that his father is a thief?”
Ser Hugdan’s boyish face flared with fury. He actually tried to lunge at me across the table, in violation of all common sense, before the guards pulled his chains back and reeled him in. “Do you know who I am?!” the captive knight snarled in anger. “And who are you even?! Who gave you the right to address my fiancé?!”
“She did,” I replied as he struggled against his chains. “I’m not sure you understand the severity of your situation, Ser Hugdan.”
“Pff, what could you do to me?” Ser Hugdan sneered at me. “My father already paid the blood price. I should be free already!”
“Ser Hugdan’s father is a landed baron with more familial prestige than personal honor,” Therese said. I had to grant it to her, she managed to make even damning insults sound flowery. “His men have been accused of robbing travelers going through his territory. Though it is true that he offered compensation to the victim’s family, Count Brynslow did not feel that was punishment enough. The victim had no experience with weapons and duels to the death are forbidden.”
“I don’t get it,” I admitted. “Why would Count Brynslow betroth his granddaughter to a robber baron’s son?”
“You don’t know?” Ser Hugdan chuckled arrogantly, before adding outrage to his list of crimes. “My father was the only one magnanimous enough to look past her origins. She’s a bastard after all. Her noble mother got knocked up by some peasant and then went so mad they had to put her in an asyl–”
“Enough!” Alaire’s hand tightened on her sword’s pommel, though managed to keep enough self-control not to execute the man on the spot. “Guards, gag him!”
I watched as our soldiers shoved a piece of cloth down Ser Hugdan’s throat. If glares could kill, Alaire’s venomous gaze would have slain him on the spot.
Therese observed her friend with concern. “Alair–”
“Let’s move on,” she cut in, her voice brimming with anger.
“I confirm you’re too good for this idiot,” I reassured Alaire, before wisely following through with her advice. “What should be his punishment?”
Alaire scowled deeply, but did not answer. I could see her thoughts written all over her face: although he had committed a heinous crime, this man remained a noble’s son. Punishing the powerful meant facing consequences.
But if there was one thing I hated above everything else, it was well-born and wealthy assholes escaping justice. Ser Hugdan’s smug smirk only hardened my resolve.
“Very well,” I said before passing the sentence. “Death by hanging it is.”
Ser Hugdan’s smile faded away. He did still seem capable of comprehending my words though, since he still struggled against the gag.
“So long as I am Lord Protector, no one will be above the law. No one. You’ll be treated like everybody else.” I smirked at the arrogant loudmouth. His skin paled as the reality of his situation dawned on him. I motioned to the guards to remove the gag, so I could hear him beg. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You…” Ser Hugdan panicked when the guards grabbed him by the arms. “You can’t do this to me!”
“Are you certain, Robin?” Alaire asked, slightly uneasy with my choice.
“If his father wants to complain, he can come to me. I will take full responsibility.” That way, Alaire and her grandfather would be spared any reproach. Though I expected the baron to find his own way to the pillory. “Unless you want to offer him a pardon?”
Alaire quickly realized I was handing her a chance to look merciful. She studied Ser Hugdan for a few seconds before reaching a decision. “His victim was thirty years old,” she said. “I suggest you take thirty years of his life alongside his battle skills, so that he won’t be able to murder anyone ever again.”
Therese went the extra mile. “I suggest taking away his ability to inflict harm at all,” she proposed. “He will never raise a weapon ever again.”
More critically, it meant he wouldn’t be able to take revenge either. “That seems like an acceptable compromise,” I said before drafting a contract. “What do you say, Ser Hugdan? Will you take the deal, or the sword?”
“You’re bluffing!” the knight snarled. “You’re bluffing…”
“Is that so?” I drew my dagger and rose from my seat. “Guards, put him on his knees and call a janitor.”
“What?” Therese gasped in shock as the guards executed the orders. She held onto my sleeve. “You cannot execute a man inside the castle!”
“Why not?” I asked as I applied my dagger to Ser Hugdan’s throat. His face lost all color and his eyes were wet with fear. “Don’t worry. The carpet needed cleaning anyway.”
Alaire looked at me strangely. “This is not your first time.”
Ser Hugdan’s empty courage deserted him when he felt my steel to his skin. I guessed he was only brave when he didn’t risk losing. “Mercy!” he pleaded. “Mercy!”
“Do you agree to the plea bargain?” I prepared to take a swing at his skin nonetheless. “I’ll count to five. One, two–”
Ser Hugdan’s eyes darted to my blade, and then to the drafted contract. “I’ll take the deal!”
My magic aged the boy-knight to the middle-ages in the blink of an eye; the effect was far more spectacular than his predecessors. Ser Hugdan’s smooth youthful skin rippled and wrinkled. His thick chestnut hair thinned and grayed, like frost overcoming autumn leaves. His eyes sank deeper into his skull, and his hands grew weathered and calloused. Time’s weight was truly a tragedy.
The threads of his purchased skills flowed into me. I shivered in exhilaration as I gained memories of precise strikes, of a hundred parries, of the measured breath required to stand one’s ground, of heightened alertness and slight changes in stances. The ghost of countless drills echoed in my mind. I never understood just how many factors were required to properly win a duel before then. Ser Hugdan had been very talented in spite of his young age. A pity he wasted his skills. I would make better use of them.
“See?” I mocked Ser Hugdan. “That wasn’t too hard.”
His eyes had all the venom of a snake’s fangs, but when his mouth opened, no curse came out. Alaire and I watched on in amusement as Ser Hugdan coughed.
“Oh my,” Therese noted with a chuckle. “It appears the ability to do harm includes insults.”
The guards quickly took Ser Hugdan away, leaving us alone. I asked for a rapier to test my new skills and received one. I immediately practiced a few steps, waving the thin, slender sword with gracefulness. The blade made a gentle sound as it cut through the air. I immediately noticed that my feet didn’t move as quickly as my mind wanted. I’d purchased Hugdan’s skills, but neither his musculature nor body shape. It would take a while for the muscle memory to adjust to my own peculiarities.
“Bravo, Robin, bravo.” Therese clapped at the spectacle. I answered her applause with a mischievous reverence. “You will soon become a dashing duelist.”
“I’m jealous,” Alaire admitted. “It took me years to learn swordsmanship, and seconds for you.”
“You should take pride in it,” I replied upon sheathing the rapier to my belt. It would make for a fine partner for my dagger. “You’ve earned your skills, I purchased mine. I can’t take credit for this power.”
“So you can show some humility sometimes.” Alaire put a hand on her sword’s pommel. “Still, I would like to cross blades with you someday. Hudgan was a fool, but a promising duelist.”
“The prisoner’s skills are the city’s property,” I pointed out. I delivered the sentence in Snowdrift’s name, so I shouldn’t profit from them. “Shouldn’t I relinquish them?”
Alaire shook her head. “Keep them for now, Robin. Snowdrift will benefit more from a talented hero.”
“Your trust in me warms my heart,” I replied politely. “I’m not certain what to do with the purchased years though. They could fetch a high price, but I’m afraid it might encourage unsavory practices.”
Alaire crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. “I need more time to ponder it.”
“Well, it’s getting late anyway,” I said. The sunset would fall within hours. “I should go check on the others.”
“I’ll ride with you back to town,” Alaire said before turning her attention to Therese. “Can you see that the guards are ready for the night raid?”
“Of course,” Therese replied kindly. “They will ask questions about the target, however.”
“They will know once we launch the attack.” Alaire shrugged. “The fewer people aware of the truth, the less likely a leak will spring forth.”
Wise words. I wished Alaire had been in charge of Ermeline’s watch. The likes of Sforza would never have prospered under her leadership. We bid Therese goodbye and Alaire led me to the stables.
“Come on, ask away,” she said halfway through the courtyard.
“About what?” I asked.
“About my bastardry,” Alaire replied with a scowl. “I’m used to it.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t give a crap.”
Alaire raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t?”
“You could be a king’s bastard or a beggar’s daughter for all I care,” I replied. “I judge people on their actions, not their birth. Besides, it’s not my business to dig up old wounds.”
“I appreciate the sentiment.” Alaire’s scowl morphed into a thin smile. “Is that way of thinking common in the Riverland Federation?”
“The country certainly puts far less importance on birth than Archfrost,” I conceded. “Its people worship wealth rather than blood and names.”
“I am not certain that is a good trade-off.” Alaire’s smile faded away. “I intended to journey there once, and to many other places.”
“What changed?”
She scoffed. “My last half-brother died and my grandfather became short of an heir. I had to put aside my dreams of knighthood for our family’s sake.”
“I don’t see how the two are incompatible,” I replied. “You can be a knight and a countess. Isn’t our prince both the Knight and future king?”
“That’s true.” I could almost taste the bitterness in Alaire’s voice. “But Prince Roland is a man.”
Ah, I saw the problem. As the last heir of the Brynslow family, she was expected to settle down and do her duty to keep the line going; something that didn’t enchant her at all. I needed to find a way to lighten her up a bit. It saddened me to see so many angry lines on her fair face rather than a radiant smile.
The Black Keep’s stables accommodated many horses, winged or otherwise. The straw-covered floor smelled of hay, leather, and the occasional dung pile. Stable boys walked around wooden stalls to feed the animals. Alaire’s personal box housed a magnificent white mare with feathered wings rising out of her back. I’d never seen a pegasus so closely.
“Robin, let me introduce you to Silverine.” Alaire gently caressed the pegasus’ mane, who returned the gesture with a nuzzle. “Silverine, meet Robin.”
The pegasus observed me with pale blue eyes that betrayed her keen intelligence. I’d heard these animals were about as smart as human children, though less than their cruel cousins, the nightmares. I petted it on the head. “She looks splendid.”
“She is indeed,” Alaire agreed with a hand on the saddle. “Come on, climb.”
My heart froze in my chest. “‘Climb’?”
“We’ll fly to the docks long before the sun dips beyond the horizon,” Alaire replied. “Silverine is a big enough girl to carry two people.”
The pegasus let out a sound which I took for agreement. I… I tried to imagine myself climbing onto her back and being carried away up into the air, watching the ground below calling me down, like a gasping pit waiting to swallow me up…
“I’ll pass,” I replied politely, suddenly uneasy.
Much like a shark on the hunt, Alaire immediately smelled blood in the water. “No way…”
I didn’t like her gaze. At all. “It would be safer if I simply picked a second horse–”
“Oh, Robin, don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights?” Alaire smirked cruelly. “A brave man like you?”
I did the responsible thing in this situation: I lied. I lied through my teeth. “Of course I’m not afraid! I’m just mindful of my safety!”
Silverine observed blankly in silent judgment, and her mistress didn’t believe me either. “Could the fox be a hen in disguise?” Alaire taunted me, before making childish sounds. “Coot, coot, coot!”
“Stop that,” I said, dead serious. “It’s not funny.”
“We both know it is.” Alaire grew bored of toying with me and went straight for the kill. “I bet you’re too afraid to take a tour in the sky, Robin.”
When so challenged, my blood boiled in my veins. For pride’s sake, I couldn’t let that slide. But I didn’t want to fly either. I remembered a sage piece of advice that saved life many times in the past: when in doubt, bluff outrageously.
“Alright, you cruel woman, you want me to fly? I’ll fly with you.” I pointed a finger at her and went straight for the throat. “But once we reach the ground, I’ll cut your braid!”
Alaire’s eyes widened in shock. “My braid?”
“Your braid!” I pointed at this beautiful, thick snake of hair hanging over her shoulder. “I’ll cut it and keep it for myself, as a trophy!”
“Y-you’re mad!” When Alaire grew redder than a Fire Island tomato, I knew I had found her weakness. I’d seen her play with her hair when she felt nervous. “There’s no way I will agree to such scandalous nonsense!”
Exactly, I thought. “Are you afraid of losing, or of being shaved?”
“Mind your tongue, before I cut off your balls.” Alaire drew her sword and pointed her blade at the weapon between my legs. “Good luck finding a man willing to sell you a new set.”
“Well, if you’re so afraid…” I grinned in triumph as I delivered the coup de grâce. “You can always ask Therese to pay the price for you. I prefer silver over black anyway!”
Alaire saw red. Her blade came within an inch of my throat, to the point I could feel the steel brushing against my skin. “You…” She ground her teeth in rage, unable to form a coherent answer. “You vile… little…”
I win, I thought. She’ll fold, and I’ll take the road. The earthbound road.
My happiness must have shown in my eyes, for Alaire swiftly lost what remained of her composure. “Fine!”
My smirk faded away. “Fine?”
“I’ll… surrender my braid to you… on four conditions!” She raised four fingers. “You mustn’t fall. You mustn’t scream. You mustn’t cry. And most importantly…”
Alaire grabbed me by the collar and pulled me towards her. I could feel her warm breath on my neck.
“You can’t beg me to end it at any point,” she whispered into my ear. “I’ll listen, but you’ll lose. You’ll lose.”
Crap, she won’t back down! “If I win, everyone will know!” I warned her with false bravado. “I will parade my trophy to everyone, your near-baldness proof of your humiliating defeat!”
“That remains to be seen.” Alaire released me and then jumped on her mare’s back. “Are you going to climb on your own, or do I have to drag you?”
I knew she was playing me. I knew it. If I climbed on that damned horse, I would have to face a moment of pure and absolute terror. But Robin Waybright had never backed down from a bet.
Swallowing my fear, I sat behind Alaire. The saddle was absolutely uncomfortable and unfamiliar; tight ropes bound our belts to it so we wouldn’t fall off mid-flight. I felt like a virgin entering a bed for the first time. This could either go well, or absolutely terribly.
“By the end, Robin, you’ll be crying,” Alaire taunted me. “I swear it to the goddess. You’ll be crying like a child.”
What followed was thirty minutes of absolute torture.
My heart pounded like a war drum from start to finish. The moment Silverine’s wings unfurled and let her leap into the sky after we left the stables, I knew I would rue my ill-chosen words for the rest of my days. I hoisted myself to Alaire, holding onto her chest tightly. It would have been a pleasant experience, if it hadn’t been mind-blowingly terrifying!
I watched the ground recede beneath us and an all-encompassing blurry void swallowed my vision. I desperately clung to Alaire and snapped my eyes shut in fear. She laughed, the witch. She laughed all the way through as we soared through the clouds, the cold wind battering my naked face.
A Waybright was not so easily broken. I bit my tongue not to scream, fought off the nausea, and managed to open my eyes without crying for a floor under my feet. Alaire decided to test my resolve by having Silverine fly up and down, up and down! We could have reached the docks in ten minutes, but she gave me a tour of the city when I proved to be too strong-willed. The steady rhythm of Silverine’s wings became a maddening symphony. We rushed above empty cobblestone streets and wooden roofs alike, defied the breeze and flew above the farmlands.
“How do you like your first flight?!” Alaire peeked over her shoulder, her eyes searching for a tear. “It’s to cry for, isn’t it?!”
“You will pay for this…” I swore under my breath. “You will pay for this…”
She had Silverine fly upward with such strength it almost destroyed my stomach. I struggled not to vomit. I also forgot how to play Shield-Sword-Scroll somewhere along the way. As I feared, sealing skills into food was a waste. The consumer retained the knowledge only so long as their intestines allowed them to hold it; which in my case proved to be a short while. I might need to change my pants after this.
Thankfully, Alaire eventually grew bored of our little escapade. She had Silverine land on the docks, near the house I now shared with Marika; a good and honest woman, who would never have put me through such an odious experience! How relieved I was to see her and Saraseo waiting near the door with Beni and Colmar. The Alchemist was entertaining the child with his power, transforming his wooden toy pegasus to gold and then into a dozen other materials.
Silverine landed on the pavement with a thundering crash that nearly threw me off the saddle; I immediately jumped to the ground anyway, kissing it, loving it, promising I would never leave it again, and that I would never cheat on it with the treacherous sky.
“Robin?” Marika rushed to my side, her hands grabbing my shoulders in worry. “Robin, are you alright?”
How good her calloused fingers felt on my feeble body… almost as good as the feeling of the ground beneath my feet…
“I can’t believe it.” Alaire appeared almost impressed with my performance. “You won.”
“I will take my prize…” I covered my mouth and struggled with my nausea. Oh goddess, I needed to throw up. I wasn’t in good enough shape to stand straight, let alone wield a blade. “Another time…”
Marika smiled kindly at me, and Colmar gave me a sweet potion to prevent my stomach from pouring out of my mouth. Beni, however, stared at the pegasus with fascination.
“Do you want a ride?” Alaire offered Beni. The boy smiled ear to ear and looked to his mother for approval.
“No, Beni, no…” I pleaded with the poor child, who had no idea what awaited him. “Don’t let that wicked creature deceive you… the void will take your soul…”
Silverine squinted at me as if I were a pitiful worm. Like mount, like rider. Thankfully, Marika proved sensible enough to refuse. “Another time, sweetie,” she said, much to her son’s disappointment. “Lady Alaire, I presume?”
“You must be Marika, the Artisan?” Alaire climbed down from her pegasus and shook Marika’s hand. “A pleasure to welcome you to Snowdrift. Have you finished overseeing the city?”
“I’ve scoured the city for sources of corruption and approached the tavern Lady Freygrad mentioned, the Gilded Wolf.” Marika scowled. “Besides being a pit of foul essence, I sensed the demon’s presence within it.”
Alaire scowled. “This strengthens my resolve. We shall raid the place at night, arrest everyone suspicious, and collect all evidence we can find.”
Alaire didn’t look too happy about it for some reason though. I guessed she expected casualties with a demon involved.
“You shall have my strength,” Saraseo promised. Unlike Alaire, she didn’t bother hiding her enthusiasm. “The heartbeat quickens.”
“I will treat the wounded, but I will not do well in a fight,” Colmar said. The Alchemist was clearly more interested in studying our powers than going out fighting evil. “How was your day, Robin?”
“The skill harvest was bountiful,” I replied. The nausea was gone, thank the goddess. “How was yours?”
“Fruitful, in a way.” Colmar pointed at a warehouse next to my new home. “We stockpiled the goods here.”
“Couldn’t you suggest another place?” Marika frowned in disgust. “I can smell the stench from here.”
“It’s only temporary,” I replied as I moved to inspect the warehouse myself. As Marika warned, I smelled the contents before I could actually see it: an intense mix of rotting food, animal waste, and other things best left unmentioned. “Very temporary.”
A city as large as Snowdrift produced a large quantity of eclectic waste: dead animals, kitchen scraps, broken potteries, slag from forges, rags, debris, and last but not least, huge piles of human filth. A few were recycled—ashes could help make soap and mortar, animal excrements were used as fertilizer—but most were gathered by street cleaners or dumped in the river nearby. One of my first orders as Lord Protector had been to order all the day’s wastes gathered in one place. A true hill of filth occupied the warehouse and reached all the way to the ceiling.
“I understand the need to make Snowdrift a cleaner place,” Alaire said while pinching her nose. “But shouldn’t we dispose of this filth outside the city’s limits? It will attract rats.”
“This warehouse is as close to the shipyard and forges as possible,” I replied. “One of the four pillars of my plan to renovate Snowdrift includes building infrastructure, such as roads, ships, and houses.”
“I can’t build a house with shit, Robin,” Marika said bluntly.
“I know.” I turned to Colmar, smirked, and unveiled my plan. “Colmar?”
The masked alchemist cracked his fingers. His knucklebones made a strange sound, almost metallic in tone. He had guessed my plan. “Yes?”
“Can you turn this pile of shit…” I waved my hand at the hill of trash before us. “Into a pile of treasure?”
Colmar found the warehouse full of excrement.
He left it paved in marble.
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Next Chapter
Comments
Void Herald
Thing is, heroes rarely get to die of old age; it's why they were chosen to be heroes, they go out looking for troubles ;)
BubblyGhost
Interesting, with the fact that the merchant can buy time I wonder what exactly happened to the last batch of heroes?
Nikolas Janto
Wow that's literally turning shit to gold lol
Mrbuttface
Ha turning shit into useful material.
