Battleforged
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Chapter 412 - Legal Loopholes
🕑 Added 2024-04-12 04:00:03 +0000 UTC“Fuck it. Don’t be so fucking self-conscious. You have to do this!” The husky voice insisted. “Unless you want high-strung kids firing their Mark-I plasma rifles into noncombatants just enjoying a late night out. So man the fuck up and handle it!”
Now that very human speeds were being observed once more, it was easy for the bow-wielding traveler to make out the murmurs and soft voices of late night bikers and veli-riders slipping out of the city to enjoy stargazing in the field of luscious night blossoms giving off the most exotic scents of cardamon, jasmine, and honey, blown by a surprisingly warm breeze that played with a rapidly approaching traveler’s golden curls bouncing against high cheekbones as low-heeled boots clacked against the pristine blacktop road leading right into the city.
The traveler deliberately slowed her pace as she approached a pair of smiling guards who might have been wearing power armor, but at least had the courtesy to raise their face-plates and present pleasant smiles to the grumbling drivers whose velimobiles were checked as they declared their destinations as being either the adjoining fields or the lake nearby.
“A pleasant evening to you, ma’am,” said the second power armored guard courteously enough as he took in her appearance with a growing smile. “Any luck in the hunt?”
The woman solemnly shook her head her head. “A beautiful buck, so majestic that it touched my heart. And when it’s eyes met my own, I knew I couldn’t fire.” She sighed, flashing a gentle smile. “So a truce between us was forged and what was to be a glorious hunt became a pleasant evening under the stars.”
The guard laughed politely. “Regrettable, huntress. Though if you’re still hungry for the hunt and would like a guaranteed dinner… my shift ends in two hours, and I would be more than happy to give you an adventure you won’t soon forget and a night you’ll never regret.”
The woman couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the man’s flirting. “Sadly, this huntress is fit for nothing save a good night’s rest in her wife’s arms. But if you’re anywhere near as good with a bow as you are with your boom stick, perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer. One day.”
The man snorted. “Boom stick.”
The woman smirked, lifting up her golden tresses to reveal her pointed ears. “It is what we call it.”
The man flushed and bowed his head. “Of course. Well, it just so happens that once upon a time I hunted with more than just a plasma rifle. So perhaps I will take you up on that offer one day…”
“Winona.”
“Winona. I’m Godfry. A good night to you, fair lady.”
“And you as well.”
With those words, the young elven huntress was permitted into the city, and although she earned many looks from both increasingly anxious power-armored sentinels and wild-eyed teenagers who shouldn’t have been let anywhere near even T-1 Plasma rifles, not a single one of them was after her head. Though at least a dozen offers, both awkward, endearing, and oddly charming made it clear that her heart was another matter entirely.
Winona took it all in with good grace, having learned far more from her sister than she had ever let on. And with the confidence born of someone who had nothing to fear, she took no offense from even the pushiest of fellows, sensing that it was awkward desperation, loneliness, and young men’s hopes, not malice, that motivated them.
Save for one notable exception.
“You lost, girl?” whispered one voice that sent an uncomfortable twist in her gut when she found herself glaring down a shadowy alleyway, less than two blocks from her destination. “You need some assistance? Maybe I can help you out.”
Winona soon found herself looking into the cold grey eyes of a greasy-looking man wearing leather armor that didn’t completely hide his prison tats, whose hungry gaze made it clear that he was the farthest thing from an awkward goofball with the charm of a desperate puppy.
This was a wolf, eager for the hunt. And if the thug she sensed with the metal truncheon sneaking up behind her was anything to go by, he wasn’t one to take no for an answer.
Winona glared at the would-be predator before her. “You get one chance. I suggest you and your friend leave. Now.”
The man behind her froze for only a second.
“Now!” The grey-eyed man snarled. “Hot-eyed slut like you is gold in the bank, bitch!”
A metal slave collar flashed in the dim light.
And a heartbeat later, the cold grey alley was painted in a shockingly bright patina of crimson.
The stalker dropped his truncheon that clattered on the pavement, stumbling back. “You… you monster! You bit off his— NO!!”
Seconds later, a short brunet wiping the blood off her sensual rosebud lips stepped out of the alley, glaring at the world with her ice-blue eyes. And if her bright blue dress was spattered with crimson, it faded to nothing seconds later. Forgotten just as quickly as the pair of predators whose very existence faded like a fragment of bitter dream with the warm morning sun.
The girl grimaced, taking a glance up at the gibbous moon and hurrying her steps along the quaint picturesque boulevard that could so easy have passed for a European town’s take on a Renaissance fair with a bit of a steampunk flare as bronze cogs and gears channeling free mana for power clashed beautifully with elegant Tudor homes and stately buildings of trade and commerce that in another life would have revealed shabby construction, even desperation, underneath a brittle gloss… yet now the buildings all radiated both expert craftsmanship and genuine care.
The girl kept her walk fast and her gaze hard, rebuffing the occasional hopeful glance with nary a word, stealing a quick glance down a certain street, not needing her multiple social perks and Danger Sense screaming warning to spot multiple ambush points and traps, or to know that her safety was by no means, assured, no matter how well-intentioned the Blue Sentinels she saw guarding a certain pair of grand gates. Because sure as hell, they weren’t making out the glaring Bronze-tier masters of death hidden in the gloom of alleys and rooftops all around.
She sighed, giving a quick shake of her head before heading away from that all too tempting trap, instead making her way for a particular shop that was oddly juxtaposed between catching a tourist’s eye and being quickly passed over by the far more enticing pastry shop that even now filled the air with cinnamon, spice, and joyful delights, or the genuine wand and arcana shop so invitingly painted just a few steps beyond.
No. For all that it was touched by grace and elegance, the building the young woman who now looked nothing like a certain huntress had stopped before looked more a home than any business establishment, easily passed over by anyone, no matter how much they might admire the architecture, the added ambiance it gave the quaint block.
Fortunately, any elegantly dressed lady or well-to-do gentleman wouldn’t look at all out of place giving the door a polite knock.
Though the hour was late and no doubt a few neighbors would be furrowing their tired brows when the knock became more insistent.
Though surprisingly, when she turned the doorknob, it twisted without any resistance at all.
Slowly the girl entered the abode, stepping from foyer to a well-appointed parlor with a pair of stressed leather wingbacks before a crackling fire. The fire popped, light glinting off the crimson eyes and a crystal glass filled with burgundy held by a coolly smiling gentleman wearing a custom fitted suit that the girl recognized from the first time she had seen the man.
The man silently pointed to a second glass filled with drink. “Please, make yourself at comfortable. We have things to discuss.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the handsome blond-haired man who fit his nature to an absolute key. “Great, you’re here!” Said with a sense of profound relief. “Come on. We don’t have time to waste. We have fifteen minutes to take the secret tunnel leading to Master Grim’s inner abode, so let’s get going.”
The young man’s indulgent smile hardened. “I’ve never seen you before in my life. And you’re not going anywhere until I know who you really...” His eyes bulged in surprise when Winona seemed to disappear. A smiling Eric suddenly in her place.
“Good to see you again, old friend.” Eric’s warm grin turned to a pained grimace when Morlekai’s confused look didn’t abate to a hard smile or a warm chuckle. Rather, he peered at Eric as if he was haunted by something, eyes widening, a trembling hand reaching… before he jerked his head in firm negation, taking a fortifying sip of his drink.
“Who are you?”
Eric flashed a sad smile. “Really? You don’t remember me? Not even in your dreams?”
The man before him blanched. “How could you possibly… no.” He shook his head in firm negation. “Before we go even one step forward, I need proof that you’re anyone save an…”
“An underground city you, Alice, Drake and Louie helped elevate from a hoard of disorganized desperate survivors into a fully functioning community. Playing the role of godfather in the most benevolent sense of the word, Louie and Drake helping to build so many of those properties and keep the tunnels safe. Then you met a new bright-eyed and pretty fugly looking recruit who had enough scars that no one would ever forget his run-in with the orc barbecue pits… remember?” Eric’s voice took a strange intensity, all the more so when he saw the growing look of uncertainty in Morlekai’s eyes.
“Do you remember, Morlekai? What you called that scarred well-intentioned kid… in your dreams at least? Dreams that included taking out massive lizards, a hoard of undead… even shutting down a portal that would have resulted in an actual lich turning Junk Town into a night of the living dead more awful than any movie. Before we were all betrayed in the end. You really don’t remember?”
The man licked uncertain lips, revealing a flash of that which he didn’t bother hiding. “Tell me.”
Eric smiled. “Boy scout. You called me boy scout, once upon a time. Before we were betrayed by the very mayor we had sacrificed so much for the sake of the city we allowed him to run. In return for a set of codes and a promise… a promise he thought selling us out to the CFA would assure that he never had to pay.”
Morlekai’s eyes widened. “The heist. The heist I dreamed of!”
Eric nodded. “Central Bank of Gilton. Where the Black Book Federal repository had been.”
The man gazed at Eric with an odd sort of longing, before giving a rueful chuckle. “Yet I see no such fortune now… and those dreams were of a Freetown far more archaic and chaotic than this one happens to be.”
“Yet the gold is real,” Eric dared to whisper, pulling out a near 25 pound brick of solid gold.
Morlekai’s eyes bulged. Eric grinned.
“The heist was real, old friend. Real in a timeline so close to this one that almost everyone directly involved remembers the differences, just a dream away. A dream so many forget. For what does it matter? Causality is retroactively what it always had to be for the now to be the now that is… even if not what it always once was.”
Morlekai swallowed. “But you. A boy far handsomer than I recall. Yet… I can taste it. Which means that you forded the rivers of dream. Another reality manifest.”
Eric shrugged. “Honestly, who can say? Did I and a select handful actually hop to an alternate reality, or did reality forge itself around us? Who knows. Who cares? All that matters, old friend, is that in about ten minutes the goblins will be able use twisted contractual loopholes to seize Freetown for themselves. Utterly and completely. All assets in their entirety… and if the shudder your giving me is anything to go by, you know exactly what that means. Even if it’s only in your dreams.”
Morlekai flinched, unable to hide his dismay. “A night of such horror… men possessed by monstrosities. Thousands damned to an actual hell… because those goblins…”
“Yup. Blood of an actual demon flows through their veins. So let’s play heroes one more time, Morlekai. Shall we?”
Morlekai swallowed. “I believe you,” he whispered, eyes widening as if surprised by his own words. “I’ve just notified grandfather. You’ve been given permission to enter, and you are to proceed with all haste. Come, let me show you to—”
He blinked in surprise, realizing he was alone, with nothing but the memory of that strikingly beautiful boy’s smile. A youth he felt such an odd kinship towards, even if he thought, for some reason, that he should be covered in far more scars.
***
“You’re too late, Caliban!” Wheezed a decrepit shaman wearing a painfully tacky robe radiating both goblinoid crimson arts and shockingly bad taste. He sneered at the cleanly dressed and cool-eyed Caliban accompanied only only by a quartet of elite Bronze-tier Sylvan mercenaries also wearing clean, crisp, Blue-corp uniforms. The goblin pounded his gnarled staff upon the floor tiles in eerie unison with the other pair of goblin shamans whose staves weren’t quite so knobbly or twisted, their robes not nearly as garishly decorated, yet their malice was a trifecta of contempt, gloating, and greed.
Three goblin barristers sitting besides them stretched their simpering smiles in equal images of a Barrister’s greed, folding their arms in smug satisfaction, all three wearing puce-toned plaid suits and tweed hats that elevated seedy, greasy lawyer to an art form, all three knocking their knuckles against Lord Grim’s fine oak conference table.
“Less than seven minutes before midnight, elf,” declared the midmost Barrister, consulting his golden pocket watch whose ticking second hand sounded like a starved elf’s death-rattle. The Barrister’s sneer was unmistakable as he pointed to both contract and an admittedly impressive pair of briefcases filled with golden coins and bars of bullion both. “And I’m afraid a hundred and fifty three million credits worth of gold does NOT honor the terms of our contract!”
This he said before turning away from Caliban to flash a wide shit-eating grin for the swirling orb attached to a bone shaft being held by one of the three quiet assistants in back that seemed to fade into the near non-existent gloom of Lord Grim’s surprisingly well-lit study, numerous book cases filled with leather-bound treasures plainly visible lining all the walls, interspersed with exquisitely rendered portraits and busts of countless ancestors, and only a fool would think those three figures the eyes wanted to skim right over were anything other than a trio of Bronze-tier killers assigned to record these proceedings to masters unknown.
Caliban, of course, was no fool.
He flashed both chief Shaman and Barrister a tight-lipped smile. “We still have seven minutes.”
“Six minutes and fifty five seconds!” Screamed the leftmost shaman.
“And as the contract before us plainly states, we need only initiate complete payment by the stroke of midnight. And this 153,967,000 credits that you felt the need to round down does indeed fulfill the terms of our contract.”
For some reason these words caused all three Barrister’s expressions to light up with glee. “Wrong, you inconceivably stupid peacock of an elf! You must initiate complete and TOTAL payment by the midnight hour! Should you lack immediate access TO the full TWO BILLION CREDITS, it’s as if you paid us nothing at all! In fact, if you’ll look at clause 450 of Subsection Zz, you’ll see that we’re entitled to an immediate penalty fee equivalent to WHATEVER amount of capital that’s in Blue Corp possession at the time of turnover. And that, you obnoxious prick of an elf, includes every COIN on your person, every gold crown and bar on this table… and best of all, it includes EVERY WARM BODY within Freetown!”
The middle Barrister’s eyes lit up with undisguised glee at the look of barely contained outrage upon Caliban’s features.
“That’s right, FOOL! We will now exercise our LEGAL RIGHT to assume possession over the ENTIRITY of FREETOWN! For this contract gives us FULL control over every physical object of worth, every warm body that invoked forfeiture in using OUR treasures, and every last SOUL that DARED to be reborn within OUR territory!” He squealed with twisted glee. “Fools thought they could escape our master’s soul forges?” A wide wicked grin flashed across the Barrister’s features. “Those precious souls were ALWAYS ours and will always BE ours, you filthy wretch. And nothing you or any other fool daring to use forbidden artifacts will change that!”
“It mean’s no such thing, cur!” Caliban roared, blood pounding, suddenly radiating a killing aura that had all six Shamans and Barristers blanching, as the trio of shadowy killers caused a certain elven prince’s interface to scream warning.
The quartet of guardians surrounding Caliban instantly moved into possession, all of them giving off a crackling thrum as a force-field of Deep Bronze strength suddenly surrounded the prince.
Caliban Caerulus glared his killing hate at the sneering pack of goblin serpents before him, already knowing what his next move had to be. “Should you dare to threaten or harm a SINGLE citizen of Blue Corp holdings without due process and free exit rights where all dissatisfied citizens, ALL of whom are debt free, may leave unimpeded as even this contract insists upon, then you will have effectively declared war on Blue Federation, and you may rest assured that we will respond in kind!”
The elder Shaman’s laughter only grew with twisted mirth. “Stupid fool. Do you not understand yet? You LOST, as your kind ALWAYS will! The instant we obtain possession of this city, each and EVERY fool who dared to set foot within OUR domain will CEASE To be considered as ANYTHING but flesh chattel! They are our PROPERTY, fool! Not citizens at all! But CHATTEL to use as we desire!”
All six seated goblins turned to the swirling orb being held by the centralmost assassin as the air filled with laughter so cold that Caliban’s guts twisted with dismay. A tiny shrieking corner of his mind realizing that he recognized that voice.
“No. It was a dream. A nightmare! Impossible.”
“Caliban Caerulus. The hidden heir. Or should I say… former heir? Ah. How tragic, the political machinations of a doomed, desperate faction. For I’m afraid you’re no longer the heir, foolish elf. Someone far more suited to the role has been elected to take your pace.”
And just when Caliban thought the moment couldn’t get any worse, the air filled with warm bonhomie laughter that might have been free of a Silver-tier demon’s malice, but was, in its own way, even more vile.
“Caliban! How are you, my dear distant cousin? Arlen Ort here. I’m afraid I don’t have too much time to chat or spend on fringe-world disputes, doing my best to help the family business, but don’t worry. I promised to keep an eye on our Terran operations and make sure our name always shined with integrity and promise! Oh, I know it can get hairy dealing with the natives, but Uncle Meadow wanted to make absolutely sure it was understood that in absolutely no circumstances were any contracts to be breached for any reason. Ha ha, I’m sure you knew that already. And of course, my primary reason for reaching out to you, per Meadow’s insistence, was to let you knew that we were all here for you! Rooting for your economic triumph! If there is any way at all that we can help, do let us know! If only our help could be more concrete, I know. Sorry about those unfortunate embargoes! We’re doing ALL that we can to prove ourselves worthy of unlimited trade rights just like before our ancient founder decided to double our assets in a single night, all those centuries ago. Ha ha! And of course, should the worst come to worst, you need only give the signal and Meadow will personally fly his ship in System to pick you and your family up. Because your safety and wellbeing are FAR more important than you economic success! Take care, cousin. I hope this message gets to you safely! I certainly paid a pretty penny to see that it does! - Arlen out.”
Caliban’s fists squeezed with helpless fury while the air rang with the mocking laughter of conniving goblins and the cold Malice of an ancient monster who had made it shockingly clear just how utterly fucked Freetown was.
“Do I detect an elfin prince’s tears? How quaint. How wonderful! I do believe they go for quite a tidy some of gold in the right markets. Tell me, Caliban Caerulus, soon to be permanently replaced by far more suitable… moldable pawns, do you think you can cry a bucket of tears before the night is out?”
Mocking laughter filled the room. “That’s right, my dear prince. I will happily HONOR the terms of our contract. For you have indeed initiated payment in full. So take all the time you need to cough up every last tear you can manage to—”
Malice’s mocking words and the bitter sobs of a prince were cut off when the force warded door behind Caliban was torn right off its hinges, to reveal a manically smiling redhead gazing at the tableau with guileless green eyes that saw absolutely everything. “Did someone say we had ALL NIGHT to make that payment in full? FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!”
Eric smirked as he sensed multiple goblin assassins zeroing in on his form as he strode into the room, a brooding and furious looking Lord Grim right behind him. The room filled with words that grated against everyone’s skull as the goblins shrieked about the use of forbidden magics.
“WHO DARED TO DENY ME ACCESS TO MY OWN STUDY?”
“No! That door was sealed! No Terran trash should have been able to enter!” Sobbed the smallest of the shaman before being smacked off his seat by the largest.
“Say nothing, you IDIOT!”
Eric winked. “Ernest ‘Edgelord’ Slaughter at my own service. Certainly not yours, you soul-stealing goblin asswipes. Ha ha! And you must be Calibro! Am I right?” Eric winked at a stunned looking Caliban, countenance a study in fury, stunned-disbelief, and desperate hope.
“So, Calibro, my question for you is, can I make a TWO POINT FOUR BILLION CREDIT deposit of GOLD BULLION into my BLUE CORP account right this fucking second?”
For long moments the goblins stared at Eric in speechless disbelief as he snapped his fingers and a pair of powerfully built, almost hulking men wheeled in a massive dolly cart with a silk covered prize at its center.
Drake wiped his face, giving Eric a rueful chuckle. “Now that’s a serious workout Er… Ernest. Ha ha! And look at all our guests. Eyes pretty much popping out of their heads! Now hold on. Me and Louie will get the other cart.”
Eric turned and winked, dipping his tricorn hat that fit his edgelord persona so very well, frock coat completely hiding his crimson mail. “I’ll bet you guys are fucking BREATHLESS with anticipation. Am I right? Does this cat hold an absolute fucking FORTUNE underneath this silk tarp, or is it all just a bluff?”
“THIS FARCE ENDS NOW!” Screamed the voice in the globe, several elves and all the goblins wincing as blood poured out their ears.
Caliban’s hard-fought composure twisted into a fierce glare. “That constitutes an assault, Sirrah! For that alone I reserve the right to demand recompense… or satisfaction… once our affairs are in order here.”
But the voice in the orb wasn’t listening.
“Who dares to interfere? Who is this pustulent jackanapes of a Terran monkey that would dare intrude in the final minutes of the final hour?”
Ernest winked, gazing at Grim before raising his finger. “Hold that thought, gentlemen! I do believe the other half of our bluff, is it? Ha Ha. Has arrived!”
Drake gave a sweaty chuckle when he and Louie finished setting up the other dolly. “You sure you’re going to be okay?” Drake asked, giving Eric a pointed look as countless Bronze-tier death glares tried to pin him and Louie. “Even I can feel the tension in this room,” he said with a chuckle.
Louie grabbed his friend’s arm. “Come on, Drake. Master’s making it clear that it’s time for us to leave.”
Eric bowed his head in gratitude, giving them both a high five. “Thanks, buds. When time permits, I’m making it up to you, and the party will be absolutely legendary!”
Drake chuckled. “Same old boy scout,” he quipped, earning a glare from Louie, but it was okay, since no one outside a certain click in a past that never was would even know who he was referring to.
Eric winked. “Damn right, save for the super-leet threads. Later, bros!”
He then spun around, the tail coat of his frock coat lifting in the air as he gave the entire audience his widest shit-eating grin. “So, who wants to call my ‘bluff?’ Ha ha! I’ll bet you two hundred million in gold that I DO have 2 billion gold on me right now. Or you guys can concede and fold and leave RIGHT NOW… and we’ll let you walk away with the charter for a certain goblin bank which we’ll sell for EXACTLY two billion gold. So the books are clean and we sign off the contract as honored, without any extra gold signed away at all. Isn’t that right, Calibro?”
Calibro’s eyes widened with surprise and a momentary flash of fury.
C – What the hell are you doing?
ES – What does it look like? I’m bluffing THESE ABSOLUTE FUCKERS! For an extra 200mil. My gold, Calibro. MINE. :/ Capiche?
The air erupted with laughter. “This last second FOOL seeks to bluff us out of our most dear prize. The very city and the tens of thousands of souls that will go so far to securing our old forges and fortunes. HA! As if we would be cowed out of our fortunes!” The orb was dead silent even as the middle barrister flashed Eric a cold smile. “This wager is in your name, yes?”
Eric winked. “Ernest ‘Edgelord’ Slaughter. Just like it says on the fucking world-leader board, asshole.”
The goblins shamans’ eyes widened, glaring their displeasure.
"He's the necromancer we must take off the board before all others!" One hissed in an archaic goblin dialect that a cynically smiling Eric understood perfectly.
He smirked and gave them all the finger.
“Well, assholes, you want to take my wager? OR you want to save yourself the utter humiliation of finding that the fortune is here? Because I promise you this, if you don’t fold, you will NOT get that bank charter, no matter how much you fucking beg, because we won’t sell it to you for ANYTHING!” Eric chuckled coldly. “Hell you won’t even get an account at this bank. So feel free to walk through a hot red territory with a dragon’s hoard of gold on you, ha ha, and good luck making it to New York alive!”
One of the shaman’s eyes widened in dismay. “He knows!” He squeeled.
The head shaman smacked this lesser off his chair as well.
“Of course he knows. New York is our largest bastion, fool!” He then turned to Eric, lips curled in a snarl, eyes glittering with malice. “I accept your bluff, stupid boy. And I know damn well that you can't pay! So by goblin codicil and law, your soul will be MINE! Your undead puppet minions will now dancing to Bloodtear Syndicate's strings for all time, fool! Ha!”
Ernest blinked, biting his lip. “Um… are you sure? That has to be all of you…”
The elder jerked his head. “OF course it does! On behalf of the Bloodtear Syndicate faction, we accept Earnest ‘Edgelord’ Slaughter’s wager!” His lips curled in a twisted smile as he gazed at the orb. “What’s the matter, you gobsmacked fool? Nothing witty to say now? HA! You can’t back down, prevaricate or deny it! You offered, WE ACCEPTED! Our wager is now iron-clad!” He began to laugh.
Ernest lowered his head and began to shiver when Caliban gave him a concerned look.
“Ernest. What’s wrong?”
“Fool!” The elder shaman cackled. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong! He has no gold!”
Caliban glared back at the shaman. “And how could you possibly know that when—”
The shaman snarled, cutting through Caliban’s words. “The same way I know the worth of the gold you present before us, fool. I can taste it. I can SMELL it!” He poked his hairy, wart-covered probuscus. “I know damn well the worth of that most precious, PRICELESS PRIZE! It’s beyond ANY Arcane arts to hi—”
His words cut off in a dismayed peep when Ernest’s hangdog expression curled into a mocking smile he could feel starting to stretch impossibly wide.
Gazing at the startled countenances of so many enemies and suddenly feeling so very
HUNGRY.
The goblin blanched. “What’s wrong with your face… NO! Impossible!”
Eric quickly snapped out of his dark glee, knowing that now was NOT the time to reveal his ties (no, hell no!) to the monster on the other side of that still-glowing orb. Instead he snapped off both silk sheets flipping both in his ES Space.
The goblins gazed in ear-wilting dismay at the sight of two massive stacks of gold bricks on the modified two-person bone dolly carts.
“No. Impossible!” The shaman whispered, the middle Barrister screaming foul play. “It was a trick! A dirty stinking Sylvan trick! You used a double bluff, you bastard, trying to goad us out of a city for a bank that is already ours!”
Eric flashed a chill smile. “I’m sorry. You own a bank, you say?” He turned towards Caliban, flashing a positively wicked smile. “Do these gentlemen own any such thing?”
Caliban laughed coldly. “The gold brick count alone, with a worth of well over 2.4 Billion, would indicate most definitely not… young Ernest. And if you would be so good as to hand me your card? I shall make sure you receive full credit for your deposit. Thank you again for doing business with the Terran Chapter of Blue Corp Bank.”
“No! Impossible!” Screamed the decrepit shaman even as the three Barristers immediately surrounded Eric with desperate smiles. “Don’t be so hasty, young sir. Invest with us. With us! We can guarantee you a forty percent return on your capital, per anum!”
Eric blinked at that, a playful smile coming to his lips. “Wow, that would be something, wouldn’t it? 960 Million coming to me every year, on my 2.4 Billion. Of wait. That’s 1.04 Billion on my 2.6 Billion, since you chaps already owe me an additional two hundred million yourselves, am I right? Ha ha!”
“Yes, of course, of course you are right!” The older Barrister oozed an incredibly oily smile, pulling out a ready-made scroll writhing with tortured scream, tormented spirits, and nightmare loopholes. “Now let us ignore this stuck up elf and treat you to the life of eternal indulgence that you so richly deserve! If you would sign right here…”
Eric snorted and stepped back, refusing even to touch the greasy lawyer wreaking of corruption and torment. “Sure. And I’ll bet the second I sell out this city and it falls into Goblin hands, I’m instantly relegated to Chump Chattel instead of Champion, and you’ll claim possession of the very account and funds you claim you’ll pay me and my soul… as if there’s a chance in hell I’ll let you claim any of that.”
“Oh nooz! He sees right through us!” Sobbed the shortest barrister, earning a snarl and glare from the larger, who had the gall to turn back to a coldly smiling Eric.
“Oh, so clever you are! So clever. That was a mere oversight. A mere oversight! We’d never even DREAM of doing such to one of our VIPs. Come now. We can correct this unfortunate line in Section 357, paragraph C right now! Just give me a drop of your blood, and I’ll make the correction myself! Come, come, no need to be shy. Let’s assure you that cool billion every year in interest for your exquisite acumen!”
But Eric had already turned away, locking eyes with Caliban as the air positively thrummed with wild spicy magic.
Eric’s gut clenched, ready for absolutely any unexpected twist that the now panicked goblins, screaming and hollering amongst themselves, might throw his way.
Oddly, they seemed as alarmed as him.
Caliban’s measuring gaze became a fierce smile, bowing his head at Eric as one ally to another.
One prince to another.
“If you would sign right here?”
“Are my initials enough?”
Caliban’s eyes widened when Eric pricked his finger with the quill that Lord Grim had already handed him, the blood radiating a potency that immediately grabbed the trio of shamans’ attention.
“That’s what I smelled. Blood magic. That abomination used blood magic to hide his gold! On the cloth… it must be! Crimson sigils like those orc shamans use to hide their cannons... This bastard dared to borrow our allies’ arts!”
“Foul! We cry foul!… We demand that you reveal to us those silk cloths at once!” Shrieked the barristers in odd unison.
Eric, having already brushed his ears, tuned out their suspicions. The growing urgency of their demands. He tuned everything out as he calmly signed the document that Caliban had prepared for him beforehand, refusing even to heed the second sharp wave of spicy magic, or the sudden shock-wave of power that knocked near everyone off their feet. Even the deadly sibilant whisper he just KNEW was emanating from that vile orb, forked tongue inviting any listening fool along a path of twisted logic and despair that would demand absolute compliance… he remained utterly deaf to.
Ears plugged with blood infused with the essence of Dominion, for he had learned his mother’s lessons all too well.
Instead of allowing himself to be so easily distracted, he finished signing with a flourish, bowing his head as he presented the document he had checked once, because he was no fool, and only once, because he trusted Caliban, and then it was done.
“Your contribution to our bank has been signed and notarized. Congratulations, Ernest ‘Edgelord’ Slaughter. Your net worth in our bank is now 2.4 Billion credits.” He turned to the goblins present, waving his hand at the massive pile of gold bullion bricks that was exactly 2 billion credits worth of gold. Plus a handful of golden coins, just to make sure that there would be absolutely no question that their enemies had been paid in full.
“Paid in full. Witnessed by co-signed and System. We are done here.”
The trio of barrister’s blanched, Eric reading their lips as he sensed the sheer screaming malice coming from the rapidly crumbling orb.
“No. It’s impossible! We refuse to sign this!” The central lawyer snarled, before his eyes widened in terror, now shrieking like a man who had just been dunked into a vat of soul-forge steel. Eric’s eyes widened at the sight of multiple plaid pockets bursting into flames, shimmering glossy contracts erupting in a furious blaze as countless shrieking souls swirled around the now screeching barrister before shoving themselves down his throat.
Chapter 413 - Shark-toothed Negotiations
Comments
David Doughty
H
Hurley Stalnaker
Thank you for the additional chapters! I imagine I read the next book. Lol. I did enjoy your story. P.S. if you ever need a proof reader, let me know. So many keyboard errors could be fixed. 😉
Daniel
I'm starting to like the goblins better than the protagonists. The instant Eric does anything at all, they all file motions and complaints and whatever from whatever place they might be at whatever hour it is. Meanwhile, the protagonists just HAVE to reminisce and navel gaze and waste time in suspicion-filled exchanges even if it means losing everything to the evil they are not suspicious of, but absolutely sure of.
Antony Haynes
Please stop using the goblin lawfare barristers. Please take Freetown out of play and make it "safe" from the goblin shenanigans. Please let Eric explore new areas and go to places he hasn't already been.
KatC
Chocked on there own greed, fitting🤣
A Will
Burn 🔥
