ARC 6-Winter War-09
It may be me but there’s tension in the air as Simone clears his throat. There’s no need for them to be worried. Bearskin and Cordy were cordial and negotiations happened without a hitch. Kimbleford practically begged for a beating, threatening Howie and ignoring my many warnings, but all he lost was a tooth. A good healer can have that sorted in half an hour, maybe less.
“Next we will address the requests of One For All.” He pauses to look at Merven. He looks…exasperated? “Mr. Howie, I assume the price remains the same for your drinks?”
The brewer waves him off.
“Very well. To the more…unique request. First, One For All requests that Mr. Howie allows one of their alchemists to verify the ingredients used in his brews and the methods used to prepare them.”
The brewer sputters in anger and I don’t blame him. “You—you’re worse than that idiot! Verify my ingredients and methods?! You’re trying to rob me!”
“Ah, you’re misunderstanding.” The warrior once again rises, his easygoing smile replaced by a serious countenance I wouldn’t have guessed him capable of. “These potions of yours—”
“Spirit damn it, they’re not potions!”
“Ah, apologies. These, er, drinks of yours are unlike anything else in the city and that’s saying a lot in Quest. More importantly, you’re not human. Not to doubt you but can you say, without a doubt, that nothing you use is harmful if drunken in large quantities over several weeks? Like we are preparing to do?”
Howie falters. “My drinks aren’t dangerous—”
“Are you sure?” the warrior presses. “Without a doubt?”
“…well, nothing is entirely safe. Anything can be dangerous with the right dose. This is a trick.”
“You have a point. What we are looking for are ingredients that are known to be harmful to humans, which you may not have considered seeing as, well, you aren’t. Human, that is.”
“Write me a list!”
Merven groans, scratching at the back of his head. “Thing is, the alchemists don’t like sharing information.”
“They’re members of your guild, aren’t they? Make them do it.”
“That’s not how One For All works. Look, someone has to personally do the checking. There are dozens of plants that are dangerous on their own, dozens more that are dangerous when paired with other common potion ingredients—”
“They’re. Not. Potions!”
“—and dozens more that become dangerous when prepared in certain ways. If we can’t verify the safety of your potions, then there is no way we can buy from you. While no one can rival the potency of your wares, safety must come first.”
“Then don’t buy them, you—”
“Howie.” I cut him off with a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a negotiation.” I turn my attention back to Merven. “I understand your position but be realistic. He has valid reasons to be concerned about your intentions.”
The warrior frowns. “One For All is not a guild of thieves.”
“Sure, sure. No one’s a thief until they’re standing in front of an unguarded chest stuffed with someone’s fortune.”
“Wait a—”
“You said it yourself. Howie’s stuff is better than anything else on the market. Don’t bother trying to convince us that the guilds don’t want his secrets. Knowing the ingredients he uses and how he prepares them is one step away from having the actual recipe.”
Merven’s frown transforms into a scowl. “That doesn’t change our request. The guild won’t budge. You’re going to have to trust us.”
“We could…or we can settle this with gold. You want his recipes? Pay for them. How much do you think one of them is worth? Let’s say Inferno, that’s the most necessary.”
That gets the green man going. His ears give a little twitch as his lips turn up in a nasty smile. “For an authentic Twilight recipe? Shall we say…three thousand gold crowns?”
“Three thousand!” Merven bellows.
“And of course, my cut of the profits once you start selling it yourselves. You’re not fooling me.”
“That’s…” The warrior swallows his first response. It was probably unkind. “The guild can’t afford that price.”
“Really? The number one ranked guild can’t afford that measly sum?”
“Measly? Lady, I don’t know what world you live in that three thousand gold crowns is a measly sum but it’s not ours. Be reasonable.”
“We are being reasonable.” I scoff. “You ask for something highly unreasonable and incredibly suspicious but I stop Howie from denouncing you as thieves and offer you a compromise. Is it our fault you’re poor?”
I hold back a snicker as he frowns. “So we’re all reading from the same record, Howie isn’t offering his goods out of the kindness of his heart. Profit. Gold. If you can’t provide them, he can’t provide his wares.”
“Aaagh, fine!” Merven lets out an explosive breath and drops into his seat. “If that’s how you want it, that’s how it is. One For All retracts their requests.” His companion puts a hand on his shoulder as he grumbles to himself.
“So noted. One For All renounces their stake in this agreement. Any future agreement they make will not be backed by the temporary alliance formed for the campaign to the Bleak Peaks, of which includes the Torchbearers, the Steelskins, the Seventh Sons, and the Shadow Wolves.”
Saints, this man loves the sound of his own voice.
“Do not expect us to share, Merven,” Bearskin huffs.
“I won’t, Bear. Saints, we’ve got plenty of potions to keep fighters warm. For a sight less than three thousand gold too.”
“Peasants will be peasants,” Kimbleford mocks, holding out his mug to be refilled by his manservant. I hope it’s helping with the pain.
“We continue to the final set of requests from the Shadow Wolf guild.” His voice remains impassive despite speaking of his own guild. “The same agreement for the drinks as previously stated. Our additional request lies with this.”
From his pocket, he pulls out a small vial filled with a clear liquid. He hands it to the brewer. “We will give you the details of this potion and the ingredients used. We ask that you replicate its effects. Preferably before the end of the campaign.”
“Why is it that though I only agreed to provide liquor, you bastards keep asking me to do other things?”
“My superiors thought we should try our luck while you were in the mood to cooperate.”
“Well, at least this sounds interesting.” He pulls the stopper of the vial with his teeth and give the potion a sniff. “Yeah, very interesting. But don’t get any ideas about me working for you.”
“Should you prove successful, we will discuss the selling of the recipe.”
Howie pockets the vial. “That it? We done here?”
“Indeed.” Simone grabs the last paper in the stack he’s carrying and places it on top. A little craning of my neck reveals it to be blank. It doesn’t make sense until he pulls another vial from his pocket, this one larger and made of brown glass.
The consul pulls the stopper free. A thin stream of dark liquid rises from the bottle as his eyes glow. I watch with growing interest as the, presumably, ink rapidly writes elegant letters.
How is he doing that? Ink isn’t water.
[There are two ways I can think of,] Geneva says into my mind, forgotten in the corner she stands in. [If the ink is close enough to water and they keep their variables vague, one can simply brute force it’s manipulation. Highly ineffective when manipulating large quantities but for the meagre amount he is using, I imagine the extra expenditure is tolerable.
[The second option is that he is using a very advanced spell. The water affinity can manipulate all liquids, not simply water.]
Eh? Then why is it called the water affinity?
[The closer the liquid is to pure water, the less mana it takes to manipulate it. Also, the water affinity can only create pure water.]
The consul finishes writing and extends the contract to Howie. “If the terms are agreeable, I will sign your name and ask you to place a blood print beside it.”
“Blood?” I ask.
“Signatures can be faked. Blood cannot.”
[By amateurs.]
Howie squints as he stares at the contract, mumbling to himself.
[I believe you should intervene, my summoner.]
Hm? Something wrong?
[The halfling is struggling to understand the contract.]
Howie can’t read?! But he speaks fine!
[Two separate skills. He has a rudimentary understanding, enough to get by in simple affairs. However, this consul has deliberately used uncommon words and complex sentences to confuse the unaware. It is proving very effective.]
Saints, merchants. When he says his job is to facilitate negotiations between the guilds and third parties, he means they call him when they want to screw someone over.
[It is natural to seek the most benefit, even to the detriment of others.]
Howie is finally willing to work with them. You would think they’d have the sense to generate some goodwill rather than compound his distrust of them.
[Perhaps they think his distrust is too big a hurdle to move past. He has been rejecting them for years. Powerful people do not take denial well.]
“Let me see.”
“Oi, I was reading that!” Despite snapping at me, Howie surrenders the contract easily and his shoulders sag with relief. Mm, this wasn’t written with clarity in mind. The whole first paragraph is spent naming the involved parties in exhaustive detail, the letters half the size of my smallest fingernail so it all can fit on one page.
“This is stupid.” I throw the contract at Simone, his neutral expression cracking a little as he scrambles to catch it. “I’m not going to decipher that nonsense. Redo it and make it clear.”
“I assure you, nothing is nonsense. Everything must be clearly defined so there can be no misunderstandings and no one can go against their word.”
“There won’t be a misunderstanding if you write a clear contract instead of a book. Besides, Howie doesn’t need a piece of paper to make sure everyone keeps their word. That’s what I’m for.”
Kimbleford laughs. “I admit you’re strong but do you think you can bring judgment on five of the strongest guilds in Quest? Hahaha.”
“Yes.”
The prompt answer and the surety behind it cuts his laughter off. “Hey. A noble must have their pride but one must recognize when it becomes unseemly arrogance.”
As if you’re one to talk.
“You are wrong when you say five,” Bearskin says. “The Steelskins will not go against their word.”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t include my guild as well,” Cordy follows. “The young lady can make such statements as she pleases as there should never be a time where she needs prove them. We are all honorable men, are we not?”
“You make it sound like we’re trying to bully her,” Merven mutters.
If they’re smart, they’ll never find out exactly how capable I am of following through on my threat. “You want the contract signed, rewrite it.”
“You are not the owner of this establishment.” He looks to Howie. “This is perfectly good contract and I am not going to strain my core because your adviser doesn’t like its appearance. I suggest you control her so we can finish tonight’s business.”
Howie’s the one struggling with the contract. As if he’s going to pass up a perfect excuse to get rid of it.
The brewer’s lips twist into a sneer as he looks down his nose at the other man. “Hah? She’s my adviser. What kind of idiot doesn’t listen to the adviser he hires? Rewrite it.”
“Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to,” I add.
“…it is simply a bother.” Simone rolls up the contract and stuffs it in a pocket.
“I don’t know why you were making such a fuss. You even have more paper,” I say as he starts another contract.
“Being prepared for inconveniences does not mean I welcome them.” He finishes as quickly as before and hands it to me. “For your perusal.”
Mm, much better. No more thick paragraphs with tiny letters and pointless language. I pass it to Howie. “Look it over.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to do business,” the brewer huffs as he takes the contract. Once again, his eyes narrow but, from Geneva’s silence, I assume he’s no longer having trouble. “Alright, we—hey, wait.”
He scowls as he turns the contract around. “What the noon is this? I told you Sanity needs to be priced at five gold a barrel but this says a gold a barrel for two of you bastards!”
“You specified five gold for the Torchbearers alone.”
“It should have been obvious the same applied to the rest. You’re intentionally trying to screw me over!”
“Nothing is obvious in business. I wrote the contract according to your words. However, nothing has been signed. A simple fix.”
“So now you have no problem with rewriting it,” I tease. “And look, more blank paper. Why, it’s almost as if you foresaw you’d need to rewrite the contract multiple times. Are you…exceptionally clumsy?”
“Despicable,” scoffs Alana so quietly, I’m sure I’m the only one who hears.
Simone frowns. “I would ask you not to make accusations against my character.”
“Well, you’ve made two mistakes, ones that could have been easily avoided. I think clumsy is the nicest word for it.”
“Do I search this one for tricks too?” Howie holds the new contract between two fingers with a deep frown, as if holding particularly odorous trash. Suddenly, he growls, rather pathetically, and tosses it away.
“Agghhh! I may be a mutt and a runt but I’m a twilighter too! You gob shits aren’t going to walk all over me! Oi, Lou.”
I hum in acknowledgment as I watch his large nose flare with his rising anger.
“What would the dusky have done if they tried to cheat her?”
“You know.” Someone trying to cheat Kierra? Forget ink. The next contract, if she didn’t outright kill them, would be written in the offender’s blood.
“Yeah. I also know what my mothers would do.” He squares his shoulders and raises his chin. “All you bastards, get out of my bar!”
ARC 6-Winter War-09
It may be me but there’s tension in the air as Simone clears his throat. There’s no need for them to be worried. Bearskin and Cordy were cordial and negotiations happened without a hitch. Kimbleford practically begged for a beating, threatening Howie and ignoring my many warnings, but all he lost was a tooth. A good healer can have that sorted in half an hour, maybe less.
“Next we will address the requests of One For All.” He pauses to look at Merven. He looks…exasperated? “Mr. Howie, I assume the price remains the same for your drinks?”
The brewer waves him off.
“Very well. To the more…unique request. First, One For All requests that Mr. Howie allows one of their alchemists to verify the ingredients used in his brews and the methods used to prepare them.”
The brewer sputters in anger and I don’t blame him. “You—you’re worse than that idiot! Verify my ingredients and methods?! You’re trying to rob me!”
“Ah, you’re misunderstanding.” The warrior once again rises, his easygoing smile replaced by a serious countenance I wouldn’t have guessed him capable of. “These potions of yours—”
“Spirit damn it, they’re not potions!”
“Ah, apologies. These, er, drinks of yours are unlike anything else in the city and that’s saying a lot in Quest. More importantly, you’re not human. Not to doubt you but can you say, without a doubt, that nothing you use is harmful if drunken in large quantities over several weeks? Like we are preparing to do?”
Howie falters. “My drinks aren’t dangerous—”
“Are you sure?” the warrior presses. “Without a doubt?”
“…well, nothing is entirely safe. Anything can be dangerous with the right dose. This is a trick.”
“You have a point. What we are looking for are ingredients that are known to be harmful to humans, which you may not have considered seeing as, well, you aren’t. Human, that is.”
“Write me a list!”
Merven groans, scratching at the back of his head. “Thing is, the alchemists don’t like sharing information.”
“They’re members of your guild, aren’t they? Make them do it.”
“That’s not how One For All works. Look, someone has to personally do the checking. There are dozens of plants that are dangerous on their own, dozens more that are dangerous when paired with other common potion ingredients—”
“They’re. Not. Potions!”
“—and dozens more that become dangerous when prepared in certain ways. If we can’t verify the safety of your potions, then there is no way we can buy from you. While no one can rival the potency of your wares, safety must come first.”
“Then don’t buy them, you—”
“Howie.” I cut him off with a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a negotiation.” I turn my attention back to Merven. “I understand your position but be realistic. He has valid reasons to be concerned about your intentions.”
The warrior frowns. “One For All is not a guild of thieves.”
“Sure, sure. No one’s a thief until they’re standing in front of an unguarded chest stuffed with someone’s fortune.”
“Wait a—”
“You said it yourself. Howie’s stuff is better than anything else on the market. Don’t bother trying to convince us that the guilds don’t want his secrets. Knowing the ingredients he uses and how he prepares them is one step away from having the actual recipe.”
Merven’s frown transforms into a scowl. “That doesn’t change our request. The guild won’t budge. You’re going to have to trust us.”
“We could…or we can settle this with gold. You want his recipes? Pay for them. How much do you think one of them is worth? Let’s say Inferno, that’s the most necessary.”
That gets the green man going. His ears give a little twitch as his lips turn up in a nasty smile. “For an authentic Twilight recipe? Shall we say…three thousand gold crowns?”
“Three thousand!” Merven bellows.
“And of course, my cut of the profits once you start selling it yourselves. You’re not fooling me.”
“That’s…” The warrior swallows his first response. It was probably unkind. “The guild can’t afford that price.”
“Really? The number one ranked guild can’t afford that measly sum?”
“Measly? Lady, I don’t know what world you live in that three thousand gold crowns is a measly sum but it’s not ours. Be reasonable.”
“We are being reasonable.” I scoff. “You ask for something highly unreasonable and incredibly suspicious but I stop Howie from denouncing you as thieves and offer you a compromise. Is it our fault you’re poor?”
I hold back a snicker as he frowns. “So we’re all reading from the same record, Howie isn’t offering his goods out of the kindness of his heart. Profit. Gold. If you can’t provide them, he can’t provide his wares.”
“Aaagh, fine!” Merven lets out an explosive breath and drops into his seat. “If that’s how you want it, that’s how it is. One For All retracts their requests.” His companion puts a hand on his shoulder as he grumbles to himself.
“So noted. One For All renounces their stake in this agreement. Any future agreement they make will not be backed by the temporary alliance formed for the campaign to the Bleak Peaks, of which includes the Torchbearers, the Steelskins, the Seventh Sons, and the Shadow Wolves.”
Saints, this man loves the sound of his own voice.
“Do not expect us to share, Merven,” Bearskin huffs.
“I won’t, Bear. Saints, we’ve got plenty of potions to keep fighters warm. For a sight less than three thousand gold too.”
“Peasants will be peasants,” Kimbleford mocks, holding out his mug to be refilled by his manservant. I hope it’s helping with the pain.
“We continue to the final set of requests from the Shadow Wolf guild.” His voice remains impassive despite speaking of his own guild. “The same agreement for the drinks as previously stated. Our additional request lies with this.”
From his pocket, he pulls out a small vial filled with a clear liquid. He hands it to the brewer. “We will give you the details of this potion and the ingredients used. We ask that you replicate its effects. Preferably before the end of the campaign.”
“Why is it that though I only agreed to provide liquor, you bastards keep asking me to do other things?”
“My superiors thought we should try our luck while you were in the mood to cooperate.”
“Well, at least this sounds interesting.” He pulls the stopper of the vial with his teeth and give the potion a sniff. “Yeah, very interesting. But don’t get any ideas about me working for you.”
“Should you prove successful, we will discuss the selling of the recipe.”
Howie pockets the vial. “That it? We done here?”
“Indeed.” Simone grabs the last paper in the stack he’s carrying and places it on top. A little craning of my neck reveals it to be blank. It doesn’t make sense until he pulls another vial from his pocket, this one larger and made of brown glass.
The consul pulls the stopper free. A thin stream of dark liquid rises from the bottle as his eyes glow. I watch with growing interest as the, presumably, ink rapidly writes elegant letters.
How is he doing that? Ink isn’t water.
[There are two ways I can think of,] Geneva says into my mind, forgotten in the corner she stands in. [If the ink is close enough to water and they keep their variables vague, one can simply brute force it’s manipulation. Highly ineffective when manipulating large quantities but for the meagre amount he is using, I imagine the extra expenditure is tolerable.
[The second option is that he is using a very advanced spell. The water affinity can manipulate all liquids, not simply water.]
Eh? Then why is it called the water affinity?
[The closer the liquid is to pure water, the less mana it takes to manipulate it. Also, the water affinity can only create pure water.]
The consul finishes writing and extends the contract to Howie. “If the terms are agreeable, I will sign your name and ask you to place a blood print beside it.”
“Blood?” I ask.
“Signatures can be faked. Blood cannot.”
[By amateurs.]
Howie squints as he stares at the contract, mumbling to himself.
[I believe you should intervene, my summoner.]
Hm? Something wrong?
[The halfling is struggling to understand the contract.]
Howie can’t read?! But he speaks fine!
[Two separate skills. He has a rudimentary understanding, enough to get by in simple affairs. However, this consul has deliberately used uncommon words and complex sentences to confuse the unaware. It is proving very effective.]
Saints, merchants. When he says his job is to facilitate negotiations between the guilds and third parties, he means they call him when they want to screw someone over.
[It is natural to seek the most benefit, even to the detriment of others.]
Howie is finally willing to work with them. You would think they’d have the sense to generate some goodwill rather than compound his distrust of them.
[Perhaps they think his distrust is too big a hurdle to move past. He has been rejecting them for years. Powerful people do not take denial well.]
“Let me see.”
“Oi, I was reading that!” Despite snapping at me, Howie surrenders the contract easily and his shoulders sag with relief. Mm, this wasn’t written with clarity in mind. The whole first paragraph is spent naming the involved parties in exhaustive detail, the letters half the size of my smallest fingernail so it all can fit on one page.
“This is stupid.” I throw the contract at Simone, his neutral expression cracking a little as he scrambles to catch it. “I’m not going to decipher that nonsense. Redo it and make it clear.”
“I assure you, nothing is nonsense. Everything must be clearly defined so there can be no misunderstandings and no one can go against their word.”
“There won’t be a misunderstanding if you write a clear contract instead of a book. Besides, Howie doesn’t need a piece of paper to make sure everyone keeps their word. That’s what I’m for.”
Kimbleford laughs. “I admit you’re strong but do you think you can bring judgment on five of the strongest guilds in Quest? Hahaha.”
“Yes.”
The prompt answer and the surety behind it cuts his laughter off. “Hey. A noble must have their pride but one must recognize when it becomes unseemly arrogance.”
As if you’re one to talk.
“You are wrong when you say five,” Bearskin says. “The Steelskins will not go against their word.”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t include my guild as well,” Cordy follows. “The young lady can make such statements as she pleases as there should never be a time where she needs prove them. We are all honorable men, are we not?”
“You make it sound like we’re trying to bully her,” Merven mutters.
If they’re smart, they’ll never find out exactly how capable I am of following through on my threat. “You want the contract signed, rewrite it.”
“You are not the owner of this establishment.” He looks to Howie. “This is perfectly good contract and I am not going to strain my core because your adviser doesn’t like its appearance. I suggest you control her so we can finish tonight’s business.”
Howie’s the one struggling with the contract. As if he’s going to pass up a perfect excuse to get rid of it.
The brewer’s lips twist into a sneer as he looks down his nose at the other man. “Hah? She’s my adviser. What kind of idiot doesn’t listen to the adviser he hires? Rewrite it.”
“Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to,” I add.
“…it is simply a bother.” Simone rolls up the contract and stuffs it in a pocket.
“I don’t know why you were making such a fuss. You even have more paper,” I say as he starts another contract.
“Being prepared for inconveniences does not mean I welcome them.” He finishes as quickly as before and hands it to me. “For your perusal.”
Mm, much better. No more thick paragraphs with tiny letters and pointless language. I pass it to Howie. “Look it over.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to do business,” the brewer huffs as he takes the contract. Once again, his eyes narrow but, from Geneva’s silence, I assume he’s no longer having trouble. “Alright, we—hey, wait.”
He scowls as he turns the contract around. “What the noon is this? I told you Sanity needs to be priced at five gold a barrel but this says a gold a barrel for two of you bastards!”
“You specified five gold for the Torchbearers alone.”
“It should have been obvious the same applied to the rest. You’re intentionally trying to screw me over!”
“Nothing is obvious in business. I wrote the contract according to your words. However, nothing has been signed. A simple fix.”
“So now you have no problem with rewriting it,” I tease. “And look, more blank paper. Why, it’s almost as if you foresaw you’d need to rewrite the contract multiple times. Are you…exceptionally clumsy?”
“Despicable,” scoffs Alana so quietly, I’m sure I’m the only one who hears.
Simone frowns. “I would ask you not to make accusations against my character.”
“Well, you’ve made two mistakes, ones that could have been easily avoided. I think clumsy is the nicest word for it.”
“Do I search this one for tricks too?” Howie holds the new contract between two fingers with a deep frown, as if holding particularly odorous trash. Suddenly, he growls, rather pathetically, and tosses it away.
“Agghhh! I may be a mutt and a runt but I’m a twilighter too! You gob shits aren’t going to walk all over me! Oi, Lou.”
I hum in acknowledgment as I watch his large nose flare with his rising anger.
“What would the dusky have done if they tried to cheat her?”
“You know.” Someone trying to cheat Kierra? Forget ink. The next contract, if she didn’t outright kill them, would be written in the offender’s blood.
“Yeah. I also know what my mothers would do.” He squares his shoulders and raises his chin. “All you bastards, get out of my bar!”
