Chapter 16 — From Effort to Validation (1).
I followed Sophia's advice and accepted staying locked in the castle for four days because, at that moment, it seemed like the most sensible decision to make.
Elara agreed in the same instant, probably because her arms were also numb from the long combat we had.
The only — and big — problem was that I forgot that "resting at home" has a completely different meaning when you are under Lady Ísis's roof.
As soon as we crossed the doors of our property, my mother, as always, freaked out and ran to hug me. — By the gods! How did you get like this, Lycon?! —
— Ow, ow, ow! It's okay that you are worried, Mom, but these scratches are burning, you know? — I complained, trying to pull away.
She released me abruptly and shouted: — Nella! Prepare everything we have to treat scratches and cuts! — Then, she turned to Elara with an inquiring look: — And how did you let him get like this? — — Lord Lycon got distracted and rolled down a hill. Unfortunately, I didn't get there in time to catch him — lied Elara, with the greatest naturalness in the world.
— She really is an opportunist — I thought. — She just doesn't beat Alistair in that regard... Ah! Am I hated so much by the gods to only get screwed over?! —
I tried to explain myself and tell the truth about the combat, but Elara maintained the hill lie at all costs. To my indignation, my parents decided to believe her instead of me. — Her word is as firm as stone, Lycon. Especially after that absurdity you pulled at the tournament — sentenced my father.
After that, Nella guided me to the herb bath for the scratches. Although the water was full of herbs that supposedly "would prevent the pain", in practice, they seemed to multiply the burning I was feeling. At least the effect was real: after the torment, my wounds closed into small scars and the pain finally began to subside.
With my skin still red from the bath, I scowled at my bodyguard. — Damn exploiter! If you were going to lie against me, you'd better have stayed in the capital! — When my blessed watcher noticed my murderous expression, she approached and whispered: — Look, I know you are sulking because I lied to your parents, but the reward for this will come very soon. Just wait. —
I took a deep breath so as not to lose control and blow up the entire house. — I hope this "reward" comes very quickly. Because my desire right now is to blow you up — I retorted through gritted teeth. She just gave a low laugh and continued escorting me as if nothing had happened.
It was then that the illusion of peace evaporated once and for all. As soon as I announced that I would take a break from adventures to wait for my "streak of bad luck" to pass, my mother's eyes gleamed with that terrifying mix of maternal relief and aristocratic tyranny.
The burning bath and the heavy cleaning of the ash and sap from my body were not ordered so that I could sleep. They were to make me minimally presentable for my new nightmare. For Lady Ísis, four days without vaporizing monsters equated to ninety-six uninterrupted hours ready to be spent molding my character: an intensive and suffocating marathon of etiquette, rhetoric, and courtly diplomacy classes.
My four days of seclusion were not a well of deep reflection, but rather an absurd test of patience. My mother seemed to have the personal goal of turning me into a porcelain statue. She bombarded me with rules on how to greet dukes, how to gesture at banquets, and how to use the correct tone of voice so as not to seem too submissive, nor too aggressive. I could hardly wait to get out of that perfumed prison and blow something up again.
When the morning of the fifth day finally dawned and my punishment expired, I practically ran through the gates of our property, with Elara right behind me, shaking her head in disapproval. The foul air of Aritel had never seemed so wonderful to me. We passed through the streets observing the morning movement as we walked to the guild.
Along the way, a carriage that passed near us got stuck in a crater that the rain had made. Right when I saw this, I drew a Wind Gust circle, ready to help whoever was there.
However, to ruin my enthusiasm, Elara held me back.
— Why, Elara?! Let me help him, geez! —
— No, do you want to destroy the carriage? —
In the middle of this back-and-forth, a man with wolf ears and tail, in simple and tattered clothes, two meters tall, looking like he slept in the rain and his last meal was a beef bone, walked slowly to the carriage owner, saying:
— One gold coin and I'll get your carriage out of there. — he said harshly.
The owner immediately found it strange — One gold coin, isn't that a bit much for you? — he asked, confused — and how are you going to carry a carriage being so battered like that? Not even knights can do that! —
— Don't worry, I can do it — said the beggar, confident in himself — but give me that money already. —
The merchant thought for a few moments and then took a gold coin from his pouch.
— Good. — commented the homeless man. Right after, he braced himself better on the ground, holding the carriage near the wheel where he was.
With a loud thud, he lifted the carriage until it tilted to the side, and then moved it to a place without random holes.
— How did he manage to do that with almost no mana? — I thought. The owner was also completely surprised, so much so that he asked — B-But who the hell are you to be so strong?! —
— Me? I am Torin Grimwulf, a mere immigrant from the Heteromorphic Kingdom. — he proclaimed as he left with his gold coin.
To make matters worse, a boy of about 9 to 11 years old tried to steal his gold coin. The instant he was about to steal the coin, Torin twisted his hips, executing a kick that sent him flying for a few meters before falling unconscious on the ground.
— Just... Don't take my money, okay? — he said to everyone after that, as if it were his morning routine or his breakfast, if he even has one.
— Ah?! How the hell did he manage to deliver a kick like that? If that's his "light" kick, imagine when he wants to fight for real? — I shivered when I started to think about it.
— After that, even I feel sorry for that little shit of a thief. — commented Elara, mincing no words — these people are miserable but you have to be very cold-blooded to do that to a child. —
I took a step forward, instinctively wanting to see if the boy was alive, but Elara's hand grabbed the collar of my tunic, pulling me back firmly. — Don't even think about it, Lycon. It's not our problem. If the city guards arrive to investigate and see you in the middle of this mess, your mother will lock you in the castle until you turn twenty. Let's go in already. —
With one last look at the boy sprawled on the ground, who was already being dragged to the corner by one of the annoyed merchants so as not to block the street, I let myself be pulled inside the guild.
However, the atmosphere inside wasn't much better than the brutality outside. The familiar noise of beer mugs and loud laughter vanished as soon as we crossed the oak doors. We went straight to the counter, where Sophia was arranging some scrolls with nervous haste. When she looked up and saw us, her face lost some color. I noticed she had a silver wedding band on her fingers, something I had never noticed.
— Young Lycon, Lady Elara... — her voice trembled slightly. — I'm glad you're back. The Guild Master has requested the presence of you both in his office. Immediately. —
Without much choice, we entered, along with Sophia, the corridor behind the counter. When she pushed the third door in the hallway, we found the Guild Master, an elf with a red face, sweating buckets behind a desk cluttered with papers. He looked about ready to die when he saw me. — L-Lord Lycon! Thanks to the gods of light, you are alright! — He bowed in an exaggerated manner, almost hitting his forehead on the desk.
— A wolf brute and now an elf... Next time what will it be, a snake woman? — I thought, but soon getting distracted by thoughts out loud — A simple hip twist... Without any effort... How did the bones in his leg not snap with the force of the impact? All that strength has to come from somewhere! —
— My lord, regarding the regrettable incident with the ancient Treant... — the Master continued, swallowing hard seeing my glazed look at nothing. He probably thought I was planning to blow up the building. — I have already made it clear to Sophia that her incompetence in classifying an A-level mission as Rank C almost cost you your life! — The Guild Master pointed an accusing finger at her, trying to save himself. — As a way to appease your noble family, I will fire her this very day — no, I know that is too little, my lord, I can hand her over to divine justice for murder by negligence, are you satisfied with the punishment? —
Sophia practically wanted to push her head through the floor. Seeing this, and the guild master's attempted punishment, which closely resembled how the nobles tried to punish me, I regained my conscience and answered him:
— That attitude is pathetic. Are you trying to punish another for your mistake? Only and exclusively because of this I will have to request her permanence in the guild... Otherwise... I fear I will have to take action. —
— Enough with the pompous chitchat, you aren't in your house here. — Elara then immediately backed me up with an ironic smile of someone who's going to cause trouble. — Master, she doesn't need to pay any compensation here, the one who has to offer something in return is you... How about... You allow him to take Rank B missions? —
— M-my lord! I beg you, there is absolutely no need for action! — He stammered, lowering his hands as if trying to calm a bear about to attack him. — Miss Sophia will remain in her position! Intact! With a hazard bonus, if it pleases you! I-I just got carried away, that's all! —
He then turned his face in panic to Elara, eyes wide.
— But, Lady Elara, by the gods, have mercy on my neck! Rank B?! You know as well as I do that the Guild answers to an international council! The King already pushed the envelope for the boy to enter Rank C at twelve years old. If I sign a Rank B clearance for a child, the high council auditors would hang me in the public square before Baron Horus even found out! I do not have that power! It is bureaucratically impossible! —
He stopped to breathe, panting. The Guild Master's brain seemed to fry as he desperately searched for a way out that didn't end with him being fired by the International Guild or beheaded by the nobility of Aritel. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
— But... but I have a loophole! An exception! —
He leaned over the cluttered desk, lowering his voice as if revealing a state secret.
— If Lord Lycon's problem is that normal monsters are an insult to his power... and if he needs space so as not to destroy the city, I can grant confidential access to the missions or named missions of Nest Eradication and Horde Control! —
He forced a trembling and nervous smile, trying to sell the idea.
— By international rules, culling weak monsters remains Rank C. The Council will ask no questions. But, in practice, these missions involve clearing dozens, sometimes hundreds of creatures clustered in isolated caves or forests. It is sheer suicide for regular Rank C parties, but for someone like Lord Lycon... well... he will be able to use his colossal spells, blow up mountains, and obliterate entire hordes, all without causing a single bit of damage to civilian infrastructure! And the payment, of course, is much higher than normal missions. What do you say? It's the perfect deal! The Guild gets rid of the pests, and Lord Lycon gets a free pass to destroy far away from the city! —
Elara then looked at me and asked — Lycon, do you accept this? —
I didn't even hesitate to answer — Sure, sounds great to me! —
Then she turned to the guild leader — And for me, who protected Lycon, am I not going to receive anything? —
— B-but of course, Lady Elara! — his voice came out almost an octave higher than normal. — Your work of... supervision... is vital for his safety! A Rank A escort cannot work for free, may the gods forgive me for even leaving room for that kind of thought! —
He pulled out a blank official parchment with trembling hands, grabbed a quill, and dipped it in the inkwell with such haste that he splashed a few drops of black ink onto the reports on the desk.
— As a gesture of our deepest gratitude, the Guild will waive half of the standard commission fees on all control missions you complete! — He peeked at Elara's face, noticing she still didn't seem entirely convinced, and hurried to add — And! And we will also provide healing and mana potions at cost price from our own stock before each of these expeditions, in addition to free food and drink. —
Back there, near the door, Sophia let out a sigh of relief so heavy that her shoulders dropped. She had not only escaped being fired and a fine that would ruin her family, but now she was watching from the front row as her stingy boss was plucked alive by the blackmail of an adventurer.
The Guild Master stamped the paper forcefully, sealing the bureaucratic agreement as quickly as possible before Elara decided to ask for the building's deed as well.
— Are we understood, then? Everything resolved and... without the need to involve Baron Horus in these minor setbacks? — he asked, handing over the document with a desperate smile.
She finally nodded, and we left that room along with Sophia.
— Finally... Finally something goes well for me, the gods don't hate me! — I thought while walking.
— Err, Lord Lycon? — asked Sophia.
— You don't need to call me lord. —
— Err, Lycon? —
— Yes. —
— First of all, thank you very much! You saved me from having to work earning next to nothing for decades! You have no idea how much this helped me — She paused briefly. — I doubted you before, now I'm sure you are incredible. —
— Am I really? — I scratched my head, embarrassed because I had never received such a sincere compliment so directly.
— Anyway, will you want anything? My boss already said it's on the house today. —
She stopped at the counter, us in front of it, and Elara ordered 2 heavily seasoned meat skewers for us to eat.
The skewer meat was incredibly tender and the seasoning burned just right. Even though the seasoning was a bit rustic, it was still much better to eat there than to be cooped up in the castle. Sophia even made a point of bringing a mug of cold apple juice for me, a delicacy that I don't always have at the castle, because it's expensive, and a mug of beer for Elara, all on the house.
I chewed in silence, observing the movement in the tavern, which was gradually starting to fill up again with the return of the adventurers. The tension of the last few days was finally melting off my shoulders.
That said, in the middle of a bite of the meat skewer, four shadows loomed over me. Turning around, I faced a wall of kids, about my age, right behind me.
The leader of the little group, a boy with short brown hair, took a step forward. He tried to deepen his voice and adopt the posture of a veteran mercenary.
— So what I heard is true — he says, pointing his chin in my direction. — You're that boy from the capital. The rich kid who bought a Rank C with daddy merchant's gold and now gets free juice from the Guild. —
Between whispers and little chats, I heard — He doesn't even have a magical catalyst. I bet he doesn't even know how to light a campfire. — from one of the people in the group.
The leader of the little group, totally ignoring the little chats, took a step forward, chest puffed out and his face a little red with anger.
— We are the Iron Fangs squad. And, unlike little bourgeois brats, we earn our respect with sweat. The Guild Master might give you perks because of your money, but out there, on the battlefield, gold coins don't buy courage. —
To make matters worse, a stranger who was watching from one of the tables while eating cut him off — Rian... by the gods, boy. Just skip to the part where you recruit him or I'm going to cancel this mission and go to sleep... —
Both Elara and I laughed seeing this situation, while Rian turned even redder than before.
After a few moments, I remembered the conversation about a "magical catalyst". Totally ignoring Rian this time, I replied — "Magical catalyst"? Ah, are you talking about magic circles? I do have one. It's right here. —
Everyone took a step back, their eyes wide. However, one girl in particular grabbed the sleeve of the group leader. — Did you see that? He used magic without chanting words... — she whispered, her voice trembling a little.
But Gael, a boy in simple clothes with two full pockets, quickly shook his head to shake off the surprise. He leaned forward, squinting to analyze my "Mass Fire" spell drawn on the leather. When he saw the two squares and the multi-pointed star, he let out a shrill, nasal laugh.
— That... That is your catalyst? A piece of leather?! — Gael pointed his staff at me, assuming the air of an arrogant professor. — And what pathetic structure is this? Two squares connected directly to a star-shaped terminal?! And with twenty points full of filled circles?! —
He looked at his friends, shaking his head mockingly.
— This defies all basic theory of arcane flow! The mana will bottleneck in the lines and, when it reaches that ridiculous star, it will just collapse and short out! You were robbed by a charlatan, rich boy! —
In the background, two other girls started whispering: — It looks like a child's drawing... — said one. — But the circle is actually kinda cute... — replied the other.
Finally, Rian, who had also been startled by my sorcery, used Gael's "technical analysis" to recover his tough-leader posture. He puffed out his new leather chest and gave a smirk.
— See? I knew it was a fraud. Your money bought trash. But look... — Rian crossed his arms, trying to sound generous. — Since we feel pity for a tricked bourgeois, we'll let you come with the Iron Fangs to help on the hunt. We need someone to carry wood or tie some ropes for our trap. You stay in the back, don't get in the professionals' way, and when we finish the job, we'll pay you two silver coins out of our own pockets. —
At the other table behind us, the supervisor narrowed his eyes at my magic circle. His lethargy vanished for a brief second. He frowned, as if his survival instinct beeped looking at my circle. However, he just let out an exhausted sigh, massaged his dark circles, and muttered to his own drink: — I don't get paid enough to stop a kid from committing ego suicide... They didn't even notice that this requires really good calligraphy. —
Rian extended his hand in my direction, expecting a handshake. — So, rich boy? Going to accept and learn how real adventurers work, or are you going to run and cry in mommy's lap? —
I looked at my juice for a few moments, drinking it all at once. — You guys don't even know what this is capable of... — I commented. — Who taught you, a layman? — I think for a second, remembering when I was 6 years old, when I understood something that Silas hadn't understood at all until that moment, and then continue the answer — Wait... I forgot that not every student can learn things properly... Sometimes the mistake isn't the teacher's. —
— Layman?! — I heard the voice of another boy, squeaking mid-word — I memorized the Basic Compendium of Flows from cover to cover! I know what I'm talking about! You're the one who's going to melt his own fingers when you try to pass mana through that scribble! —
I turn to him. — I'm going to do this mission just to show what I'm capable of. And you're going to pay me double, no, an Aureate-Silver coin, if you realize I'm good. —
While Gael frothed with rage, Rian swallowed hard as another girl pulled the sleeve of his leather armor, whispering frantically and in a panic:
— Rian, are you crazy? We don't have an Aureate-Silver! We only have the silver coins left over from lunch! —
But the ego of a twelve-year-old boy challenged in front of his friends and the entire guild spoke louder than reason. Rian pushed Mila's hand away, puffed out his chest, and pointed his finger in my face, trying not to show his nervousness.
— Deal, rich boy! But when you wet yourself in fear in the dark of the sewer and your fraudulent magic fails when it's time to set up the bait, you're going to have to hand over that leather bag of yours and your boots to us! —
Elara, who until then had just been watching the scene with the smile of someone watching a comedy play, finally spoke up. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and turned her face to the adult supervisor at the nearby table.
— You heard the bet, didn't you? — Elara's voice sounded almost sweet, but it carried a heavy, sharp tone that only she could manage. — As the official supervisor of this Rank F group, you answer for them and are the guarantor of the mission. If these kids don't have the Aureate-Silver when my kid saves your skins in the sewer, the debt comes out of your pocket. And believe me, I know how to collect. —
He opened one eye, looked at Elara, then at me holding my drink cup, and then at the bunch of petulant kids he had to look after. He let out a sigh so long it seemed to empty his very soul.
— I should be planting potatoes right now... — grumbled Bóris, pushing himself off the wall with laziness and despair. — By the gods, let's just go to these sewers and tie the damn nets before I throw myself off a bridge. Move out, Iron Fangs! And you, capital brat, try not to blow up the drainage pipes, the city hall deducts it from my salary. —
The little group of kids turned around with airs of grandeur, marching toward the guild's exit as if they were heading off to an epic war, with Gael still grumbling about "gross errors in arcane geometry". Elara stood up, patted my shoulder, and whispered:
— An easy Aureate-Silver and a bunch of brats about to get their egos crushed. You are learning fast how to be a real mercenary. —
With that, we left the city behind, swapping the dense smell of the city for the open, fresh air of the meadows that extended beyond the walls. It was simply the best thing I could ask for right now, if it weren't for this damn squad that only gave me secondhand embarrassment — What do they have to be so embarrassing? — I asked myself as I watched their supervisor wanting to throw himself into any possible hole.
