Book 7: Chapter 12 - The Easy Life (RAW) (Patreon)

Chapter 12 - The Easy Life

The canals were cut after the first floods, when the sea rose hungry and took what it desired. Magisters of Earth and Water shaped the channels, engineers bound them in stone, and condemned men dug until their hands split and their blood mingled with the brine. In time, those crude wounds were refined into elegance. Bridges arched over the water, their edges dressed in ornament, while the docks expanded outward to receive the wealth of distant shores. 

- The Fanciful Travel of Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Our course decided, the first order of business was to secure funds. Before that, however, I took a moment to examine how this world chose to measure me. The first change I noticed was to the “UI” itself. The Mana costs for certain spells and skills had shifted slightly, as if those on high had decided to patch their creation while I slept. Some of my “Gifts” too had increased in their potency and severity, much to my chagrin and delight. More interestingly, I could now see the skills of my dark passenger.

[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.30 High Paladin/ Void Reaver

Level

30

Strength

70

Dexterity

52

Constitution

87

Intelligence

35

Wisdom

41

Charisma

29

Luck

45

Health

1830/1830

Stamina

148/148

Mana

27/27

Experience

393/23737 

Mimic

(lvl. 32)

Strength

27

Dexterity

58

Constitution

64

Intelligence

4

Wisdom

4

Charisma

1

Luck

15

Health

1123/1123

Stamina

106/106

Mana

3/3

Adaptive Defense

5

Shield Form

5

Absorb

5

Perception

4

Armor Form

1

Skills

Imp. Pain Nullification

3

Advanced Power Strike

1 [10]

Advanced Endure

1

Stealth

3

Adv. Rest

1

Backstab

4

Advanced Dodge

1

Adv. Polearms

3

Imp. Dual Wield

4

Imp. Critical Hit Mastery

4

Adv. Unarmed Combat

4

Imp. Hammers [Adv]

1

Imp. Flails

4

Imp. Maces

2

Adv. Shields

1

Imp. Medium Armor

4

Adv. Heavy Armor

2

Imp. Axes

4

Imp. Daggers

5

Throwing Weapons

5

Double Throw

5

Imp. Shield Bash

3

Improved Riding

3

Imp. Dash

5 [10]

Adv. Swords

4

Crossbows

5

Blind-Fighting

4

Imp. Rush-Strike

5 [15]

Tracking

1

Trap Detection

2

Imp. Frenzied Strikes

3

Monster Taming

5

Lotus Palm

2 [5]

Manticore Claws

3 [5]

Bows

5

Shield Crash*

2

Vorpal Slash

4 [10/2]

Spells & Magic

Heal

5 [5]

Rust

5 [1]

Identify

5 [1]

Silent Casting

4

Advanced Mana Regeneration

4

Purify

5 [1]

Greater Heal

5 [10]

Holy Aura

5 [2*]

Decay

4 [1]

Greater Drain

5 [2]

Improved Entropic Aura

3 [2*]

Inferno Bolts

4 [1]

Sage's Sight

4 [2]

Freezing Aura

5 [2*]

Holy Strike*

4 [1]

Entropic Strike*

2 [1]

Aura Manipulation*

3

Overboost

5 [2]

Whispers of the Grave

4 [5]

Great Prayer

1 [15]

GIFTS

Curse of Entropy:  -20% to all starting attributes.

Mark of the Paladin:  10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical.  

Embrace of the Void:  20% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 40% resistance to Mental Effects, 35% immunity to Mental Effects.

Mark of the Adaptive Helix:  17% resistance to Physical, Regeneration.

Mark of the Mantis:  15% greater affinity with all weapons.

Entropic Gift:  10% lowered experience gain, 12% greater affinity with all Entropic spells.

Heavenly Gift:  5% extra experience gain, 12% greater affinity with all Holy & Divine spells.

Gift of the Mother:  5% extra experience gain, 6% resistance to all negative magical effects, 5 bonus to Constitution.

Then there was Freezing Aura. I did not remember placing points into it, nor did I remember it leveling. For a moment, that seemed as if it should matter. Then I shook my head with a shrug. It did not matter in the least. I was in a rock solid place in respect to my character’s power in that I had so many ways to break and restore.

After the meal, we asked the portly innkeeper for directions to the banking district. Not wishing to be led about by the nose and spend the better part of the day wandering through picturesque confusion, I appropriated one of his staff members to guide us. The boy was small, wiry, with the name of Liam and of a meek, careful demeanor.

Without Theodore or Bubbles, we attracted much less open attention. We did not exactly blend in, of course. An armored man in black-gold plate accompanied by a Magister, two elves, and a boy pretending to be brave vanish into a crowd. Still, the people of Meridian did not stare as long as they did before. Their eyes flicked toward us, studied us for a moment, and then looked away with the practiced indifference of city folk.

We passed through a market district where bright awnings stretched between pale stone buildings and the morning air smelled of fish, spice, fruit, salt air, and humanity. Merchants called from their stalls with voices honed by years of competition, offering bolts of dyed silk, silverwork, fried pastries, glass charms, preserved fruit, and a dozen other things I had no immediate use for. Some of the braver souls attempted to draw us toward their wares, but our progress, though not swift, remained steady.

The local equivalent of the Al-Lazarian Exchange was a place called the Lehman’s Bank, located near the beating heart of Meridian beside one of the city’s larger canals. The building was large, though calling it merely large did not quite capture its arrogance. It loomed over its neighbors like a giant pretending to be civilized, its broad stone steps rising toward a set of heavy doors banded with dark iron. Tall pillars fronted the entrance, and the marble facade was executed in the Greco-Roman elegance style of Quas.

Above the columns, carved friezes depicted gods and monsters locked in furious battle across the heavens. Wings, claws, spears, serpents, thunderbolts. A heavenly tableau of an event that was a lie, as are all things that come from the so-called gods of this world.

With my helm clipped to my belt, my armor clanked heavily against the stone as we ascended the steps. It had a different timbre than steel. Though the Adamantium plate looked almost like blackened steel, there was a weight to it that set it apart, a density in my tread. I had left my halberd behind, but two swords at my hip were statement enough of worldly wealth.

We were not the only armed people in the district, of course. This was a blade culture, and it was quite common for the average person to walk about with at least a long knife. Merchants wore jeweled daggers. Even some of the clerks had slim blades on their belts. 

Inside the bank proper, past the iron-banded doors and into the cool stone interior, the matter of arms and armor grew more serious. Men in half-plate leaned lazily against halberds, short swords hanging at their hips. They wore wide-brimmed hats with plumes tucked into the bands, looking for all the world like this game’s version of the landsknechts of old. Their eyes tracked us as we entered, weighing threat, wealth, and inconvenience in a single practiced glance.

Their attention did not linger long and they soon grew bored, judging that we had not come to rob the place.

I turned to the boy, Liam.

The boy had performed his function adequately enough, and adequate service deserved adequate reward. I took a small silver coin from my purse and flicked it toward him. He caught it with both hands, eyes widening for the briefest moment before he remembered himself and bowed.

“Return to the inn,” I told him. “Inform the good innkeeper that we may be some time.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, though I had given him no title to use.

I watched him vanish quickly outside, past through the doors of wood and iron, and he was soon lost in the crowd. That settled, I looked around.

The interior of the Lehman’s Bank was all polished stone, dark wood, and the faint smell of ink, wax, and old parchment. Sunlight entered through tall windows. Clerks moved behind counters like acolytes in a temple, their heads bent over books..

I approached one of the counters.

The clerk behind it was a young man with neat hair, nervous hands, and the expression of someone trained to be polite. His eyes moved from my armor to the swords at my hip, then to Larynda, then to the elven sisters waiting behind me with their usual air of beautiful indifference.

“How may the Lehman’s Bank serve you, sir?” he asked.

“I wish to speak with someone concerning a line of credit from Al-Lazar,” I said. “Preferably someone with authority enough not to waste my time.”

The clerk’s politeness sharpened at once into attention. Al-Lazar, the City of Dust, had that effect on men who understood money. Real money. I showed him my token from the Exchange, and he asked a few soft questions, none of them intrusive enough to irritate me, then requested that we wait a moment while he consulted with a superior.

It was a well-trained performance; deference without groveling, and caution without cowardice. 

We were not left waiting long.

Another clerk appeared, older than the first and dressed in better fabric, though not so fine as to suggest true importance. He bowed and led us past the public counters, through a side door, and down a short corridor where the noise of the banking hall faded. The bank changed character as we went deeper. Less a temple to greed and now more a private fortress. Above doors of dark wood hung brass plaques with the names. On the walls were paintings of dead men who looked down with disapproval. Larynda discretely informed me of the Ward-lines worked with great subtlety into the lines of the floor and walls. 

Eventually, we were shown into a sumptuous back room overlooking one of Meridian’s canals.

It was the kind of room built to make wealth seem respectable. Thick carpets covered the floor. Two long sofas faced one another across a low table of dark wood, upon which stood a silver tray with water, wine, and fruit. The windows were tall, and beyond them the canal glittered with afternoon.

We were invited to sit.

I did so, armor and all, and enjoyed the faint protest of the sofa beneath the weight of my armor. Larynda sat beside me, trying very hard to look composed and only mostly succeeding. The elven sisters took the opposite sofa with effortless grace.

The man who entered shortly afterward was old, thin, and impeccably dressed.

He had the narrow build of a scholar who had forgotten more than a few meals. His hair was silver-white and combed back with severe precision. A pair of delicate spectacles rested upon his nose. His clothes were dark, well cut, and free of ornament except for a small gold pin at the lapel.

“Lothario de la Rey,” he declared, bowing. “Senior factor of Lehman’s Bank. How may I be of service?”

I withdrew the token from the Al-Lazarian Exchange and placed it upon the table.

Lothario’s eyes flicked to it. Only once. His expression did not change, but I saw the calculations behind his eyes as he slowly accepted the truth. The algebra of greed.

“I have a line of credit established through Al-Lazar,” I said. “I wish to avail myself of the Lehman’s services while I remain in Meridian. Money will not be an issue, provided competence is not either.”

The old man picked up the token with careful fingers and examined it. He merely turned the token once, held it toward the light, then set it back upon the table with a small nod.

“This is recognized,” he said. “And respected.”

“This is Larynda Tucker,” I continued, gesturing toward my ward. “She will coordinate with you on the smaller matters.”

Larynda shot me a look, but said nothing.

Lothario turned to her and bowed his head. “Magister Tucker,” he offered, eyes glancing at the staff resting against the sofa.

“Factor de la Rey,” she returned.

“First,” I said, drawing his attention back to me, “I require assistance finding a domicile. Not rented. Purchased. A suitable manse within the city. Large enough to show wealth without appearing desperate to display it. It must have space for servants, a large courtyard, stables or access to proper stabling for unusual mounts. And walled that I might have enough privacy that my business remains mine. And staff for security and to ease life in general.”

Lothario steepled his fingers. “Such properties exist, though they are seldom inexpensive.”

“Oh, I am sure,” I added with a wry grin.

His brow furrowed in thought. “There are houses in the old canal districts, though those are often more concerned with lineage than comfort. There are newer manses along the western terraces, favored by merchants and foreign dignitaries. Less history, perhaps. Some noble families also lease or sell secondary residences near the Academy when debts demand discretion.”

“Second,” I continued, “Larynda requires a place in the Academy as a student.”

This time, the old man’s gaze moved to her with greater interest.

“The Academy’s admission process is not usually a matter of purchase.”

“Of course not,” I replied slowly, letting the polished lie settle between us for a moment. “What I require is not a purchased admission. I require opportunity. The right introductions. Proper tutors if there are deficiencies in whatever ridiculous subjects they test. A late examination, if such a thing can be arranged. Sponsorship, if sponsorship is required. Donations, if donations are customary. The exact form of the bribe matters less to me than the result.”

Larynda, to her credit, remained quiet.

The Factor adjusted his spectacles. “There are patronage customs, endowments, and letters of recommendation. Preparatory tutors will be trivial. Certain families maintain seats of influence, and certain departments are more receptive to unusual candidates than others.”

“Excellent. Then we understand one another. I require a house, a path into the Academy for my ward, recruitment of suitable staff, and access to funds without tiresome delays. In exchange, you will be well compensated for making my life easier.”

Lothario de la Rey inclined his head.

“I believe,” the older man supplied, “that the Lehman’s Bank will be most pleased to serve.”

It was truly amazing how much easier life was with money.