Chapter 110: Never Trust An Idealist

Subject: Caim Location: Maliscade - Gate District - Protoflora: Envisioned Ecosystems

Gwen was still stuck on Novette's words, mumbling to herself.

"Now that I think about it, the mage I got the recipe from said that it has a 'comedown', and I don't know what that means, but I think Novette just explained. These are all of the ones I have left, but I can get rid of them--"

"It's a tool. A useful tool," Caim mused aloud.

"Then I can make more if you want--" Gwen stammered, her furrowed brow indicating she was still deciding whether the product had been a good idea.

It probably won’t work for me since I can’t use real magic.

"Thank you Gwen, but I don't need something like this. What you have done is a great help, though, and I really appreciate that you thought of my needs. You did good. Thank you for thinking of my needs. For now, I don't think I need it, but I would like to have it around."

The adorable young merchant's eyes widened, and she looked up at him with a defeated expression. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wasn't quite at the point of crying. Before, she’d been looking up at him expectantly, and he worried she'd misinterpreted him. He really was grateful. To convey that, he leaned over and patted her on the head.

"I thought..." she began, in a daze, but stopped and just stood there wordlessly.

"I'll bet you've been a big help to everyone else, too."

It sounded more patronizing than he intended. She was much younger than him, yes, but she wasn't a child. She was smart and he meant every word.

Gwen didn’t push his hand away, and a tear dripped down her cheek. Not wanting to overdo it, he removed his hand. She snapped back to attention.

Just in time, Novette came back into the room, a mug of steaming liquid in each hand. It smelled like tea.

"Dayla Petal tea, anyone?"

Novette warned them both that the contents were very hot. Gwen took a mug, gingerly, looking down at the pale blue liquid. Caim also took a mug.

He took a sip, and the sweet taste was more flavorful than expected, but only just. It also carried a pleasant bitterness to it. Not too bitter for his tastes, at least.

"You’ve had this stuff before, Caim?" Gwen asked.

"Not this blend, but something like it. In my home, there were many flavors, and I kind of miss my favorites now. Thank you for this, Novette."

"Yeah, thank you," Gwen seconded.

"You're very welcome," she replied, smiling serenely.

"Now, Gwen. You said you made a little profit from the endeavor? This pouch is heavier than it was when I gave it to you. It's in here?"

Gwen nodded.

"Put it in a separate coin pouch. Use my coin when needed, but put any profit beyond what you borrow from me in that pouch from now on. Even if you don't back any investments, keep it divided."

"Could you be clear what your reason for that is?" she wondered. "It will be easy to do, I just want to know your reason for asking."

Caim walked over to the space where Gwen had set up her things. Actually, it seemed that most of these things were Novette's possessions. At least, that was his assumption. Gwen didn't own much.

This must be where she concocted that mystic of hers.

Caim contemplated his reasoning for separating the coin pouches. It was just a whim at first, but he doubled down on this mentality.

The Blight is dangerous.

"I want to accrue some savings for our partnership. I'll contribute to it too, and you’re free to borrow what you want from this shared pool." He looked at Novette. "Either of you can. That would be the whole point of something like this."

"It's yours. I don't deserve to--" Gwen began, but he silenced her with a stern look.

Maybe a little too stern. He was more than a little tired, and Gwen really needed to understand where this partnership left her. She wasn't something like an employee, but a full partner. If anything, he was the only weak chain in this link, just barely managing to struggle on with Vera's sourcetech.

"You doubled what you borrowed from me, Gwen. I'm stupid enough to believe you can do that with any amount you borrow, but just listen to me say it if you can't hear the words coming out of your own mouth. You made this 'mystic' for me. Even though I don't need it, you were able to profit off of it and pay back the investment. This venture was a success, and that alone would make you deserving."

He glanced at Novette in the corner of his eye. The botanist looked around at the samples she and Caim had begun to grow using his Flourish Catalyst. Caim turned to face her, and he could see a small smile curling the edge of her mouth. Maybe she found the banter amusing.

"Do you think it's pathetic that it took me weeks of hard work to save up what was in that pouch?" he said, with a face that assured her he wasn't legitimately accusing her of anything like that.

This was just his way of making this particular point.

"No, I don't!" she shot back, taking the words a little too seriously.

"I didn't think you did. Coin isn't my worth in life, and it isn't my value to our partnership. Your value isn't the profit you make from our investments. I'm sorry for being so blunt, but I'm... tired..."

Novette looked over to him, concerned. Only she knew the state his armor had been in.

"I just don't want you putting so much pressure on yourself," he continued. "You're only going to end up burning yourself out if you work under those kinds of stressful expectations."

Then what am I doing? I'm a hypocrite.

Novette twirled her body to look at both of them, holding her hands partially outstretched.

"You're not putting too much weight on your shoulders, are you Caim?"

He silently begged her not to say anything. He didn't want Gwen worrying, and Novette had the power to come clean about his destroyed armor. She had the power to destabilize a carefully balanced situation. That was what it meant to put your trust in someone. Caim had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"No. I'll admit, there were some things that were out of my control in the past, but I'll slow down once my spells get a little stronger. Already, I've seen that there is a lot to gain from them. With just a little more effort... I'm excited to think about what we could do."

They weren't convinced. Both of them looked at Caim like they knew he was lying to himself. It was a little unexpected, but only a little.

"Where have I heard that before..." Gwen wondered. "Wait, seekers say stuff like that all the time! They say things like 'once I increase my rank' or 'once I learn this new blade technique'. They say they will stop risking their lives, but none of them look like they mean it. Have you ever met the ones that do?"

Well, no, he hadn't. Mille told him most living seekers retired from debilitating injuries, unable to afford treatment to restore mobility to the level they needed for work. Others turned up dead. Most of them never returned at all, their bodies consumed by the festerfonts.

The Maliscade Branch of the Blightbane Guild was working on changing that, and so far they seemed to be doing well. Mille led the charge, and everyone in the Guild seemed to know it. Even that renowned commander respected her greatly.

"Look at me, Gwen," Caim said. "I am not taking seeker contracts because I love the contracts, or because I revel in festerfont combat. I am doing it because it is a means to an end. I'm not like them."

Oh no, Caim thought as the words left his mouth. I really sound like one of them. But he wasn't one of them. He knew that, but fighting the accusation only made it worse.

"That's what some of them have said in front of me..." Gwen pointed out. "But... you don't look like you're lying."

There was something different about Caim. He wasn't from this world. Formerly, he lived a life where he didn't risk his life daily to make ends meet. He'd been spoiled by those degrees of separation.

Strangely, risking his life fighting monsters instead of manipulating communications and people from relative safety at the old ARC HQ, was a better deal. Sure, he was terrified. Sure, he regretted his choices on a regular basis. But... there was no longer any questioning whether what he was doing was right.

It reminded him of something his best friend used to say. After the tragedy that became the nail in the coffin for ARC.

"There is no worse person to trust with power than an idealist."