Over a few hours and twice as many beers, Gideon told Flinn the whole story, start to end. For his part, Flinn mostly listened, only occasionally asking questions about the castle and its residents. He also asked for Grimsby’s pancake recipe, but Gideon sadly didn’t know it.
However, Flinn's biggest reaction had not been what Gideon expected. The dwarf had accepted without question the presence of spirits possessing a mirror and suit of armor, a skeleton, and a ghost. But when Gideon told Flinn what he planned to do, the bartender stared at Gideon as if he must be joking.
“You?” Flinn asked, laughing. “A bed and breakfast?”
“Why not?” Gideon said, staring into the bottom of his stein and debating if it was time for another. To Flinn’s credit, he placed another full one on the bar top without even asking, sliding the empty to the side. It was standard practice in any Dwarven bar that rather than refill your drinks, you got a new stein each time. By the end of the night, the patron with the most empties got bragging rights.
“I didn’t realize you were interested in the hospitality business,” Flinn said, shrugging. “That’s all I meant.”
“I mean, I hadn’t thought about it before. But I think it’s a good opportunity. I’ll still continue training in magic, but I can do both.”
“Uh huh. If you say so, pal.”
Though Flinn had brought Gideon iced tea as promised, it’d done little to counteract the large amount of beer he had also consumed. But Flinn had been right that at least Gideon’s headache had disappeared.
Flinn had been doing his job in a half-assed fashion tonight, relying on the other bartender to pick up the slack.
As a man approached and sat next to Gideon at the bar, Flinn turned to him and took his order—a pint of Razorforge Stout. Due to his drunkenness, Gideon’s reaction to the new arrival was slower than usual.
As Gideon looked at the man next to him—the man who’d sat right there though plenty of stools at the bar were free—fear and resentment washed over him.
“Mr. Rook,” Gideon said. “I was planning to see you tomorrow.”
“No, my boy, you weren’t,” the man said with a relaxed smile. He wore a well-tailored red suit and a gleaming gemstone visor, which Gideon knew could duplicate lower ranks of the [Appraise] skill when needed.
“The day after, then,” Gideon said, shrugging. “My next payment isn’t due for another week, either way.”
Mortimer Rook had the appearance of a respectable money lender during the day. But tonight, he seemed like something else—a predator.
As Gideon glanced towards the door, he saw Mortimer’s right-hand man, Finch Vex, leaning casually against the wall. At the man’s belt, something was holstered.
“Your knowledge of the calendar never ceases to impress me, Gideon,” Mortimer said. “I know you’re not late. I just came to chat.” The man cast his eyes on the collection of empty steins that had been pushed to one side. “I see you’ve been having a good night. I take it you’ve come into some money, then?”
At Mortimer’s words, Gideon felt his heart skip. He tapped his fingers on the bar, trying to think of the safest possible reply. “I wish,” Gideon said. “No, Mr. Rook. Nothing like that.”
Mortimer smirked and took the stein that Flinn had slid over to him. Though Flinn knew about Gideon’s disastrous loan, Gideon had tried to keep certain aspects of it a secret. Including the identity of the loan shark and the fact he had gang connections, though Gideon hadn’t known that at the time.
“You can put it on his tab,” Mortimer said to Flinn, jerking his thumb at Gideon. Thankfully, the loan shark didn’t recognize he was talking to Gideon’s roommate and friend.
Flinn began to laugh. “His tab? That’s funny because I’ve been the one spotting him. Sorry, pal, I’m not covering two drunks tonight. One freeloader is all I can handle.”
Thank you, Gideon thought.
Mortimer looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded coldly. He reached into his pocket and took out a coin purse. Carefully, he counted out a few pieces of silver, far more than the beer was worth, and tossed them onto the counter. “Keep the change. I’d like to have a chat with our mutual friend, barkeep. So if you don’t mind, could you give us a little privacy?”
Flinn gave Gideon a look, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“It’s all right,” Gideon told Flinn, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. He turned to Mortimer and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Let’s take our drinks to the corner, then.”
Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his drink and walked on wobbly legs to the other side of the beer hall. He didn’t wait to see if Rook was following him. Gideon sat at the end of one of the long tables farthest from the other patrons.
The other advantage of sitting here, Gideon thought, was that Finch couldn’t see them from his position near the door. He would have to move closer.
Once they were settled, Gideon took a tiny sip of beer, mainly to give himself something to do as he stared at Mortimer on the other side of the table. “So, Mr. Rook, what did you want to chat about? Since we’ve already mutually agreed I’m not behind on my payments?”
There was a trick known to anyone who possessed even rudimentary control of their mana, which is that circulating it within your blood cleansed the body of alcohol. Gideon felt a little guilty for wasting all that fine beer Flinn had so helpfully poured for him, but the last thing he wanted to be right now was drunk.
He took a deep breath and gave his mana a little push out of his core and through his circulatory system. He crossed his hands on the table to keep them from shaking—the effect gave him quite a jolt of energy.
Rook took a long pull of his drink, then leaned in and stared down his nose at Gideon. “Well, Mr. Moody, I heard through a contact of mine that you quit your job. You caused quite a fuss. It was all Mr. Dreadmoor would talk about for days. You pissed him off good, kid.”
“I guess I won’t ask him for a reference, then,” Gideon said calmly.
Mortimer chuckled and took another sip. “All well and good with me. But then I started to wonder—if you quit your job, what did that mean for your future cash flow situation regarding your debt?”
Gideon shrugged his shoulders. “Frankly, I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Rook. As long as I make my payments, which I will.”
Mortimer grinned. “You’re right, Gideon. Of course. You’re quite right. But if you were to leave town right after you quit without letting me know where you were headed, well… That might make me suspect you were planning to skip out on your loan, which would be my business.”
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As the mana continued to flow through Gideon’s body, he felt a sudden clarity, the alcohol fading more with every moment. He tried to think it through, just like when he was against himself in the mirror. If Rook attacked him, what would be the play?
Gideon shrugged, trying to act casual and calm, his eyes slowly drifting between Mortimer and the bar. Flinn was watching them carefully while he polished a stein with a rag. Mortimer’s goon had approached the bar and ordered a drink from the other bartender. Gideon got the distinct impression the heavy was looking at them out of the corner of his eye.
Turning to Mortimer, he gave a big smile. “Just a badly needed, long-delayed vacation, Mr. Rook. That’s all. I always planned to return. As you can see, here I am. Nowadays, Prospera is a short train ride from anywhere in Acretan, so there’s no need to fret about it.”
A vein bulged on Mortimer’s head, and Gideon tried not to react, choosing instead to take another drink. But when the man spoke, he sounded disturbingly jovial. “Of course, Mr. Moody. You’re a smart kid, so you would never violate our legally binding agreement. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”
“I’m doing swell, Mr. Rook. Thanks for your concern.”
“Fantastic.” The man smiled again, a grin that never reached his eyes. “I’ll look forward to your next payment, then.
Gideon nodded and smiled back. “I look forward to providing it. As I always do.”
Mortimer stood up from the table and began to turn towards the exit. “Well, in that case, I think our business is concluded. It’s been … a pleasure.” The man had barely touched his drink. Gideon felt relieved until Mr. Rook seemed to remember something at the last moment and turned back towards Gideon, his eyes focusing behind his visor.
Oh, no, Gideon thought. He felt Mortimer’s eyes boring into him, past the surface level of his appearance.
“You’ve gained three levels since I last saw you, Gideon. Congratulations.”
There was no point in denying it. “I’ve been taking full advantage of my free time.”
“It takes a lot of resources to advance so quickly, doesn’t it?” Mortimer said as if thinking it over. As if he hadn’t already known—hadn’t dropped an [Appraise] on Gideon the moment he’d stepped into the bar. “So you quit your job, skip town, and return stronger. Sounds like you got a pretty good deal. Quite the vacation.”
Gideon nodded. “Sounds like you knew right where to find me.” His mind raced, thinking of how and why Mortimer had hunted him down here, in this bar, tonight. Gideon had been naive, he supposed, to believe this wouldn’t become a bigger problem.
Though the “why” was still in question, the “how” became clear to Gideon as he thought about it. “You used a scrying spell to track me down, right? With the blood you took as collateral when I signed your contract.”
Mr. Rook nodded. “Every day since you left, waiting for you to return.”
“Why?” Gideon asked.
“No need to be suspicious, Mr. Moody. It’s not what you think. When I learned you were out of work, I planned to make you an offer. But maybe you don’t need a job. Seems like you’re doing well enough for yourself already. It makes me wonder who snapped you up.”
Gideon suppressed a laugh and shook his head. “Was that it? You wanted to intimidate me into working for you?”
The vein on Mortimer’s head bulged again. The man clearly didn’t enjoy being called out like that. Gideon ran everything through in his mind. No doubt Mortimer Rook had thought he could intimidate Gideon easily.
He had planned to threaten an unemployed spellmonkey, then dangle an opportunity for salvation, a way to escape the crushing debt.
All Gideon would have needed to do was trade one boss for another. He’d heard that geomancers could be helpful in all sorts of illegitimate ways—cracking safes, breaking through stone walls, navigating underground.
“I can see you’re not interested,” Mortimer said, frowning for the first time. “What a shame.” He made a motion to his associate, and the man noticeably relaxed. He adjusted his belt and headed for the exit, leaving his beer behind.
Gideon’s eyes focused on the implement at his belt, and he used his [Appraise] skill.
Crystal Ray Mana Emitter Active Ability: Channels crystallized mana through a focusing lens, allowing a beam of energy to be fired. Causes moderate damage to the affected area, in proportion to the concentration of the mana crystal. The mana crystal is imbued with fire mana.
Gideon was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to tell what type of mana was loaded into the gun before ranking up his [Appraise] skill to Stone. Silently, he thanked himself for studying on the train. If he managed to rank up again, he probably could have told how concentrated the mana was in the crystal. For now, he would have to assume that thing was deadly.
Gideon’s eyes shifted to Mortimer himself. Thankfully, he managed not to point at him this time.
Status Name: Mortimer Rook Level: 12 Attributes Might: 11 Brilliance: 15 Fortitude: 10 Willpower: 10 Finesse: 13 Guidance: 8 Skills Pyromancy: Silver, A Grade Meditation: Bronze, D Grade Manasculpting: Silver, B Grade Mana Crystallization: Bronze, C Grade
He’d never been able to [Appraise] the man before. He’d had no idea Mortimer Rook was a fire mage, but it made sense—he’d presumably created the mana crystal loaded into Finch’s emitter himself. Mana crystals were expensive on the open market, and Mortimer was economical.
Gideon did a quick [Appraise] of Finch, but thankfully, the man had no magical ability and no skills, though his Might and Finesse were both fourteen.
In short, Gideon was severely outmatched.
Mortimer smirked at Gideon. “Please,” he said. “You look petrified. I know better than to start a fight in a Dwarven bar, Mr. Moody. I’ll leave you be, kid. But first, tell me one thing—who got to you before I did?”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Who got to me?”
“It’s obvious you’re working for an organization now. Someone like myself. Nothing else explains it, Gideon. You leaving town only to return flush with cash, levels, and new skills.” Mortimer laughed. “A word of advice, rookie—you should try to be more subtle with your ill-gotten gains.”
“They weren’t—” Gideon started to argue before catching himself. He stood up from the table, and put his hands in the pockets of his robe. “You know what, Mr. Rook, I suppose you got me.”
Rook nodded. “Well, I don’t care which gang you joined, kid. You still owe me my money. Don’t forget the terms of our contract. If you don’t pay me—”
“I know, Mr. Rook,” Gideon said. “You’ll get every last copper.”
“It’s a shame. We would have worked so well together,” he said, then walked away.
Only once the door had closed behind Mortimer Rook did Gideon feel the tension leave his body. He stopped circulating his mana and let it flow back into his core.
“So, what the hell was all that about?”
Gideon jumped as he realized Flinn was standing right next to him. “My loan shark thinks I became a criminal, and he’s disappointed he wasn’t the one to recruit me.” He sighed. His headache had returned in full force. “I can’t believe this is all because of that magical prep course I took—remember that? Falconridge Preparation Examination? What a waste.”
“You studied a lot that month,” Flinn said, and in his amber eyes there was a look of sympathy. “I remember how pissed off you were when it turned out to be non-accredited.”
“Now I wonder if he was involved in it,” Gideon said, thinking it over, feeling his suspicion build. “What if the whole thing is a way to trap aspiring wizards?”
“Huh,” Flinn said. “Should have told him you were done being a wizard, then. You’re an innkeeper now!”
Gideon smiled. “You think he would have believed me?”
Flinn raised an eyebrow. “Not for a bloody second.”
They both laughed, but in the back of Gideon's mind, he was worried. Running away from his old life was going to be harder than he could have imagined.
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