Chapter 8: Assistance
The blinding blur of teleportation magic flooded the Sparrow's vision as her physical body levitated off the floor. Before she knew it, Mercedes was stumbling slightly off balance beneath a ceiling of molded archways shaped like a strange flower in full bloom. The petals all centered around the golden depiction of the alchemical symbol of gold, which the Sparrow recognized from her foster father’s book on alchemy, a prized possession and one of his many obsessions before the Lich King's horde stormed their home city, Islia.
The interior of the flower had six red petals, while the exterior contained seven forest green petals molded into the ceiling. Each panel enclosed its own unique golden symbol, none of which Mercedes recognized, though she suspected they related to alchemy in some way.
The arched stained-glass walls of the circular room were illuminated by the light of the northern sun, which had only just begun its descent toward the city's vast horizon. The Sparrow raised a hand to shield her eyes and blinked as she studied the rest of the room curiously, taking note of the moving magic circle beneath their feet.
“You can step forward now, Initiate,” Raimund said from where he stood outside the magic circle. “Best to not dawdle, or you might get whisked away to somewhere else inside or outside the city.”
The albino’s pink eyes widened, and she moved to safety before narrowing her eyes at the Disciple’s suspicious smirk. ‘Is he messing with me?’
Mercedes set her suspicions aside as they entered a large room filled with about thirty Mystics, segregated between lines of golden rope that all led to one of the six teller windows. None of the lines were moving particularly fast, and judging by the resigned expressions of the Mystics waiting in them, they weren’t expected to.
‘This could take a while.’
The Sparrow blinked as Raimund took her wrist and pulled the albino behind him. They circled past the entryway where the golden ropes began, over to one of two bank booths that waited along the southern wall. A reptilian clerk with green, scaly skin raised his gaze at their approach and presented a welcoming fanged smile as his yellow eyes fastened on the golden clasp of the Disciple’s cape.
“Greetings, esteemed member of the Mystic Academy,” the scaly clerk said as he bent his head toward the counter. “May the radiant glow of the crystals illuminate your path to boundless wealth and fortune. Clerk Braxus at your service.”
“It’s a rather time-sensitive matter,” Raimund replied, clearly used to the rather showy greeting. “I need to get this Initiate registered in time for Master Nicodemus’s class tomorrow morning, and to do that, she needs to open an account and obtain a bank voucher.”
The scaly clerk arched a brow as his yellow eyes turned to inspect the albino critically. “Then she must be new to the Realms.”
Mercedes felt an uncanny prickle of goosebumps break out across her arms and neck as she endured the rather invasive visual examination the clerk gave her that lasted far longer than felt necessary.
“Well, she is a mystic,” Braxus observed with a tone that suggested he was not impressed. “That said, she has no experience, trade skills, or transaction history of any kind within the Realms to recommend her. I doubt she has so much as a single inferior crystal to her name.”
“But she is an Initiate personally selected by my Master to join the Mystic Academy,” Raimund retorted sharply. The Disciple’s usually friendly and charismatic demeanor vanished as his gemstone-green eyes bore into the cleric with a hint of hostility. “Now, would you kindly ask Mr. Fitzroy if he can spare some time to assist us?”
“Why certainly, Disciple," Braxus hissed with obvious displeasure. The scaly clerk closed the ledger before him with a notable thud and strode through a door behind his booth.
“What was that about?” Mercedes murmured, still unsettled by the unpleasant sensation of the scaly clerk’s examination.
“They’re dragonites. All they care about is wealth,” Raimund answered with a note of frustration. “Normally, you would be required to earn a set number of crystals to open a bank account. They consider it a demonstration of your future potential. That said, the referral of a Master Mystic, let alone one as reputed as Professor Nicodemus, is more than good enough anywhere else.”
The Disciple leaned against the booth counter, tapping his thumbs erratically against the polished, gleaming wood before adding, “Their Primordial, Valara, is considered a neutral deity. She holds a great deal of influence in the 13 Realms because she does not show bias or oppose either side.”
“Either side?”
“You’ll learn more about it the longer you’re here,” Raimund muttered, seemingly avoiding the question. “But there is always a conflict going on in the background between the Temples despite the Accord our Primordial, Arcantheon, put in place to prevent an all-out war.”
“I see. So Arcantheon is the Primordial of the Arcane Realm?” Mercedes asked for clarity.
“Yes. And while Valara is a Primordial without any notable power or physical realm, you could say she is the Primordial Deity of wealth and currency, which is why we call her the Warden of Crystals.”
‘That seems like a pretty big deal.’
“Then she controls the Mystic Bank?”
“Yes,” he affirmed.
The Sparrow’s pale brows rose at the implication, causing the Disciple to laugh in amusement.
“It doesn’t give her as much control as you think since all the other Primordials jointly control the Mystic Emporium.” Raimund quickly raised a hand to cut off the albino’s next question. “We’ll get to that later. For now, Mr. Fitzroy will help you open an account and explain how currency works inside the Realms.”
The Sparrow frowned, closed her mouth, folded her arms, and then scanned the bank around them as they waited. Her pink eyes narrowed in surprise as she noticed the tall figure of a man with pale blonde hair in a military cut, who stood with his back to them, leaning against one of the teller booths. Oddly enough, the moment her gaze settled on him, the man pulled up his hood, grabbed a leather sack from the teller's window counter, and turned in the opposite direction, following the golden rope that led him toward the teleportation room.
“Disciple Raimund!”
The Sparrow turned at the sound of a rather squeaky voice to where Braxus had returned, accompanied by yet another new species of the Realms.
“Banker Fitzroy, at your service!”
The Mouse—Mercedes had no idea what else to call it—was dressed in a neatly tailored gray suit and bow tie. His head, which stood just a hair shorter than the height of the booth, was lined with brown fur peppered with gray around two dark eyes that showed not a bit of white and a light pink nose very similar in color to his two curious ears each shaped like a butterfly’s wing.
The Sparrow watched the creature with open fascination as he stepped through the side swing door to greet them. His mouse eyes focused back on her with equal curiosity.
“Welcome to the Mystic Bank,” Fitzroy greeted, his voice a few octaves higher than the average human. “Where the currents of magic and wealth converge. I would be most delighted to assist such a precious customer in opening your first account with us. Please, follow me, Initiate.”
“Y-yes?” Mercedes replied, still adjusting to her second talking animal of the day, though this one appeared to be the real deal rather than an illusion. The Disciple behind her gave the Sparrow a nudge, and they followed the mouse behind the booth and then through the gilded back door, which led to the private offices of the bank’s upper management employees.
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Another regular-sized door opened to a rather small office with a normal-sized working desk that faced a bench with cushions on which Mercedes and Raimund sat down at the mouse’s insistence. The banker climbed into his office chair, boosted by a pillow or two, and presented them with a rather adorable smile as his whiskers twitched with anticipation.
“Now then, why don’t you start by filling out an account application form for us, Initiate,” Fitzroy suggested. He pulled a folder from a file drawer, removed a slip of paper, and attached it to a clipboard, which he slid across the desk in her direction. “If you have any questions, you can ask myself or Apprentice Raimund.”
Mercedes nodded numbly as she accepted the document and then the ballpoint pen that Raimund offered her. Then she stared down at the sheet of parchment she could not read.
The Sparrow’s grip tightened around the ballpoint pen as she blinked down at the unfamiliar scribbled letters that defied her understanding. Even in her old world, Mercedes had been illiterate. Though her foster mother had tried to teach the albino her letters, Mercedes’s mind rejected the information. At first, her foster parents had thought it was simply because she was too old to learn what most children grasped at an early age. Their patience had faded over the years, turning into bitter disappointment, as their hopes of raising a child who would follow in their academic footsteps shattered.
“What good is a defective orphan who can’t even read?”
In the months that had followed the specialist's determination, Mrs. Bennet had turned cold, her once loving and nurturing demeanor shifting into disinterest seemingly overnight as she busied herself with charity work and left the no longer wanted daughter in her husband’s care.
It was Mr. Bennet who found a use for the illiterate albino down in his basement, where Mercedes experienced her first taste of magic and the darkness that hid within the human soul.
The Sparrow’s vision blurred as she continued to stare forcefully at the printed letters that might as well be blobs of ink. ‘Please. Allow me to read it. If I’m exposed now, the Academy will rescind their invitation, and I’ll be no better off than the Mundanes, who have no place in this world.’
Mercedes didn’t know why the magic screens controlled by a power she couldn’t comprehend were the exception to her disability. The first time she had seen one, her mental state had been beyond broken, and she accepted the anomaly without question. It wasn’t like she could suddenly read, but rather, there was some part of the system that helped her mind process what she saw by filling in the gaps and then relaying the information to her telepathically.
Still now, as she considered this variable, the Sparrow turned her attention to the quest screen in her peripheral vision. She focused on the first requirement [Obtain a signed Bank Voucher from the Mystic Vaults 0/1] and begged whatever Devil, Titan, or Primordial Deity that controlled this quest system to help her.
[Notice! Titan Astralindar, the Keeper of Mystical Knowledge, has heard your request.]
[Notice! Titan Astralindar has taken an interest in your predicament.]
[Notice! Titan Astralindar is attempting to open a line of communication with you. Access Restricted. Attempt Unsuccessful.]
[Notice! Titan Astralindar is frustrated by your lack of growth.]
[Alert! The Primordial of the Arcane Realm has altered the parameters of your mystical interface to include an additional function [Quest Insight] to serve as a guide while completing beginner-level quests.]
A blue screen appeared, hovering over the application form, and Mercedes almost cried as the system relayed the message to her.
[Would you like to activate [Quest Insight] for your currently active quest?]
The Sparrow hurriedly tapped yes and smiled as a new screen appeared, mirroring the application below, the information now readily digestible.
[New Account Information Form]
Please fill in the following:
* First and Last Name:
* Date and Origin of Birth:
* Current Residential Address:
“Do you need help with something?” Raimund asked, reminding the Sparrow of his immediate presence right beside her.
“What? No, no. I was only looking it over,” Mercedes replied as she hastily filled in her name at the top of the document, her pen following the ghostly traceable outline that awaited her.
‘Thank you, Primordial—whatever your name was. Arcane-something? Sorry, I promise I won’t forget it in the future!’
The rest of the form was self-explanatory, though there were a few questions the Sparrow couldn’t answer, which meant there were no traceable letters to fill in.
* First and Last Name of biological or legal parent(s) or guardian(s):
* Race:
* Current Class and Level:
* Temple:
* Do you have a Realm Issued Identification Badge, or will you be needing one today?
* Are you or have you registered at the Welfare Office for financial aid? Will you be needing assistance with that now or in the future?
‘Seriously? How am I supposed to answer any of these when I just got here?’
“It’s a lot, isn’t it,” Raimund whispered as he leaned closer and tapped on the line for her residential address. “You can put down the Enchanted Inn for now and the Arcane Mystic Academy as your guardian if you like, then N/A or not applicable for the rest you don’t know.”
“Right,” Mercedes murmured as the traceable letters appeared next to each line he provided a suggestion for. She filled them in, leaving most of them as non-applicable except for race, which she left blank. “What about the last two questions?” she whispered back.
The Disciple leaned over for a quick read before replying. “Yes for the first and No for the second.”
The Sparrow nodded as she circled the answers provided and then handed the pen back to him.
Raimund accepted the pen as he looked over her form, his brows furrowing slightly before he waved her on toward the waiting banker.
“All finished?” Fitzroy inquired, his dark eyes gleaming as he stood precariously on his throne of pillows.
“I think so,” Mercedes replied as she stood and placed the application and clipboard within reach. “Is this alright?” The moment she let go of the document, the [Quest Insight] screen vanished, and even the words she had written returned to blobs of unreadable ink.
‘Hopefully, I can use that option again in the future.’
“Hmm, it’s a bit light on details, but do not worry! We shall soon remedy that,” Fitzroy declared as he opened a lower drawer and pulled out a bizarre device, something between a microscope and a printer, which looked like it belonged in a lab rather than a banker’s office.
The Sparrow watched with growing wariness as the mouse unscrewed a cap on top of the device, revealing a rather sharp needle-like instrument.
“It’s nowhere near as dangerous as it looks,” Fitzroy chuckled, offering an adorable smile of reassurance as he pushed the device towards her. “Just a prick of the finger to draw a small drop of blood, and the Arcane Essence Analyzer will be able to identify your race and unique magical aura signature. We will use that information to secure your account so that you and only you may access it.”
‘Why do I feel like this is a terrible idea?’ Mercedes clenched her left hand as she recalled High Priestess Primula’s little test. ‘But if I pull out now, I won’t be able to complete the quest or register at the Academy.’ Her pink eyes narrowed in on the threatening steel needle as the cynical half of her brain chimed in. ‘This could very well be what they’re after. Offering the illusion of choice by dangling the Academy in front of me as an incentive. Once they uncover what I am and who I serve, they’ll likely react the same way Primula did and try to kill me.’
The albino clenched her jaw as she considered her options. ‘Then again, if they wanted my blood, they had plenty of chances to take it while I was unconscious.’ Her pink eyes finally left the device as they sought confirmation from the patiently waiting mouse. “Will the results of this test be kept private?”
“Most assuredly!” Fitzroy replied, fuzzy brows furrowing as if alarmed by the question. “A client’s privacy, security, and satisfaction are of the utmost importance to the Mystic Bank.” His whiskers twitched with apprehension before he leaned in to offer the albino a furry paw. “Initiate Mercedes. I can assure you that only you and I will see what the analyzer has to say.”
‘So, he will know, and so will the Bank’s Primordial.’ Mercedes shifted her gaze back to the device as she made her decision. ‘Well, I’ve come this far, haven’t I? Here’s hoping Valara will remain neutral.’
The Sparrow extended her left hand to the banker, who selected her index finger, which he then pressed lightly against the needle. The albino barely felt the prick before the mouse released her, flashing another comforting smile. Then they both turned their attention to the whirling device that thrummed awake as the tiny trace of the albino’s blood disappeared inside it.
“Now, this shouldn’t take long,” Fitzroy said while adjusting his bow tie. As if on cue, a small bell dinged somewhere above the printer at the bottom, which began to vibrate beneath the sharp, percussive clacks of keys smashing ink ribbons against paper before they zipped back into place.
The document emerged a short while later, and once again, Mercedes was frustrated by her mind’s inability to grasp the information before her. The mouse swiftly grabbed the paper with his small paw, his fuzzy brows furrowing once more before he hopped down from his chair.
“Pardon me for a moment, Initiate Mercedes. There seems to be an error, but just to be sure, I’ll run this past our Executive Branch Director. Not to worry, your magical signature has been recorded beautifully, so there won’t be any problems issuing you an account and voucher!”
No sooner had Fitzroy delivered this rapid explanation than he disappeared through the door and vanished.
“Well,” Raimund muttered as he rose from his chair to shut the door the banker had left ajar. “That was odd.”
Mercedes clenched her jaw silently as she returned to her seat to wait, inwardly fuming as she glared at the magical analyzer. ‘Lesson learned, I guess. Never trust a mouse.’