So much gold!

Jeremy stared at the piles of gold at his feet — courtesy of Sebas and Shelby.

“And you say nobody could know you were there?”

“None,” Sebas answered. “I made sure to erase our traces.”

Jeremy could see his butler was uncomfortable, to say the least. He thought Sebas was too honest and too good for his own good — and by his own good, he meant his and not the butler’s.

He would have to make sure Sebas stayed away from the duke —and the whole of Bountiful — until he figured out a way to claim or conceal his newfound wealth.

“How much gold exactly?”

“84,751 in gold pieces, 233 pieces of jewelry, and 24 solid gold vases.”

Jeremy smiled. He could always rely on Sebas’ convenient magics for mundane tasks like counting, getting directions, and weather prediction.

“Did you say golden vases?”

“They were painted over,” Sebas explained. “The vases were most likely sent over by whoever the duke was spying for.”

“Any guesses?”

“Not cultists,” Sebas offered. “They wouldn’t start a fire near an asset’s hidden stash — especially one so connected.

“If I were to guess,” the butler picked up a golden vase “Maybe Avlin?”

Jeremy frowned. The vases looked more like they were from Kesh than Avlin — unless they were purposefully meant to do so, as Sebas seemed to imply.

“We aren’t at war with Avlin — we hold back the Ice for them.”

“Information and influence are always useful,” Sebas reminded him. “Competition between nations are constant, even without war — as Lord Amos used to say.”

Jeremy nodded — reminded of his father’s words.

“Spies and cultists,” he sighed. “All I wanted was to open a small shop and earn a bit of gold.”

He saw his butler eyeing the pile of gold surrounding him, hints of disapproval on his face.

Jeremy picked up the biggest pouch of gold he could see.

“Take the rest of the gold and use it as you see fit,” he all but groaned. “Distribute them to the people who lost their homes, or give them to the duke — I don’t care.”

“That would be for the best, Master Jeremy.” Sebas bowed.

“I’m keeping this,” Jeremy gripped the pouch he carried.

***

The duke stared at the Blackstaff’s son chosen messenger — a young man barely out of his teens. He lugged around a chest as well as a large backpack.

“You said you traveled from the Corner Shop™ all the way to my manor,” the duke raised an eyebrow, “Carrying all that?”

“Yes, duke,” the boy replied. “All 10 minutes of it.”

The duke glared at the boy. The Corner Shop™ was 10 miles away from the city — as was demanded by several nobles that feared “the Scourge”. A rider on horseback would take at least 20 minutes to span the distance — but this boy was claiming he did it in 10.

“The guards didn’t stop you?”

“I blew past them, milord,” the boy answered. “The Scourge told me to.”

“Wait... did you just say — the Scourge? ” The duke started to doubt the boy — how could he be so disrespectful to someone he claimed was his master.

“I think he grew to like the name,” the boy insisted. “We call him Mister Jeremy, but he doesn’t mind being referred to as the Scourge — in fact, he prefers it.

“I see.” the duke forced a smile. “And you are?”

“Warden, milord — the Scourge’s Warden.”

Cedric stared at the boy. Why would Jeremy choose this boy to be his warden? There wasn’t a trace of mana within his body and he seemed hopelessly mundane — like a typical farmhand.

“You said you blew past the guards,” he eyed the boy.

“Indeed he did, milord,” one of his guards interrupted. “Guards on horseback came to the manor soon after the boy came.”

“Was there a reason so urgent you would need to bypass the guards?”

“Yes, milord,” Warden answered. “This.”

He placed the oaken chest on the ground with a loud thud — opening it to reveal heaps of gold.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Everyone out,” the duke commanded. He recognized the markings on the chest. The insignia was Randson’s.

He waited until his guards left the room before turning to the boy.

“Heavy chest?” he smiled Warden. Was it his name or his title? His judgment of the boy seemed premature — especially since he managed to carry the laden chest all the way from the Corner Shop™. Maybe he deserved his role as Jeremy’s warden.

“I barely noticed, milord.” the boy answered. “I’m used to carrying heavy loads at the farm.”

It seems the Blackstaff’s son can turn a farmhand into some sort of speeding ogre — why am I not surprised?

“I assume what’s in the backpack is important.”

“I have no idea, milord,” the boy shrugged. “I was told to head straight here. I didn’t bother checking the pack.”

It could have been a magical device timed to explode, killing everyone in the vicinity.

Unquestioning minions — how fitting for Jeremy’s persona as this Scourge. Or was it a persona? He was beginning to think the Blackstaff and his son were simply deranged or twisted. Just how was the wizard brought up?

The duke watched as Warden opened the backpack and take out several notebooks. He took one and gave it a cursory reading — immediately realizing the significance of what he was holding.

“Has anyone else seen these?”

“Just the Scourge, Sebas, and Shelby — as my cousin refers to them,” Warden caught the mirth in his voice, “and you, milord.”

The duke sighed. The less who knew about the ledgers, the more he could control the backlash.

He went to his desk and opened a drawer — taking out a signet. “Show this to the guards next time,” he said as he presented the ring to the boy. “That would mark you as my messenger.”

“Thank you, milord.”

“By the way, why didn’t Jeremy have Sebas just open a portal? Why did he make you run here carrying all that… stuff.”

“Sebas left earlier, milord — on an errand for the Scourge,” Warden answered. “He said he might be gone for more than a fortnight. He made me warden of the Corner Shop™ as well.

***

Sebas was gone. His errand would take at least three days to fulfill — more than enough time to carry on with his plan.

“Are you sure you can get to the place you visited with Sebas earlier?”

Shelby answered with eager clicks and whistles.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He was hesitant to leave the shop to the boys and Shelby’s three snails — but the likelihood of another attack after the first one was pretty slim. Shelby also neatly packaged the soldiers into glass cocoons, making escape all but impossible.

He wondered about excretions — but the soldiers vehemently begged him not to make an opening. It was strange, but the soldiers could probably hold it for a day or two — seeing they weren’t eating much.

There were a few smirks from the boys. He remembered his childhood, when jokes about excretions and farts sent him laughing. Boys never changed.

He climbed to a comfortable nook on Shelby’s shell. He patted his faithful companion, infusing her with a portion of his mana.

The gargantuan snail took it as a signal to go, immediately sinking below the ground as if it was water.

It was a strange sensation — phasing through the ground. The tingling was overwhelming, but he just shut off the sensation from his mind.

Compartmentalization was one of the earliest skills he learned. Screaming demons promising pain and their almost palpable rage could drive anyone insane — so Jeremy learned to shut off parts of his mind and body from his consciousness.

It took Shelby half an hour to reach their destination.

A simple light spell lit up the room, allowing Jeremy to see treasures his butler missed — and he missed a lot.

The room was practically oozing with opulence.

The two chairs by the desk could easily sell for 100 gold, and the chair behind it could sell for more. A knock on the desk revealed it to be elven oak — another 100 gold.

Sebas didn’t even bother to open the desk. Most of the drawers held trinkets, the most expensive one — a large emerald necklace — could probably sell for 500 gold.

The bottom drawer was locked, but it was hardly a problem for a wizard. It held notes of credit from various businesses in the capital as well as Kesh and Avlin. Each note was the equivalent of 50 gold and there were three dozen of them.

Jeremy doubted he could cash in on the notes any time soon — but he could probably sell them for a portion of their value.

He noted the silverware, but there was something far more valuable in the room — the two bookshelves.

There were close to a hundred books on each shelf — none of them magical. Still, Jeremy noted the quality of the books — evaluating their value at more than 5,000 gold.

It was a good haul. Too bad he didn’t have Sebas’ convenient magic door spell. He could probably open a portal to one of the more sparsely populated hells — or he could send the books to boring hell and give the suffering a bit of entertainment.

He chuckled. He should probably burn the place down before leaving.

On the corner of the room, Shelby was eating an ornate plate.

“Shelby, don’t eat that,” Jeremy admonished the snail.

“That was a fake — this is real silver.”

***

Mineva wondered who would be knocking at the door. She hoped she wouldn’t find another child, abandoned by fleeing parents after knocking.

She opened a door to find an unexpected guest.

“Oh, i-it’s you,” she stammered.

She didn’t expect to see the butler on her doorstep, especially after her trip to the Corner Shop™. Sebas seemed distracted — even uninterested — but now he was on her doorstep.

“Miss Min,” Sebas started. “I need you.”

His words made Mineva’s heart flutter, if only for a bit. She quickly noted the tone of the butler/shopkeeper, realizing he probably meant her help.

“Anything for you Mister Mage,” she smiled.

“There was a fire in Bountiful. A lot of people lost their homes — good people.”

Min hesitated. Her orphanage was in Forge, and it could barely provide for the children here — taking more people was impossible.

“I don’t —“

“I only need your help to tend to their needs,” Sebas interrupted, “There’s enough money to buy goods as well as hire personnel.”

“I would be glad to help,” she accepted. “How many people are we talking about?”

“Close to six hundred,” Sebas frowned. “You’ll need to bring your own people — you’ll have to manage the whole operation. Master Jeremy will provide the gold, but his presence in Bountiful would be frowned upon by some of the nobles.”

“You won’t be there?”

“Sadly, no.” Sebas shook his head. “I need to go on an errand for my master — but I trust you, Miss Min.”

“Sebas,” Min was stunned by the butler’s admission. “I will not fail your trust.”