“Gauntlet, spear, and shield,” Sebas noted the returned equipment. “You can have the bolts and arrows. They’re too expensive to sell and Lord Cedric graciously paid for the ones you got — even the unused ones.”
“How much for the gauntlet?” Gwin asked.
It seemed like the sorcerer grew fond of his master’s strange creation. Sebas was surprised at the design, never thinking his master had an eye for aesthetics.
“It’s not for sale,” he shook his head and tried his best to seem sad. “The gauntlet is reserved for someone in the master’s employ — but it could be borrowed for a fee. The same goes for every weapon in the shop — except for the shield.”
“I will think it through,” the sorcerer’s voice seemed a bit forlorn as she stepped back towards her party members.
“The attack on the duke’s estate,” Dallarath started “why didn’t the Scourge reveal himself?”
Sebas smiled, understanding the half-elf’s thoughts. Their party was celebrated as heroes while his master stayed in the shadows. It would have been a great boon to his reputation and the Corner Shop’s™ if his participation in defending the duke’s estate and subjugating the demons were to be made public — but his master balked at the idea of getting recognition.
The Scourge had an image to cultivate. Medals and public ceremonies would not be helpful to his menacing image. At first, he wanted to change his master’s mind but then he realized his master valued his privacy. No — it was more like he valued solitude, with the exception of a handful of people.
“Master Jeremy prefers to avoid the public eye,” he explained. “Everything was arranged with the duke. Don’t worry. He has been properly compensated for his role in stopping the demons and the wizard that summoned them.”
A bit grudgingly — especially after the incident with Staffany. Sebas happened on the unconscious duke and his wife after freeing the captives with Dallarath. It seemed like Shelby was a bit too eager in her healing, not knowing the touch of the golem brought pain to the ones she thought of as soft shells.
“What of the prisoners?” Dal asked. “I saw some of them outside — but their number was less than half of what we rescued.”
A hundred and forty out of the five hundred eight to be exact. Sebas wished more of them opted to stay, but most of them had families and lives they wanted to go back to.
“The duke arranged for them to return to their homes and their families,” he explained. “The ones you saw opted to stay and work for Master Jeremy. He promised them agreeable terms as well as a way to restart their livelihoods through financing and training.
“And how much will your master be taking from the grateful prisoners that he saved?” Gwin asked with a bit of venom in her voice.
Sebas smiled. Either the sorcerer was still bitter about returning the borrowed gauntlets or she truly had a thing against nobles — or at least the concept of landowners and servitude.
“The master would take a mere tenth of their earnings,” he explained, “and none during their first year. After that, their contributions would lessen for every year they stay — to as little as 5 gold for every hundred they earn or 5 copper for every gold in their fifth year. Of course, the ones that choose to work directly under the master or in one of his enterprises are free from paying taxes.”
The butler noted the looks of doubt from Dal’s party. Most nobles charged a third of their serfs’ earnings in taxes — but his master had more devious ways to get money from them. The Corner Shop™ was one way and his golems was another. He planned on leasing them as hired workers for a monthly fee. They would increase efficiency as well as relieve some of the burden from the human workers.
Dallarath’s party took their leave after a few more brief exchanges. Rem spent more than two hundred gold on healing drops, saying she was giving it to a few friends for emergencies. Aven’R did the same but her motivation was different. She was buying the drops to resell them for a profit in the guild.
Sebas frowned in thought as they left. The Corner Shop wasn’t that far from Bountiful. It only took an hour of riding to reach the shop — yet adventurers still opted to buy the drops at marked-up prices through the Amaranth shop or third-party sellers.
It was strange, especially since they had patrons who visited the shop and bought a few paltry items just to see Shelby and her snails — and now, the turtle statue. Some of them also brought their kids along.
Of course, certain measures were needed to protect the little ones — and the rest of humanity — from the turtle god’s memories. He asked Shelby to cover the statue in glass — but the snail declined. The job was left to the smaller snails, who covered the statue with goo that eventually hardened to a dense resin-like substance.
Certain parts of the turtle were left exposed — ones that held simple memories like how early men started fires, searched for water, or fished for food. The turtle’s memories only extended to something akin to the bronze age — where its worship probably ended and it was forgotten.
Sebas checked the time, wondering if he should close the shop early. They still had to interrogate the demon-summoning wizard — and his master was not the best at the job.
***
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” Jeremy smiled at the drenched and bound form of Clarence as he dropped the bucket of water he used to douse the man.
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“What? Whe—“
“Clarence, Clarence, Clarence,” he repeated the name to focus the other wizard’s attention. “As you can see, you are bound and helpless.”
Clarence struggled to no avail. It was dark and he was chained to the wall with chains strengthened with mithril and manacles that went down the length of his entire forearm. Sealing enchantments covered the manacles, preventing spellcasting and giving the wearer a mild paralytic shock every two minutes.
Jeremy was quite proud of this particular work — even naming it Jeffrey, for his adopted brother who used to tie him up while they were playing as kids.
“You— you’re not an agent of death?” Clarence stammered.
“Of course, I am,” he insisted. “I’ve killed lots of things. Mostly pests and other undesirables — but I do draw the line at helpless peasants.”
“That’s impossible!” the bound wizard protested. “I had a truthteller in the room — it should have revealed your deception.”
“This little thing?” Jeremy placed the emerald gem on the floor. It wasn’t even a real emerald — just a well-crafted piece of glass made to look like one.
“I never lied to you, Clarence,” he explained. “You might have understood my words incorrectly — but I told you the truth.”
“You said you killed the duke and his entire family.”
“Did I?” Jeremy shrugged. “I said I had cut short his life — which I did by sending him a cake.”
“Poisoned cake?”
Jeremy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the confused wizard. “No — just sugar, flour, and I think cinnamon and some berries. Mind you, those things can kill you within a decade. Half that if you’re already bulky or you have some sort of heart or kidney problem.”
“Why are you even asking me that?” he snickered. “Didn’t I decapitate the duke in front of you?”
“So the duke is dead?” Clarence sighed, a trace of relief in his voice.
“He’s fine,” Jeremy corrected. “He should be having dinner with his family at this very moment.”
“But you— you said—“ the bound wizard started to blabber but a light seemed to ignite in his eyes. “I summoned you. This must be a trick — a ruse to obtain my soul.”
“I let you summon me,” Jeremy frowned. “And frankly, I really don’t care about your soul. What I care about is your employer — as well as how you managed to tie the lives of five hundred people to a single crystal. It’s a fine example of resonance or magic that links people and things together.”
“I won’t talk,” Clarence spat, trying to hold on to a bit of dignity.
Jeremy could spot a hint of fear in his eyes, a sign that his employer had ways to deal with people who give up his or her name.
“Oh, you would talk,” he smiled. “and quite freely.”
The room brightened to reveal Jeremy, Shelby, and Staffany.
“In any case, I’m leaving you to Shelby and her toy. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. It has been quite a day and I still have to take care of a few things for my little shop.”
“Wait!” Clarence screamed in desperation. “I’ll talk in return for my freedom.”
Jeremy turned around and noted Shelby’s disappointed look. It seemed like she was intent on helping out — though she already did a lot during the demon attack through her golem.
The golem moved, placing a hand on Clarence’s chest.
The bound wizard screamed. His cry of pain, anguish, and indignation reverberated across the cave, sending back chilling echoes of misery.
Shelby’s actions bothered Jeremy a bit. He didn’t think she was the sadistic type — though she seemed to take on a different personality when using her golem. Was she using it as some form of stress release, or was she just playing some kind of twisted personality? It was probably the latter since she did call the golem Staffany.
“Enough, Shelby. Wha— okay. Enough, Staffany.”
He found it funny how Shelby insisted that Staffany was an entirely different person. Still, he would oblige her in her silliness if that would make her happy. She was probably bored just staying at the Corner Shop™ all day — even if she had Warden and his buddies to keep her company.
Jeremy waited for Clarence to recover and regain a semblance of sanity. He was about to douse the wizard with another bucket of water when he suddenly spoke.
“I said I’ll talk,” Clarence whimpered. “You didn’t have to set your monster and that damned awful golem at me.”
“Staffany,” this time, he made sure to address the golem as per Shelby’s request. “Do it again.”
Jeremy allowed the screaming to continue for several minutes. Oddly enough, he found the crescendos and changes of pitch in Clarence’s screaming quite soothing. He only stopped the golem when the poor wizard was starting to froth at the mouth.
The golem seemed satisfied by the way it sauntered back to Shelby — but his beloved snail was quick to act indifferent to the entirety of what happened.
He stared at the unconscious form of his prisoner. This time, he needed to use the bucket.
“Enough, please,” Clarence pleaded. “I told you I would talk in return for my freedom.”
“Do talk — but do so politely,” Jeremy warned. “Make no mention of monsters or statements that judge others by their appearance. We like to maintain civility in this cave.”
His prisoner’s eyes widened at his remark — perhaps understanding the need for a proper and friendly dialogue.
“Spill it.”
“I don’t exactly know who my employ — Wait! Please wait!” Clarence shrank when the golem approached. “I did my digging, but all I could find out was it had to be one of the princes or maybe even princesses at the capital.”
There was only one princess at the capital — but Jeremy decided not to correct the statement. The revelation wasn’t beyond his expectations. Princes would certainly treat the King’s brother as a threat to their ascendance — even when that brother believes he is a mere cousin.
“Well that certainly earned your freedom,” Jeremy smiled as he unlocked the prisoner’s manacles.
Clarence rubbed his wrists making no move to escape. Shelby was always imposing — but the newly-freed wizard seemed warier of the golem.
“Since you like to keep their company, I’ll be dropping you at Baelneroth’s plane, Meldevorn — which is hell number 1386-A. Not to be confused with Malvedorn or hell number 1861-B.”
A swirling portal opened, revealing a crimson landscape.
“Off you go now,” Jeremy remarked as he pushed the shocked Clarence into the portal. “You’re free now — so go be free.
It was a good day.
Oddly enough, Clarence’s screams as the portal closed sounded more musical than his screams in the cave.