Chapter 11

Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Meditation]!

Meditation – Level 1

Type: Passive

Effect: This basic meditation technique focuses on bringing your awareness to the present moment. By calming your thoughts and observing your breath, you create a state of inner peace that fosters the natural restoration of your mana. It’s a simple practice that can be maintained throughout the day, even while traveling or performing light tasks. However, that requires a higher level of the skill. Connections: [Meditation] has formed Connections with [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], enhancing all three skills’ effects.

A smile spread across Ethan’s face. He continued his routine like usual, albeit with one addition: daily meditation. It took some time, but slowly—ever so slowly—the dull aches behind his eyes receded, replaced by a refreshing coolness as his mana regeneration speed increased. Meditation indeed helped.

[Meditation] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!

[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!

[Magic Perception] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!

“Finally!”

Unexpected bonuses! Ethan chuckled. It seemed even seemingly basic skills could have hidden relations. He closed his eyes once more. He had a feeling this was just the beginning.

Time passed, and he continued making rune motes. But a new kind of worry furrowed his brow. The novelty of handcrafted soap had its limits. The initial batch was sent to potential investors, nobles, merchants, et cetera—and it had indeed vanished like suds in a rainstorm. He’d even managed to train a couple of the more eager servants, turning them into his first, albeit slightly nervous, soap-makers. But scaling things up? That presented a whole new bar (pun entirely intended) of challenges.

First, there was the money issue. His pockets were starting to feel empty. Expanding his operation meant serious investment, something he could only take so far.

Investors. Ethan grimaced. The word conjured images of stuffy suits picking apart his plans with a practiced sneer. He shuddered. Funding everything himself was a pipe dream. He needed someone to believe in his vision, a knight in shining armor wielding a hefty bag of gold.

But the bigger challenge, the one that kept him up at night, was the production line. Hand-making was a labor of love, not large-scale commerce. He wanted a streamlined process—bubbling vats and efficient filling. Factories, of course, were out of the question. But the principles could be adapted, scaled down for his humble little workshop.

Large, sturdy vats, fire-resistant, and big enough to hold gallons of bubbling lye solution, were a must. Then came the pouring—tedious and time-consuming by hand but he would find a solution somehow. Safety, of course, was a large concern in his mind. Lye was a fickle thing. He needed proper ventilation systems, thick gloves for handling the caustic solution, and clear safety protocols practically drilled into his fledgling soap-making team. Maintaining quality was another worry. With increased volume, ensuring each bar possessed the same level of perfection became a concern.

Not to mention delays. Delays—that word was the entrepreneur’s nightmare. Machines breaking down, surprise ingredient shortages, unexpected problems in the production line… Ethan knew they were inevitable. He needed a buffer—a reserve of supplies and a maintenance plan to weather the inevitable storms. It was hardly rocket science, but the logistics of it all made his head spin.

Regardless, Ethan worked on the investor pitch, the design for the assembly line, the contingencies for delays—and with each minute, they solidified.

There’s so much to do...

***

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, standing inside the makeshift workshop they’d made to produce more soap. The latest batch of soap sat on the wooden table—smooth, white ovals that lathered luxuriously and left a hint of calming fragrance. The results were undeniable. Now, he had quite the amount of soap made already; it was time to get his creation into the hands of those who needed it most.

Selling within the barony was the easiest option. He could hire someone to hawk his wares at the market, catch the eye of housewives in need. But Holden was small, and the potential customer pool was limited. Not to mention folks knew him, and they didn’t trust him. Regardless, a well-placed stall at the weekly market would likely do the trick—meager returns, however, given that majority of the people were poor. Thankfully, they could afford it.

Ethan needed to be bold, however. The grimy hands of miners in neighboring Corinth, and the mud-caked travelers passing through the bustling border town of Westford—they all needed to experience the excellent product he’d made. Catching the eyes of a noble or two would be even better. Spreading the word beyond Holden presented a problem.

Trade fairs, perhaps. Grand events held a few times a year, attracting merchants from far and wide. The thought of securing a stall at the Westford fair, a place that would be teeming with potential buyers—and the biggest Bordertown that could arguably be called a city—was indeed enticing. But that would require waiting.

Nah, can’t wait. I need money. Merchants themselves would be it. Partnering with a reliable merchant who frequented the border towns could be a more strategic approach. He’d provide the soap, the merchant would handle the transportation and distribution, sharing the profits. But finding such a partner would be rather hard considering his reputation with the Merchants Guild...

Ethan sighed. He needed a plan that would push his soap beyond Holden and into the wider world. I should contact some of Theo’s friends...

Thinking of those “friends” that were indeed just like Theo if not worse, Ethan weighed his options, but settled for it regardless. He had no choice.

“Excellent work, everyone,” Ethan praised the workers, then walked outside where he boarded his carriage. Sitting down, Ethan looked at Roland.

“Roland. Send a letter to Hector asking if we could arrange a meeting,” Ethan ordered. “If he isn’t willing, contact every merchant of worth in Holden—contact the Merchants Guild, they will likely ignore me, given my reputation; however, even if one of them agrees to come, arrange a meeting. I will not be taking a bad deal, but we need to try anyway. Surely not all of them hate my guts...”

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Roland looked doubtful of that possibility. Ethan coughed.

“As you wish, my lord.”

...

The carriage was going through the town to his manor when Ethan received a letter from Jack—through one of his undead ravens—regarding the base spell’s situation. The man had been using himself as the nexus, and the spell was working, analyzing the blight-organism’s patterns, recording them, sending them back to the nexus (Jack), and then those instructions would be sent to the base spell in every soap. The process was costing the man quite some mana, and he’d been requesting a mana crystal so he could make it the nexus instead of himself.

Mana crystals were unique, naturally forming gemstones that were imbued with magical properties They formed in regions with a high concentration of mana, often in places where the veil between the physical and magical realms was thin. These regions typically formed deep underground, in caves or ancient ruins, making them difficult to access. The formation of a mana crystal itself a slow process. Over centuries, the ambient mana in these regions coalesces and crystallizes, forming these precious gemstones. The size, purity, and power of a mana crystal depend on the concentration of mana in the area and the length of time it has had to form.

Procuring mana crystals was a dangerous and costly endeavor because it required skilled miners and mages to safely extract the crystals without damaging them or causing magical backlash—it could even be called magical cancer. Worse yet, they could explode. Thus, all the mana crystal areas were akin to area-51 back on Earth. Heavily secured, well-guarded, with possibly several types of magical alarms and defenses to detect intruders, and these mines were watched very, very closely by whoever could. Once extracted, the crystals must be carefully handled and stored to prevent their magical energy from dissipating. Due to their rarity, power, and the difficulty in procuring them, mana crystals were highly valuable. Often used in powerful spells, magical research, and as a power source for magical devices.

The flow of Mana Crystals into the market is strictly controlled due to their potential for misuse—though, if Ethan was being true to himself, it was most likely so the crystals could be sold at exorbitant prices. Though, the “official” reasoning by the mining guilds was that in the wrong hands, a mana crystal could be used to fuel destructive spells or create forbidden magical artifacts. As such, governments and guilds often regulated their sale and distribution, requiring permits and licenses for their purchase and use.

That’s why it’s quite understandable that a mana crystal would be the best nexus. Thinking so, Ethan rubbed his chin. However, mana crystals are expensive...

Ethan wrote back to Jack, penning his concerns and reassuring Jack that he would try to get his hands on a mana crystal as soon as possible. However, it would take time as they’re hard to come by. Not to mention, they cost a hefty sum, and Ethan lacked money at the moment. I need a way to make it absolutely certain that Hector will agree to be an investor. I also need people in the Merchants Guild backing me up—

As he was writing to Jack, Ethan suddenly had an idea. He paused, blinking, staring at the raven. Hmmm. I wonder if I can use these little guys to gather dirt on nobles. The morality of doing such a thing was questionable, and he would rather not do it, but he was in a world that required such actions if he wanted to survive.

Ethan leaned back into the soft backrest inside the carriage, a pensive look on his face as his mind raced with possibilities. He knew the noble houses of the kingdom engaged in all manner of unsavory dealings—corruption, bribery, smuggling, tax evasion on a grand scale, illegal trade in magical artifacts, forced labor in hidden mines, pregnant prostitutes, bastard sons and daughters, and even human trafficking. Heck, he was sure many secretly engaged in trafficking exotic Beastkin from the other continent. A cold disgust settled in Ethan’s stomach. Some Noblewomen with harems of human-looking Beastkin for their amusement. Men who lusted after feline Beastkin, keeping them chained and collared, using their enhanced senses for perverse pleasures. Sadists, the entire lot of them.

The children of these unions were another layer of tragedy. Then there were the barbaric collectors, humans who craved the immense strength of the Minotaurs, using them as gladiatorial entertainment or worse, in underground fighting rings where blood painted the cobblestones—heck, he was sure many were breeding monstrous Chimera for use in their personal fighting ring. The Beastkin weren’t livestock, they were sentient beings, their cultures and traditions as rich and varied as any human kingdom. Yet, here, in the supposed bastion of civilization, they were nothing more than exotic commodities to fuel the insatiable desires of some of the elite.

Lucianos Solarian IV, the Emperor, had outlawed Beastkin trafficking decades ago, and the punishment for defiance was a brutal lesson etched in blood. The first year after Beastkin slavery and trafficking were outlawed was etched into history.

Public execution wasn’t harsh enough. Traffickers were broken first—physically and mentally. Men and women alike. Weeks of torture were standard, designed to make them not only regret their crimes but also serve as a terrifying public reminder of the Emperor’s wrath. Ethan shuddered. He’d heard about men and women being flayed alive, their screams echoing through the city squares. They were forced to march through the city squares, stripped of their finery and any magical glamours that masked their appearance, stoned. Their crimes were announced to the jeering crowds, their faces branded with a mark signifying their depravity. They were then forced into hard labor, their bodies broken and their vanity shattered.

Surely, the Emperor was no kind man, and the message was clear: Beastkin were not slaves, not pets, not trophies. They were sentient beings deserving of respect, and the Emperor would tolerate no violation of their rights. Theodore’s father was the same, Obsidian was one of the better Kingdoms under the Empire. Heck, it could be said to be the best.

However, just like always, people still participated in sick behavior. Not everyone, to be fair. But a minority, still. And given how large the Solaris Empire was—and not to mention the other Empires that were worse than Solaris—there were bound to be dark secrets that they would do anything to keep buried. It was just how things were, and Ethan doubted it would ever end (the continent of Beastkin wasn’t any better; humans were the ones exotic there).

Thus, Jack’s undead ravens could be the perfect spies, slipping into noble manors and gatherings unnoticed, their beady eyes and keen senses recording every sordid detail. With enough incriminating evidence, he could blackmail these nobles into supporting his business ventures, ensuring they backed his proposals and used their influence to aid the common folk. Ethan would feel no remorse, regret, or apprehension for doing so. The thought of wielding such leverage would give him a significant advantage when he inevitably threw his hat into the political arena. He refused to be a mere pawn, manipulated by those with wealth and status.

This way, he could control the game from the start.

However, a nagging voice in the back of his mind cautioned him. Using necromantic summons for espionage was hardly an original idea. Surely, some of the more paranoid nobles would have measures in place to detect and counter such tactics. He would need to tread carefully, lest the ravens be discovered and his plans unraveled before they began.

Still, the potential rewards outweighed the risks. With careful planning and execution, he could amass a wealth of compromising information, giving him the power to shape the kingdom’s policies for the betterment of its people. It was an ambitious gambit, but one he felt was worth pursuing despite the moral wound he’d receive from doing it.

Then, when the time is right—I can report them to the Emperor.

Ethan’s gaze drifted back to the raven, its lifeless eyes seeming to bore into him.

A wry smile tugged at his lips. Let’s see what secrets you can uncover for me, my little friend. Thinking so, he added a line saying that he would like to meet Jack sometime and talk about a “business opportunity”—after all, talking about such illegal activities that he was thinking of doing wouldn’t be wise over a letter.

...

A pleasant surprise awaited Ethan in his manor. A middle-aged man in simple attire paced within the living room. He had light, close-cut brown hair and brown skin. The stranger had sharp features, a salt-and-pepper beard, and a kind face that seemed easy on the eyes. Upon seeing Ethan, the man’s features stretched into a deeper smile as he bowed.

“Lord Theodore. I am Derrick. My apologies for the unscheduled visit.”

“It’s alright. I’m not sure if we have met before, Sir Derrick,” Ethan responded, glancing at Roland who appeared to have recognized the man. Roland gave Ethan a look that said I know this man, and he’s here for business.

“Indeed, we haven’t, my lord. I am Derrick, and I used to be a member of the Red Tower. I come here to talk about introductory books that you might be interested in—and a far better deal that could benefit the both of us.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, then smiled.