“Did you really expect me to sign this?”
The woman tilted her head, looking confused. “Yes, of course?”
Sedric was not fooled and sneered. “What, going to send hitmen after me if I don’t? Lock me out of access to my money at the banks?”
She frowned. “What? No. That’s not what I- oh.” She put a hand to her chin in thought.
He had to clench a fist when the woman dared to act insulted. There was no way that she didn’t know what was in that contract. Even if it was written by someone else, a leader so useless that they didn’t know how crafter contracts worked, and left a subordinate to do the work for them, was little more than a puppet.
He nearly began shaking in anger when she gave a small smile, appearing like she had understood something. He watched as the woman leaned forward and turned the contract documents over until he could see the last page. Then the woman leaned back again and shrugged.
“Sorry. I should’ve made it so this was at the start. I think after reading this you’ll change your mind.”
Sedric crossed his arms as he leaned forward to read it. He didn’t know what games she was playing now, but he wasn’t going to fall for it. He scanned the document, but rather than seeing something else incriminating, he found something confusing. He frowned, this time not in anger, but in puzzlement. He picked it up for a closer look.
“Non-exclusive contract? What is this?” he asked after looking back up.
The black-haired woman nodded. “Yes, I guessed you had missed that. I have no intention of preventing you from crafting for other people. All I care about is that you craft some items for me, and that’s it.”
He stared at her. “That is ridiculous. Aren’t you worried I could just craft the same item for everyone else, sharing your secrets with all your rivals and enemies? This isn’t logical.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Am I the Faction Head, or you? Besides,” she added. “I have added clauses to protect against that.”
He scoffed. Of course, she did. After he signed this contract, he would be locked out of half his abilities if he ever got out of it, just because her Faction would want to prevent any possible chance of their ‘secrets’ escap-
“It says here that you must credit the author of the item blueprint if you use concepts from their work for any other item. And any item design must have over 50% variation compared to the original item when used to create an item for anyone but me. I think that’s all…. oh wait.” The woman said, tracking the words on the document she was holding with her finger. “The author gains 10% of the proceeds if the crafter sells an item with under 50% and over 40% variation. No item with variation under 40% is to be sold or given to another at any cost. So, there you have it.” She finished, looking up.
Sedric was even more confused than he had been when he saw the ‘non-exclusivity’ condition. These terms were… extremely generous. So much he became even more suspicious, as nobody gave crafters, who had no combat abilities, these terms. He picked up another one of the pages, pointing to the words he had seen earlier.
“But what about the clause that states I’ll only be released when I make the item you need? That’s just an excuse to keep me in your service forever.”
He blinked as the woman clicked her tongue and leaned forward to take the page out of his hands with a “Let me see that.” He watched as she scanned the document, and then she pointed to another line on the page, this one a bit lower.
“Yes, I did put that in. But you failed to see I said that I needed only a single item made, and it would be using blueprints I have given you, and I am liable for any failures in the final outcome because it relies on you being Rank-3 to even begin making the artifact. In other words, I can’t keep holding you forever, because it would be my fault, and not yours.”
He took the document she held out to him to read again. He frowned. “This has to be a trap. There’s no way a Faction would be willing to give me so much support and be willing to accept blame if the outcome is not what they desire. Liability under the Empire means the more powerful Faction or force has to pay more depending on the power difference between the two groups. That could be up to a hundred times more resources compared to if I broke the contract.”
The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. She grabbed another sheet and turned it around for him to read. “This is why you always read the full contract. Look at the top here: It says, ‘Private Contract’. As in, a contract between individuals, and not a Faction and crafter.” She continued, showing him the name signed at the bottom, which read ‘Lucille Goldcroft’. “I am requesting this in my personal capacity as another equal, and not requesting you to be my subordinate under the leadership of the Commission. You won’t join the Faction with this contract.”
He cocked his head, still sceptical. “But that would mean you have the resources capable of ‘unconditionally’ supporting a Legendary class crafter, all by yourself. I’m not a Legendary warrior, I require much more than someone who just needs a good weapon and armour.”
The dark-haired person opposite him leaned back and shrugged while grinning. “Surely you’ve heard of the Founder’s vault, the private property of the Faction leader?”
Sedric felt his jaw drop as he understood the implications, and gulped.
“Forget one Legendary crafter.” She added. “I can support a hundred.”
He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I… think I might need to re-read the contract.”
The Commission Head laughed. “Take your time. If you wish, I could add a probationary clause, so you have a month in which the contract won’t take effect, and you can cancel the deal at any time during that period.” She leaned forward to tap on the coffee table, pointing at the documents. “Unconditional support goes a lot further than you think too. I could let you move to a new residence or rebuild this old one. If you wish, you could do your work in the Headquarters itself and possibly even stay there.”
Sedric slowly nodded, seriously contemplating the offer this time….. maybe the contract was worth it, even if it was trapped? He considered another part of the contract. “I don’t want to work 24/7.”
She nodded. “8 hours each weekday, including an hour of break. I was originally going to give you both Saturday and Sunday off, but there are limits to how much I can let you have free time, even with my authority as a Faction leader. Instead, on Saturday will be when we meet up to discuss your progress or what you require to advance your craft, including any additional item requests we can organise as well. If I have a crafter I want to use them well.” She grinned. “You can’t begin making my required item until Rank-3 anyway, so crafting a few extra accessories for me until then won’t be difficult. I’ll support you with all the blueprints, materials, and equipment you need, and you gain bonuses for each additional item you craft. It’s written in there.”
Sedric nodded again but then paused. “Blueprints? I didn’t think they were very common. Are you sure you have enough?”
Most crafters didn’t make blueprints so their work couldn’t be copied. The mask-wearing woman pointed a finger at him and asked a question to him in return. “Yes, I do. In fact… do you know what makes crafter or non-combat classes special?”
He raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question but answered. “Our terrible combat stats, obviously. But I would say our specialised techniques are the most important thing.”
The woman tilted her head and then gestured to him. “But, mages and wizards can use mana just as well as alchemists can, so why does their mana make spells, but alchemists makes elixirs?”
She continued without waiting for an answer. “Well, their techniques are different, besides the fact, alchemists put their mana into substances, but it’s not some fundamental aspect of their mana that causes the different outcomes. It’s just their knowledge of how to manipulate their mana differently, knowledge given to them by a skill. So, if knowledge is all that separates a mage and a crafter…”
She grinned. “Then can’t you just learn it all the hard way?”
Sedric stared, dubious. Was she implying you could find out how to make blueprints by learning all the information required to be a crafter using mundane memorisation? But to do that, you needed to have an incredibly high studying ability and be capable of storing it all in your mind without needing a skill to aid you and repeat it enough to create functional items without a crafter’s class. She was also implying you could learn how a mage uses their mana through that method too… and that all the blueprints were created by her.
Before he could ask if what she suggested was true, she got up off her chair and stretched. She turned towards Sedric.
“So, would you like me to quickly add the probationary clause to give you an extra month to think about it? I am the new Head of the Commission, so I have other work to do. We’ve left my silver-haired partner downstairs for quite a while as well.”
Sedric blinked and responded, stuttering. “A-Ah, yeah, I think that would be best for now.”
She nodded and added another clause to the magical contract. Thin, multi-coloured strands of mana coalesced and melded into the contract as she wrote, and he could see that her neat handwriting perfectly matched the rest of the words on the documentation, so that ruled out the possibility of a subordinate writing up the document. Once she had done, she got up and nodded, holding out a filled fountain pen to him.
"Your turn.” She spoke.
He hesitantly took the pen and read what she had added. When he found it was all in order, he slowly put the tip of the pen to the page. He had a moment where he almost wanted to back out, but he eventually gritted his teeth, and before he could pull away he signed his name in one fluid movement, the golden ink sparkling on the paper. Then he handed it back.
She pulled out what Sedric recognised as a document duplicator, a small magic item used to replicate the physical writing of the document, but not the magical component. “Would you like the original or the copy?”
“The original,” Sedric replied. She nodded and reshuffled the documents into their original numerical order, and then placed another pile of documentation next to it, these blank. She put the long thin silver strip of metal along the top edge of the pile, before slowly moving it downwards to reach the bottom edge. On the blank documents next to it, black ink unfurled on it and spread to form a copy of the magical document, this time purely mundane and without the golden text. She handed the magical contract back to him.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Now that we both have a copy of this, I think it’s time for me to get going. I’ll see you again sometime within the month, so don’t worry too much about what to do.”
She held out a black-gloved hand for Sedric to shake. “May we see future horizons.”
He cautiously grabbed and shook it when he stood up. “Uh… may we see future horizons.”
And with that, the woman gave him a nod and went back downstairs, leaving Sedric Ferin, pondering over what had just happened, feeling like a storm had just blown through his home.
----------------------------------------
Vincent intently watched Lucille, who was whistling, walk down the stairs. The girl waved a little when she saw him looking at her, and she smiled. “Sorry to keep you waiting for so long. I’m done now.”
He narrowed his eyes as she used an arm to jump over the bench, dusting her palms when she was on the other side. Walking towards the door and exiting, he followed Lucy from behind once more. They walked down the street at a relatively brisk pace for a while, having a silent journey, before she spoke up.
“Did anything interesting happen in the room while I was occupied?”
“Not that I experienced. It was just dusty and smelt of mildew.” He said a tad dryly.
Lucy clearly sensed something from his voice, as she gave him a sideways look. “That is a common occurrence in old houses, to my knowledge. Maybe it would comfort you to know that as my escort, you would’ve had to remain standing behind me and not sit down anyway?”
“Having a place to sit was not the issue.” He stated.
Lucy gave a short laugh that made him flinch. “And I don’t think it was the musty waiting area you found yourself in either, was it?”
He remained silent, trying to find a way to start saying what he wanted to. Lucille gave a large sigh and turned to look at him.
“I am well aware that a Count’s relative, no matter how young, would have to be an Ascendant. And non-combat nobility classes such as yours all have rather special skills about dealing with social situations and negotiating deals. You had a way of eavesdropping on my conversation with the crafter. So, spill.”
Vincent was about to refute, but the look in Lucy’s eyes told him it was a lost cause, and he inwardly groaned. He took off his glasses, while they headed towards the teleportation array they came from.
“You’ve been in this city for seven days, correct?” he queried. Lucy nodded, so he continued. “So, a week into your leadership of the Faction, you find some obscure building in some obscure district, and go to negotiate a private contract with a Legendary class, the rarest form of class possible, and a crafting class to boot, that not even the Commission’s extensive information network knew of.”
Lucille raised an eyebrow. “Would Ravimoux be that willing to share their information with the other Counties?”
“Not in the slightest chance,” he replied drolly. “However, when it comes to Users with classes at Ancient rarity or higher, it’s in the Faction’s foundational rules that all and any information on them when they enter Gilded Seat is to be reported to the Headquarters for the Counties to become aware of them.”
She nodded, humming slightly in thought. “That is useful information. I suppose it’s so spies can be tracked. And so, what is your point?”
He stared at her, but she only smiled. “Communication is important, isn’t it?”
Vincent pinched his nose bridge above his glasses. “What I want to ask is how can you, an 18-year-old girl, know where to find a Legendary crafting class User, who has apparently only had his class for a year, while being Rank-0?”
“If I tell you it involved time travel, would you believe me?” she asked, smiling. He just scoffed in return, making her click her tongue. “Nobody seems to believe me when I say that. Except maybe that one mage.” She added, tapping her chin with a finger.
He shook his head wryly. “What is the real reason then?”
“You said you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was time travel.” She said, blinking innocently.
He looked at her for a moment and then sighed in exasperation. “You’re never going to tell me the truth, are you?”
“Hmm…” she mused, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then she smirked. “Maaaybe?”
He gave a weak chuckle, more in self-pity than anything, and they continued walking towards the teleportation array. When the white, domed building appeared, Lucille slowed her pace a bit to walk alongside Vincent.
“Sir Evisenhardt.” She began. Vincent gave her a funny look due to the formality but didn’t say anything. She turned to face him.
“You’re the youngest son of the Count’s only son, right? Relatively speaking, you have practically no succession rights.”
He wondered where she was going with this. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “And I don’t want to become the Count if that’s what you’re thinking.” He added, feeling suspicious.
Lucille smirked and waved a hand. “Who cares about that? No, it’s because I have a suggestion for you.”
He raised an eyebrow as he gestured for her to continue, focusing on the conversation intently. He had a feeling what she was about to say was the reason why she had shown such interest and favouritism to him, and he wasn’t about to miss out on an explanation. She gave him a wide smile, holding out a gloved hand.
“How would you like to be my aide?”
Vincent blinked. Then he blinked again. Opening, and then closing his mouth a few times, he then ran a hand down his face. He held out the other to pause any more conversation from Lucy.
“I need a moment.” He replied weakly.
Lucille crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby building, leaving Vincent to his thoughts, pacing around a bit, and tapping a foot on the ground. When he had felt collected enough, he looked up from where he had been staring at the ground in thought.
“Why me?” he began. He hadn’t thought of anything else he could say.
The dark-haired girl pointed to his hair. “I will admit it is partially a political move. Having a direct bloodline relation of one of the Counts by my side will give credence to my words and will be seen as them supporting me. The Evisenhardts also have good financial administration capabilities, which I will need when reorganising the Faction.”
Vincent tilted his head. “Only partially?”
She groaned slightly. “I don’t suppose I could just say I know in the same way I knew there was a Legendary class here….” she grumbled.
“So, with blind, unadulterated confidence?” he suggested.
She gave him a flat look. “You do realise that’s not the best joke to say to a girl who wears a mask over her right eye?”
Vincent stiffened, and looked away sheepishly, while Lucille sighed. “Although technically my right eye works better than my left…” she added. Vincent was curious about that statement, but she shook her head and gestured for him to follow before he could ask.
They began heading towards the teleportation array building once more as she looked up at the sky in thought.
“There is an element of the idea I just can’t tell you about. Not because I’m trying to hide it, but rather because it will make things messy, and some things aren’t worth knowing about until they directly impact your life. You’ll find out eventually, I’m sure, but we’ll deal with it then.”
She stopped looking at the sky as they got closer to the dome-roofed circular building. From where they were, they could now see the shimmering indigo details on the roof, rotating slowly in a stylised visage of constellations and mythical creatures. The All-Aeon Athenaeum always went all out in making sure everyone knew who was responsible for the ‘wondrous’ teleportation system that enabled the Empire to function. Not that any other Faction had spatial magic.
Lucille continued with what she was saying. “Firstly, I suggested this to you, because you have not yet taken up a permanent position within the Faction or your County that would otherwise occupy you. I need someone who can devote their time to doing the tasks I ask them to, and adapt to working with me, without being stuck in the methods of most nobles.”
“Hmm…” Vincent mused. He rubbed his chin, a hand in his pocket as they walked. “So, you needed someone relatively young then. I have seen that anyone past a certain age or who has entered a certain position for too long tends to be rather stubborn. I can understand that.”
She nodded as she gestured to him. “It means I also need someone who can stand by my side as an equal individual, if not in an equal status.” She looked at him intently. “Nobility is filled with those who wish to form connections and cling to higher nobles in an attempt to gain power, usually through fake flattery and masking their true intentions. I can’t have that in my aide.”
She grinned at him. “That was why I tested you when we first met. To see if you could say what you mean without deceit, regardless of the other’s status or position. But I did expect you to last longer. I’m not sure you’re a very good fit for a noble if you’re that impatient.”
He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “Um… my reaction wasn’t really because of you.”
Lucy waved a hand in disregard of his statement. “That much was obvious. But even if that was so, as a mid-ranked noble, you’ve had the training to hide your emotions. The fact that I’ve presented myself as someone friendly enough for you to be open to means if succeeded at my part at least.”
Vincent frowned slightly. Her sentence implied that what he thought was her current personality was just an act… but he’d seen some of the better actors of the Empire, and none of them seemed to be capable of keeping up the same front as consistently as she did. So, what was fake and what was real, and why would she tell him she was acting? Lucille spoke up again before he could think further about it.
“While it’s not a good thing when facing nobility as a whole, it’s what I want. I can’t have someone manipulative and untrustworthy going behind my back. I need what I say to be implemented. I’m fine with someone arguing and critiquing my decisions, suggesting improvements, or pointing out the feasibility of my plans, but I cannot, and will not, have a subordinate who pretends to accept them, and then abuses their power to implement changes that do not conform to the spirit of my plans as well as the physically written rules of them.” She stated firmly. “Do you personally know of anyone who could satisfy my requirements?”
He considered the question for a moment but eventually shook his head. She nodded in acceptance of the silent answer, and they stepped past the crowd around the teleportation building to take the VIP line, using Vincent’s insignia, a silver badge depicted with three gold coins, by showing it to the staff there. Lucy stopped to purchase a newspaper from a nearby paperboy who was selling them to those waiting. She turned to Vincent to continue their conversation.
“This stems from the Faction not having clear divides between the responsibilities of vassal nobility under the four Counties and the responsibilities of a member of the Faction. Automatically becoming a member of the Faction just because of your bloodline doesn’t mean you are capable or even want to, excel in the position you were given, and this occurs throughout the Commission, halting any real future advancement.”
He shifted a bit at her statement. That… made him a little uncomfortable. It was the honour, pride, and obligation of the Counties’ vassals to work for the Faction, taking up a position to contribute to the Faction that protected their livelihoods and supported them with resources and connections to rise to greater heights. It had been that way since the Empire had made them the only official merchant union for nobility, and it had continued to be so even as more nobles gathered under the banner of the Aurelian Commission.
Changing it so those positions were more… professionalised and a matter of ambitious desire rather than dutifully returning the grace of their lords and ladies dishonoured the wishes and desires of the First Counts and the Founder to protect their descendants through unity. Nonetheless, this was about him becoming an aide, so there were other questions to ask first.
“But, even if I had all those qualities you wanted, I’m still a member of the Evisenhardt County first. I could still answer to my grandfather, working in the background to undermine your instructions. And how would you even know if I supported your ideas and plans?” he asked, frowning a little.
Lucy gave a slight laugh. “The moment you didn’t spill all my plans to your grandfather that day, was when I knew you supported them, and in turn, me. Or were at least interested, and saw enough potential in them, that you decided not to ruin any burgeoning relationship between us by mixing in political loyalties. That showed you could be an individual separate from your family and have your own aspirations and desires.”
That made much more sense to Vincent. He nodded his head, even as the line started moving to let the crowd on to the 20-metre-wide luminous violet magic array. Then he jolted, feeling like a lightning bolt had struck him, and he quickly dashed to catch up to Lucy who had gone on ahead to stand on the array.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t read those folders until I had gotten to my private study on the Evisenhardt floor of the Headquarters. That’s at least 15 levels below your floor at the top! How did you know I didn’t tell anyone else about them?! It’s been seven days since then!”
The dark-haired girl paused, looking up from the newspaper she had been reading, to stare at him for a moment, like she hadn’t even considered that. Then she broke out into a cheery grin. “How about we discuss that after you become my aide, shall we?”
Then the circular form of mana below their feet lit up with an indigo glow, causing their vision to swirl as the ground shifted beneath their feet. Many people among the crowded streets of the Gilded Seat stopped to watch the befuddling spectacle of an Evisenhardt noble desperately attempting and failing to get explanations from the black trenchcoated young girl in front of him, who was studiously ignoring him as she read her black and white newspaper.
It wasn’t until a while later that Vincent realised not once had she bumped into a member of the crowd while she had been walking with her head down, supposedly unable to see where they were going.
----------------------------------------
Sedric Ferin focused intently on the violet diadem in front of him on the workbench. Unfortunately, due to certain… interruptions the day before, he had made a mistake while crafting the accessory and had to redo it. While his home was derelict and dilapidated, he did get customers now and then through other contacts, so he had to finish this piece of jewellery. The purple gem in the centre made it frustratingly hard to concentrate on engraving the required mana-circuits for his enchantment work because it kept reminding him of the absurd woman’s eye colour, or at least the one not hidden behind a mask, and therefore his experiences from yesterday. Still, he had delicate work to do, so he had to ignore whatever thoughts he had about that whole debacle and focus on this.
Eventually, the mana-absorbing circuit’s channels had been engraved into the amethyst before him on the oak wood bench, and he could abandon the more boring gem-smith’s tools to start using the expensive enchantment implements that would turn the mineral into more efficient storage for mana, giving actual power to the diadem. He was glad he hadn’t needed to craft the crown’s base, only needing to engrave the channels and fill them with a mana-catalysing binder when the order arrived from a blacksmith because that would increase the complexity far above what making this would be worth in profit. He could create the base as well, by being an all-encompassing ‘accessory craftsman’ instead of jewel smith or specifically enchanter, but the cheap miser who wanted to put a shiny gem on their daughter to sell them to some rich merchant didn’t deserve such effort.
Although, if he was paid enough….
Sedric shook his head to rid himself of any stray thoughts and grabbed the welding goggles hanging around his neck to place them over his eyes, brushing aside his stray dark hair. Then he grabbed the heated binder pen from another bench. Rifling through some half-empty bags on his workshop’s shelves, he found a gem-stone specific enchantment binder that would leave the amethyst appearing like it was unengraved. Customers liked magical items that didn’t show the mana-circle.
He pulled on thick leather gloves and turned the pen on, feeling it heat up in his hand. Then, after adding the hardened binder to the back of the pen, he slowly filled the engraved amethyst with the molten liquid, which quickly adopted the texture and colourisation of the surrounding mineral. Multi-coloured mana fizzled and popped as it streamed into the binder and stone, causing the channels to light up with a glow. It was a slow process.
All of a sudden, the flat, toneless bell below his upstairs workshop sounded out with a loud Ding! and he yelped as the linked alarm bell in front of him started vibrating as well, causing molten enchantment binder to spill out from the pen as he accidentally dropped it, also knocking over some of the equipment on his bench. The binder solidified on the surface of the violet gemstone, giving it a lumpy, misshapen look. He stared at the mess and growled in fury.
“May the Citadel’s blighted Sages get their ravenous, insatiable hands on your miserly fate and feed it to the Dire wolves.” He cursed bitterly.
He then quickly packed everything up, turning the pen off so it stopped leaking binder all over his floor, and he took his grimy goggles off. He stomped down the rickety staircase outside his door, uncaring the disturbingly loud creak his stairs made as he found himself on the atrociously filthy ground floor. He looked to see who the new offender was…. and stared.
“Why are you here?!” he exclaimed, aghast.
There, cheerfully grinning, was the black-haired and mask-wearing Lucille Goldcroft waving a gloved hand in greeting.
“Did you miss me?” she asked.