Glenn felt a bead of cold sweat trickles down his back, an ominous feeling washing over him. He slowly turned his head to see Monsieur Maron staring at him with an evil grin. The young man instinctively tried to grab his axe but nothing was hanging off his belt.
'Why do I feel so scared of him?' Glenn pondered, gulping. The merchant drew a deep breath, before pulling an item out of his vest. It was a long paper scroll that he swiftly opened, reading it out loud for everyone to hear it.
"I, Monsieur Maron from the Maron's Company, hire Fixers for a protection request outside of King's Rise. The rewards will depend on the rank of the Fixer and its reputation. Their mission will be to protect with their lives the investment of the Maron's Company. Depending on the threat encountered, the Fixers will be more or less paid," Maron licked his lips. Glenn raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms together. They had met the worst threat possible, did that mean they were going to be paid more? But why was the merchant reading that? He was pretty sure this was already included in the contract they had signed.
Monsieur Maron took out a monocle, cleaning it a little before approaching his eyes to the paper.
"...In the situation of the Fixers failing to protect the Maron's Company investment, they will be required to either: reimburse the cost of their hiring multiplied by the damage. The damage will be evaluated depending on the cost of additional investment to repair the damages encountered," The merchant finished, smiling voraciously. Glenn took a step back, feeling like he was going to get devoured by Maron. He clenched his teeth and grabbed the contract out of Maron's hands.
"That's bullshit, I've never seen anything close to this—" Monsieur Maron pressed his finger on an almost invisible line on the scroll, hiding with the filigree. Glenn's face reddened, and he looked up from the scroll angrily.
"This...How were we supposed to see this minuscule line?" Glenn blurted out in disbelief. The others resting on their beds perked themselves up since that contract also concerned them. Javier, whose face was already as white as chalk, seemed to pale even further, rushing over to check the contract himself. The Pale Son clenched his fist silently and turned around, sitting back on the bed with a disgruntled expression. That was the most expressive Glenn had ever seen him.
'I suppose money has the same hold over everyone,' The young man rubbed his temple, smacking his lips.
"How were we supposed to know that we were going to fight some corrupted god?" Sahro exclaimed, looking at Maron earnestly. The merchant shrugged, his previous composure and seemingly kind facade gone, replaced by hunger and despair.
"Not my problem whatsoever. What I do know, though, is that the damages were so extensive that I'll have to probably double my investment, while also having to compensate the victims of the accident, and all that because you losers were unable to do your damn job!" Maron lashed out, his eyes bloodshot. Josh was still lost in his thoughts and seemed to care next to none about the merchant, simply hugging his knees in contemplation.
Glenn thought back to the Gold Church recommendation waiting for him and repressed a chuckle. He already fought a god for this damned merchant, no way was he going to keep on working with him!
'I'll just sneak into the Bourgeoisie. It's not my fault if Maron is cursed,' He thought, before feeling the merchant grab his shoulder.
"By the way, Glenn. I heard you were promised a recommendation from the Gold Church for some reason?" The merchant was like a snake, his hold over Glenn's shoulder tightening. The young man's thoughts froze, and he began to pray earnestly that it wasn't going to be the worst case—
"I'm one of the biggest donators in the Fringe, maybe the biggest of them all. That means, if you don't pay your debt back to me, you can kiss goodbye to your sweet departure to the damned Bourgeoise!" Monsieur Maron spat, poking the young man's chest aggressively. Glenn closed his eyes in regret, chewing on his lower lips.
'Wow, did you just jinx it? Isn't that something that's supposed to happen only in movies or something?' Diamanes openly made fun of his host, who did his best to ignore him. Monsieur Maron threw one last glance toward the other team members as if to say that his threats were not only for Glenn but for all of them.
"For now, I'll gather what remains of my workers, and try to build something back so that there is at least something in this god-forsaken village. Enjoy the rest, because I'm going to work you all to the bone. For free," Maron spat, angrily leaving the tent.
"Lefeivre? Lefeivre! Don't tell me you died, you accursed—Ah, there you are!" A scream echoed outside of the tent, before laughing loudly. Glenn rubbed his eyes.
"Well, that might be for the better," He sighed, leaning back into his chair. Sahro chuckled, ignoring as best he could the missing weight at his side. The more time passed, the more evident and disturbing it was.
"At least no one will say we don't pay our debts back. I never thought Monsieur Maron was this kind of person, though," The Black Heir pondered aloud, before sighing loudly. Glenn shook his head, before cleaning his bunk bed with a quick Mundare and laying down inside it.
"We'll see how it goes, I suppose. Let's take this chance to rest," The young man bit down on his lips, worried, "...I feel like we won't have many chances to do so again."
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Glenn and the others stayed in Palancar for two additional weeks, acting as additional troops to guard and watch over the ash-covered ruins of what should have been a profitable brewery and maybe a nice touristic village. Now, the villagers that were still there were all traumatized or cold, on the border of mad, hopeless, and depressed.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The few workers left were originally quite reticent to continue with their work, but a hefty promise of considerable compensation encouraged them to start all over again. By some sort of vicious luck, Monsieur Maron's team was the one that was the least touched, the other companies who had planned to take a foothold in the area were decimated. And so, he achieved without even trying a monopoly over Palancar. He then gathered all the scraps of the other companies for himself, since there was no one left to pick it up but him. These scraps were, of course, reinvested into Palancar, allowing him to cut his losses quite a bit and earning at the same time an incredible reputation with the villagers. Reputation that Glenn and the others shared, as they were recognized as the heroes who saved what remained of this cursed place.
Still, having to promise a raise to his workers made the merchant's heart bleed and, in consequence, worsened his temper. Temper that he would often take out on Glenn and the others, under the pretext that they owed him that much. They almost reacted violently to the abuse, until Monsieur Maron yelled that phrase:
"Each curse I throw at you is one less copper you'll have to reimburse me, so shut the fuck up and get to work!"
Since then, the team had agreed to the consensus of simply not reacting and letting the merchant empty his feelings on their backs. It wasn't that bothering anyway, just a little annoying to support, even more, when the merchant would erupt in the middle of the night and force them out of sleep so they could guard the village one more hour. In addition, they were forced to participate in the reconstruction efforts, particularly Glenn since he technically was the one to destroy it all.
The advantage to all of this was that the foundations of the houses hadn't been hit, and with the advice of Onnea's Church, they managed to modify the village's layout slightly to get rid of the original evil spiral and create something a little more harmonious. The Fallen Mother's Church was burnt to the ground, and its foundations were used to raise Onnea, the Head Priestess deciding to invest in Palancar as well. The villagers were overjoyed at the news since that meant there would permanently be a few Paladins and Priests or Priestesses living there, which was even better than a militia. With them, Palancar's inhabitants all felt reassured about their futures. At least they would have a semblance of protection at all times.
Glenn came to know that three of the Paladins he had played against would stay in Palancar indefinitely. Quint, Malory, and Ferdinand had chosen to remain there, under Astrid Di Fors orders. Glenn was a little surprised to learn that the talented Priestess would remain there, but it was a test Tara Mi Lando had forced on her, and so, the young woman didn't have much of a choice in the matter.
Sahro was still getting used to his missing arm and was trying to figure out how to control his thunder limb—more than once someone was accidentally electrocuted by the thing, making for some comically stupid sceneries. Glenn, on his side, was using every spare second he had to Meditate and create a new Third Circle. The loss went beyond just being unable to use Diamanes' services or using spells mindlessly. His Mana reserves were practically halved, as if sealed, and the strength or efficiency of the spells had decreased noticeably, making everything simply harder.
One night, under the soft light of the ball created by Lux, Glenn was reflecting on how the matter, like he had done for the past nights ever since he lost the thing.
'By the way, don't you think it's a little strange there is no concrete way to create a Circle?' Diamanes suddenly interjected, surprising Glenn. The young man tilted his head to the side, licking his lips with a complicated expression.
'Well, from everything I heard, be it from Redan or what I read from Exan, forming Circles is something that is supposedly done each time someone's Mana reaches a certain point of quantity and quality. There's no way to force it but to try and increase the Mana in oneself,' Glenn explained, wondering what Diamanes' point was. The entity hummed, lost in thought.
'...It just does not sound efficient. I have a hard time believing that most of the research on Circle formation concludes just: "Sit on your ass and, eventually, it will just work".'
Glenn sighed.
'If there was some kind of way to just pull the Mana together and create a Circle, trust me I would use it.'
The young man laid down on his bed, flicking his fingers and cutting off the Mana fueling the Light spell.
'Pulling the Mana together and create a Circle...How would I even do that?' Glenn rubbed his chin, groaning as he turned in his bed to try and find a comfortable position. Once he didn't find one, like every night in this damned bed, he plunged himself into Meditation, stepping into his Mana Heart and staring at the grey rings of runes spinning around the Magellanic Clouds.
"What even are Circles? Simply Mana spinning around? They form when Mana reaches a certain point in quality and quantity, but what's that point? Can't I force it or something?" Glenn talked aloud in the space of his Mana Heart, watching the runic rings hum gently. The young man frowned, feeling as if he had just touched something interesting.
"Wait. The effects of having a new Circle are better comprehension of Mana, bigger reserves, and simply a higher quality of one's magic. Would the Circle be some kind of amplifier of the magic already present in someone's Mana Heart?"
The young man stepped lightly in the emptiness, walking around the Magellanic Clouds.
"If I had to compare Mana to fuel, then, would my Mana Heart be considered a container?" Glenn's eyebrows creased, and he shook his head. No, that wasn't it.
"Let's scratch the car metaphor. Hmm..." The young man's brain cells kept on working, unable to find a solution rapidly. Frustrated, Glenn kept on trying to find explanations, only falling short of whatever the truth was. It simply didn't make sense in the end. Mindlessly, he approached the runic rings, trying to study the runes making it, expecting a headache to assault him as soon as he tried to focus on it.
But surprisingly, nothing hurt him.
Better, he could understand the general meaning of the runes.
"...Gather, Process, Amplify?" He muttered, confused. That didn't help him whatsoever. He disgruntledly snapped out of Meditation, his head lying on the hard mattress.
'Gather, process, amplify. Gather, process, amplify...' These words kept on repeating inside the young man's head until Diamanes made him forget everything he just thought of with the loudest yawn possible. Glenn snorted, before closing his eyes. That would have to wait for tomorrow. Heh, who knows? Maybe he'll have gathered enough Mana to rank back up overnight!
The young man smiled, before sitting himself up suddenly.
"Wait a second. If the answer is to simply have more Mana and of a better quality, don't I just need to find a way to gather it more rapidly and refine it efficiently?" Glenn's lips formed an exalted rictus as his heart raced.
That felt exactly like the answer he needed.
Now, the question was: how the fuck was he supposed to do that?