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Natasha the Halve
128 - Making bank.

128 - Making bank.

A pair of chairs moved from the walls to the desk, stopping behind us.

More invisible people? I wondered and sat down.

Well, to call them chairs would be a disservice. They were the fluffy leathery type. Like a sofa, but not quite.

Bonte sat down and relaxed.

The old Tigea poured tea in the cups and moved two towards us. “Blue Point,” he disclosed with a smirk. “From my own garden.”

“Garden? You?” Bonte chuckled in disbelief.

Étienne raised an eyebrow. “I don't remember you being this insolent,” he joked. “And well...” he took a deep breath and sighed. “I needed a hobby.”

I took my cup and drank a little. “Hmm...” I hummed.

The taste was fruity, full, and earthly. Odd, but nice. I am not a tea person, unfortunately, so the specifics escaped me.

Bonte drank from his cup and nodded. “Delicious,” he praised. “On par with the Royal Palace's tea.”

Étienne smiled and leaned back on his seat. “Naturally,” he bragged. “I started a century ago. I'd be a shame if it was anything less.” He looked at me and gave me a nod. “It seems Your Excellency finds it quite good as well.”

I simply nodded. Anything I'd say would be bullshit, after all. I wasn't about to lie to a man called Grand Master in a place full of Scouts.

“How have things been?” Bonte probed and left his cup on the table.

Étienne nodded a few times. “Pretty good,” he replied. “After Desseyr showed up there was an increase in children wanting to be Scouts.” He turned to me and smiled. “And I'm sure the same will happen with Your Excellency.”

Is this what people mean when they say we Halves influence the world? I wondered. “I hope they choose carefully.”

“Naturally,” the old cat chuckled. “The School we are associated with had to reject over eighty percent of applicants. A tragedy in my opinion, but that's the way of the world.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Bonte nodded with a pensive expression.

“Well,” Étienne took a deep breath. “If a child has a natural disposition to become a Cleric, it's the duty of us adults to guide them there. They might get angry and sulk, but a temporary tantrum is preferable to a life of chasing a less adequate path because of a childhood idol.”

“I see,” I muttered and drank more tea.

The older man turned to the younger. “How about you, my boy?” He asked with a smile. “How's life treating you?”

Bonte smiled. “Great. I met a man I can call my brother,” he shared. “A Performer from Fatiira. Bromisnar is his name. I love him dearly.”

I felt the corner of my lips go up in a smile.

Étienne smiled and nodded a few times. “That's great to hear, my son. Can you tell me a bit about this Bromisnar?”

Bonte laughed quietly and leaned forward. “We met in Wawr Goch, where his performing band would do a few plays. A young Human noble woman got interested in him and invited him to spend the night together.”

Étienne rolled his eyes. “Classic,” he sighed.

What? I looked at both in stupefaction.

“Yeah,” Bonte agreed with a tired sigh. “Bromisnar wasn't having any of it though,” he continued with enthusiasm. “So, he rejected her saying 'Art is the only thing in my heart'.”

Étienne nodded with a smile. “A noble purpose,” he commented.

What?! I stared at my cup.

“The noble was quite young, however, so she insisted,” Bonte chuckled. “Maybe in the low fifties or something like that.”

Wha...? I blinked a few times.

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“Bromisnar had enough and left the city with the performing band,” Bonte continued. “They had hired me to escort them, and we reached the next city. Turns out, the Lady gave chase...”

Étienne groaned and rolled his eyes again.

“Yeah,” Bonte agreed again.

Wh...a...? I remembered everything I had heard so far. Women chase... but that's harassment!

“... and arrived with a group of thirty Humans to take Bromisnar,” Bonte kept going, retelling how he and Bromisnar ran around the city fighting off the noble's people... who were basically kidnappers at that point.

Both laughed and enjoyed the story.

I was deeply disturbed by it.

Bonte finished the story of his bonding with Bromisnar and moved on to share his Chases with him, the groups they joined, and the places they visited.

“And then, we met Natasha in Mountroad,” he concluded the story.

Étienne slowly raised an eyebrow. “Natasha...?” He repeated Bonte's lack of 'Her Excellency' and a smile formed on his face. “I see.”

I shook my head. “He likes them taller,” I commented with a cheeky grin.

“Oh?” The old man turned to the younger with an interested smile. “Ah,” he uttered with a nod. “Could it be the Goliath? Thelea, was it?”

I saw Bonte blush and nod. “We met recently.”

“A capable woman,” Étienne nodded approvingly. “I heard she's a regular in the arena's tournaments, quite fearsome in battle.” He turned serious and looked Bonte in the eye. “I hope she treats you well?”

The catboy nodded. “She does.”

The old man hummed. “Good.” His face relaxed and he smiled. “You've become a good man, Bonte. Loyal to your friends, and now you found love. I'm proud of you, my boy.”

This is so precious, I thought with a smile.

Bonte smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Grand master.”

Both looked into each others' eyes like parent and child, smiling and nodding.

“This old man is satisfied,” Étienne announced. “Let's talk business, shall we?”

Oi! Don't spoil it! I complained in my mind. Even though I don't like the elderly, witnessing such relationships between men is a treat. And even though Bonte and Bromisnar behave that way on the daily, I can't get enough of it.

Bonte nodded and gestured at me. “Natasha has the spoils from the dungeon,” he started. “We gathered around three thousand Luminous Caps.”

I retrieve one such thing from my storage. It was one of the glowing plants that were all over the dungeon. I showed it to the old man and placed it on top of a handkerchief on the desk.

Étienne looked at it and nodded a few times. “Pristine,” he commented and took it, then examined it. “Perfectly plucked, too. Your skill have improved greatly, my boy.”

Yes, that's the good stuff, I smiled at the praise Bonte was receiving.

“What can I say,” the catboy chuckled and raised his chin. “Taught by the best.”

“You cheeky little shit,” the old man laughed. “Market price is at five silver coins for this quality.”

“We also have three Mag-Noyath, full carcasses, level 927, 930, and 935,” Bonte pitched the dead spiders in my storage.

Despite all my efforts, the dead nightmares found themselves in my storage. Safely wrapped in their own web, but still absolutely disgusting.

Étienne's eyes widened at that. “Final floor's Floor Guardians?” He inquired.

Bonte smirked and nodded. “Their fangs are intact,” he added. “As are their poison glands.”

I winced at that. Gross!

“Lovely,” Étienne outed himself a madman.

“We came across an Uv-Lanakh... but...” Bonte looked at me and sighed. “Nothing was salvageable.”

The old man sighed. “A pity,” he lamented.

I scoffed. “It was absolutely disgusting.”

“That, they are,” Étienne agreed, showing he was still sane. “But they are also quite useful to produce potions, Your Excellency. What level was it?”

“620,” I replied.

“Uff,” he winced. “That would've been enough for a few thousand antidotes, and a few hundred vials of poison to kill other monsters.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Or people.”

Étienne chuckled. “A knife to the throat is cheaper than poison, Your Excellency, and is harder to trace. Each and every transaction that will take place in this room will be sent to the pertinent Tax Handler, and will be archived for the Watchers to peruse. If someone uses what Your Excellency sold us to kill another person, we'd end up in court before we even hear of the murder.”

I nodded. “I see. I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

The old man shook his head. “An understandable assumption, considering Your Excellency's age.”

I narrowed my eyes. Old man got a bite to his words. Maybe I offended him a bit more than what he shows.

“Next is spider web,” Bonte continued, choosing to ignore the exchange. “We have around five tonnes of it.”

Étienne turned to Bonte and his eyes widened to the limit. “How many were there?”

“Too many,” I replied. “Way too many.”