“How familiar are you with agreements like the one Chao signed?” I asked Zavira during dinner a little more than a year after the start of the war.
The Force Smith looked up from her plate of MealMaker pasta with a curious expression. “Not very,” she admitted. “I learned about them when I attended my sect’s academy, but I wouldn’t say I’m an expert or anything.” She raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”
“We have a Springheart captive,” I reminded her as I scooped a forkful of pasta distractedly, organizing my thoughts. “As a member of the Springheart family, he really should be able to cancel contracts.”
Zavira nodded. “Hypothetically. But we asked him about that when he surrendered. He wasn’t lying when he claimed he couldn’t just break the contract.”
“Right. But it’s been a year now. None of our captives have done anything to support their contracts. They haven’t worked as promised or actively fought on the family’s behalf. How long should it take for cancellation clauses to become available?”
My friend paused, and her eyes widened slightly. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she said. “There’s always an exit clause, but they vary. A year should certainly be long enough to qualify, though. At least, in most cases.”
I felt a rush of excitement at the news. I’d been mulling over what to do with our captives as the three of us drew ever closer to Tier Five. Aside from sticking them in the prison some of the elites had built, killing them, or releasing them, there weren’t any real options.
Niall had wanted to send them to the prison as soon as the possibility became available, but I didn’t like the idea of putting Chao in the hands of people who might mistreat him. And if I wouldn’t send Chao, it wouldn’t feel right to send the other six prisoners.
I was actually a bit surprised that the other elites had taken prisoners at all, especially with as bloodthirsty as some of them seemed to be.
“We should talk to the Springheart again,” Niall suggested between bites.
The Kastet had gotten a little friendlier as we continued to progress swiftly, but he still maintained an emotional distance. It was almost like he didn’t know how to connect with others, which was kinda sad.
After giving him a few minutes' notice, I Teleported the Springheart Manager out of the makeshift prison. He, like the other prisoners, wore a mana-suppressing cuff on one wrist. A single suppressor wouldn’t stop someone from using mana at all; it just made it significantly harder.
I wasn’t foolish enough to imprison people with magical abilities without taking some preventative measures, but I didn’t want to completely lock down their mana. Doing so for long periods could have negative side effects, and I didn’t feel like the prisoners deserved such consequences.
Even the Springheart Manager didn’t deserve to have his mana system crippled. Maybe if he’d been directly involved in the shadier side of the family’s business, I’d feel differently. But as far as we could tell, the guy had been an outcast – viewed as having little potential or value.
Instead of being nurtured and supported, the man had been installed as a lowly office manager in one of the many Springheart family businesses, where he’d languished for the last few decades.
He hadn’t been one of the scions who hunted people at or above his own tier for amusement, nor was he involved in coercing elites and other crafters to agree to unfavorable contracts.
But he was still a Springheart, and the system acknowledged him as such.
The Springheart outcast looked at us tiredly. “How may I be of service?”
Zavira glanced at me in question, and I nodded. She knew more about contracts than I did, so it made sense for her to take the lead in the discussion.
“When you were captured, you said you couldn’t cancel the other prisoners’ contracts,” she said, stepping closer to the man. “You said you didn’t have the authority to override the terms because you couldn’t pay the fees associated with such an action. Correct?”
The Manager eyed us warily. “That’s essentially correct.”
“Are there any cancellation clauses built into the contracts?” Zavira asked. “For example, if someone rented a smithy but didn’t use it for more than a year and didn’t pay a fee to compensate for the lost sales – because I assume part of the contract is a percentage of any sales – would that justify a Manager canceling their contract to allow the smithy to be rented to someone else?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly. “It-It might. I’m not quite sure how to test it.”
I sent Chao a message and then Teleported him to join us.
“Hey, Chao,” I said with an excited smile. The older Smith returned the greeting with a look of apprehension. “We’re going to see if Mr. Springheart here can release you from your contract since you obviously haven’t been able to keep up with the requirements over the last year.”
The Asian man’s eyes lit up. “I would be most grateful if you could manage such a feat,” he said, giving the group a small bow.
Zavira turned to the Springheart Manager. “Well?”
“I don’t…” The man glanced around. “I need a networked device of some sort to access the contracts.”
Stolen story; please report.
I handed him a tablet. Lisa was fully integrated with the device, so I wasn’t overly worried about the man doing something he shouldn’t.
He quickly accessed the floor’s network and attempted to enter a private site. After several minutes, the man sighed and handed the tablet back.
“I don’t have access anymore.”
I tried to suppress my disappointment.
“Were you able to make verbal contracts before?” I asked.
“Of course, but they still need to be followed up with written contracts.”
“But that’s not a requirement, is it?” I pressed.
The man’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Technically, no. The dungeon still tracks everything. There’s even a section in our family network that lists verbal contracts and the details involved, provided a mana oath is given.”
“So, you could hypothetically cancel a contract the same way?” I asked.
The man looked flustered. “Hypothetically, sure. I guess. But I have no idea how to go about such a thing.”
“I was taught that with magic, intent matters. Why don’t you try with Chao? He obviously hasn’t been able to fulfill his part of the contract for the last year. I’m sure you’re familiar with the details by now,” I said, knowing the prisoners had discussed their contracts at length.
The built-in protection clauses in their contracts had prevented the others from harming the Springheart outcast on more than one occasion when emotions ran high.
I almost felt sorry for the guy.
Chao and the Springheart outcast spoke at length about Chao’s failure to meet the terms of his contract, but the Springhearts’ attempts to cancel the contract went nowhere.
“Why not write up a breach of contract summary, outlining the justifications for nullifying the contract and making it ‘official’?” Zavira suggested. “Then you can both sign it and the dungeon should be able to use that to override whatever existing contract is in place.”
Without a better option, they tried Zavira’s suggestion. Once the summary was finalized, Chao let out a whoop and jumped in excitement.
“I got a system notification that my previous contract is no longer valid! It says I am no longer required to participate in the war!” Chao grinned widely. “It’s giving me the option to rejoin the war on either side,” Chao added before looking at me sheepishly. “I hope you won’t be offended if I decline.”
I chuckled. “Not at all, Chao.” I used Assess on the older Smith and sighed in relief when the information came back neutral. “I hope you don’t mind me having you sign a system-enforced contract of neutrality in the war. I’d hate for the Springhearts to find a way to pull you back in.”
As a participant in an official war, Assess included information about others’ allegiance, marking people as allied, neutral, or enemy. Using that, I could immediately verify he was no longer part of the opposing faction. It proved our idea worked, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind in the future.
Not that I expected him to, but it was something to consider.
“That’s fine,” he assured me.
As soon as I mentioned it, Zavira had started drafting the agreement. Once she was finished, I read over the document and was surprised to find she added a clause that would allow Chao to enter the war on the elites’ side but not the Springhearts’.
It was a good addition, just in case he changed his mind and decided he wanted to fight against the people who’d forced him into a war.
Once the new agreement was signed, we repeated the process with the rest of the prisoners. Only one refused to break their original contract, claiming that doing so would harm her family. Apparently, there were additional clauses in the woman’s contract that provided for her children, who were students in one of the city’s academies.
She remained steadfast in her decision, even after being warned that she’d be sent to the prison set up by the rest of the elites since I had no desire to maintain a prison anymore.
Unwilling to renounce his family, the Springheart outcast had joined her while the newly freed prisoners were taken to the city gates.
Zavira spread the word about our discovery among the elites she knew, hoping they’d make use of the outcast’s willingness to break contracts for those interested.
I had little doubt that once his family learned what he was doing, they’d send someone to assassinate him. Thankfully, that wasn’t my concern anymore.
----------------------------------------
“These are exceptionally well made,” the elite Trader said as he looked over the items being offered.
Niall nodded stoically. “They are the combined efforts of three crafters.”
“I only see two crafter marks.”
“The third is an Enchanter,” Niall said, pointing at the engravings along both the handle and the blade.
We’d started combining our crafting efforts months earlier in an attempt to boost our alternate experience. With how quickly we’d gained regular levels, there was no way for our alternate gains to keep up. Even only needing a single level’s worth of experience, it was simply impossible not to get bottlenecked without some kind of major breakthrough.
We’d all reached the peak of Tier Four, but it had taken another month and a half of almost focused crafting to get the requisite alternate experience to qualify for advancement into Tier Five. Now, we were just selling off the weapons and items we’d crafted during that time to lighten our load going forward.
The only things we kept were items and materials that would easily tier up with our ascension and things that were crafted from the remains of the Tier Five bosses we defeated.
It had taken a bit of coordination to move into different zones, but considering our approaching ascension, there wasn’t much resistance given from the other elites. We needed access to Tier Five materials to prepare for the next floor. The elites remaining on the fourth floor did not.
Zavira and I listened in as negotiations between Niall and the Merchant began in earnest.
Around the prison, a small war camp had been established for elites seeking to exchange goods and services. It was also where one could coordinate with Merchants operating inside the city.
The Springhearts had established their own walled fortress on the other side of the floor, but most of their people stayed in the zones after the first few massacres. The fortress was still a regular target by elites since the family refused to abandon it completely.
They tried to do the same – attacking the prison and war camp – but a few newcomers had brought some amazing wards from outside the dungeon that worked well beyond their tier. The attack was easily rebuffed, leaving the attackers open to retaliation.
It really was a wonder there was anyone else left to fight on the floor. I couldn’t understand why the family’s leadership hadn’t just called it quits already.
“Shall we go?” I asked when Niall returned from his negotiations. We had already tiered up, so all that was left was for us to leave the floor.
During my early research, I’d learned that the entrance platform had an exit portal for those qualified to use it – mostly crafters and others who didn’t fight as their primary form of advancement.
After discovering that fact, I asked Chao why he hadn’t used the portal in the village to leave the third floor. He sheepishly admitted that while he’d known it was an option, he believed using the village portal was akin to cheating for a fighter.
With the war going on, our access to the central village’s arrival platform was restricted, so using a boss portal was our only option.
As I Teleported us right outside the jungle boss’s lair, I wondered how the dungeon would handle our arrival on the fifth floor.