Cosmo bless that thrall. Junior was right. Reading his letter makes me want to sprint to Summer Spire and bludgeon him over the head with a gravestone inscribed with “Here lies Gordon Mason, proud reclaimer of the Mason name and complete ass”.

For someone describing himself as my minion, he is unhelpful to the extreme. You could have burned your letter after writing it and that could have been your release. He wanted me to read it and get angry. Angry enough to act? Even if he has good intentions, he should remember his place.

On the contrary, Fen is proving herself quite capable. I suppose it can’t be helped that Junior thinks little of me when I didn’t see fit to include him in my plans. Though he deserves to be slapped for questioning my gathering of summoning records.

We are summoners, not casters. First and foremost, our proficiency with our craft is determined by our knowledge, not by how much mana we can throw at it, though a large coefficient is always beneficial. The day I stop trying to expand that knowledge is the day I change my name to Lourianne Tailor and give it all up.

He seems to think that I am blowing away the family fortune, but the amount spent on journals and investigating old summoners is negligible. Or at least the ones he’s aware of.

No, most of the money is being spent by the succubi, my true minions, as they investigate my origins.

Cosmo is a god, but he is also an elemental. I want to know what kind. I want to know where from. Crowley Cain, the imbecile who summoned him, simply put in a coefficient >5000 with the celestial affinity and hoped for the best. I’m not foolish enough to think my adoptive father is the only creature throughout the realms to fit that description and the next god summoned amongst mortals may not be as benevolent.

And for that matter…neither may Cosmo.

I’m no fool. My rebirth was nothing but a flight of fancy, a whim. His next whim may be to erase Harvest. Or me. Or the world.

No, I can’t risk summoning him, no matter how gloriously glossy he may be or how powerful I've become. But perhaps I can handle an intermediary. Something weaker from his realm he can send to speak on his behalf. So I can say hello. Say thank you. Ask about this body whose mysteries I’ve barely begun to delve.

For that to happen, I need information and that information is worth more than all of those Grimoire bastards combined.

Better yet, it moves the Grimoire fortune out of the capital. I’m no fool. If thralls stop mind-controlling the nobles and threatening to rearrange people’s memories, they’re going to strike back. Both for the future and the past. I painted a target on Junior’s back and don’t feel a tiny bit of guilt about it. It’s that family’s just desserts.

It may hurt in the beginning but it can’t be helped. Unlike those disrespectful fools, I care more about the art than what I can gain from it. Summoning has been on the decline for generations, a situation that suited them just fine. They wanted to control it. Who can use it and for why.

I want to change that. I’m going to change that. And the first step is to rebuild summoning’s reputation. To show that summoners are more than a bunch of lustful, depraved old men using the mental affinity to keep harems of young girls in their basements.

He wants me to use the succubi to instill fear? He should read some of those records I’m amassing. There are far worse things than the inhabitants of Burning Earth. Creatures that could turn the world upside down. Rip it inside out. Living nightmares that make dubious use of the mental affinity look like a cheap party trick.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

However, one of the first things a summoner must learn is responsibility. We are responsible for every creature we bring into the world, its actions, and the consequences of those actions. As well as the consequences of those consequences.

Refusing to take reckless action doesn’t make me a coward. Caution is ingrained in my bones. I need to know more. Fen thinks that this decree has nothing to do with me or the succubi. I assumed it did after being ambushed during my interview. Perhaps my family’s long vendetta against Junior’s family made it easy to believe someone else would target them.

“If you’ve finished,” Kierra says, drawing my attention, “then I would like you to explain the list to me. I recognize none of the beings on it.”

“Mm.” I set down the two letters and pick up the much smaller folded note that fell out of the envelope. My eyes bulge while reading the names. “Haha, there are some crazy bastards out there. There are still people contracting these things?” I wave for Kii to move closer.

“Alright. First on the list is the golden hen from Adamant Fire Realm. Hehe, you’re going to love this. Damn bird shits gold.”

My wife laughs. “You cannot be serious.”

“Very. This thing? It eats ore alongside its grain. Common metals, even the slag. Stuff they sell by the wagonload for copper. Somehow, the thing does what it does and lays its eggs, like every other hen. Except the shell of its eggs? Gold.”

“That is hardly shitting gold.”

“Yeah, but it sounds better than the long explanation. Made you laugh.” I smile as she chuckles. “Can’t believe anyone has summoned this thing.”

“I am rather surprised everyone hasn’t attempted to summon such a creature. It is instant wealth.”

“That’s the problem. Instant wealth. No one keeps a golden hen for long. No one. The thing is a living gold mine. However, competitors can’t steal an actual gold mine. They can, however, take a slightly bigger than average chicken. If it isn’t taken away by their competitors, then the crown kicks down their door. The summoners don’t tend to survive in the meantime. It’s a bad omen. Then of course there’s the problem with the gold.”

I snicker. “See, the gold isn’t real gold by this realm’s standards, but it’s darn close. Close enough to fool anyone but a well-practiced earth caster. Problem with peckled gold, as its fondly called amongst summoners, is that it’s a bit…explosive.”

My wife blinks in incredulity. “Explosive?”

“Oh yeah.”

“How can gold be explosive?”

“That’s the joy of summoning,” I say with a sigh. “Each realm is full of horrors and wonders. Peckled gold is a bit of both. See, the usual things don’t make it explode. Liquid does. Any kind.”

“That’s horrible.” She says that but she’s laughing.

“It was a big problem. Some noble lady spills her wine on her ring and her hand gets blown off. A merchant gets caught in the rain wearing a nice necklace and gets decapitated. The whole summoning community cracked down on golden hens and most of the records were destroyed. Still took years and many more accidents to get all the peckled gold out of circulation.”

“I want to believe you’re playing with me but I know when you’re lying.”

“No you don’t. I’m an excellent liar.”

She gives me a look as she tilts the paper. “Red-plum viper?”

“That one’s pretty boring. It’s just a snake with some nasty venom.”

“That bird could bring down the kingdom. Surely, this must be more than a snake.”

“Nope. Just a snake. The venom is pretty nasty. One drop can kill a grown man in seconds. Faster than any healer can build a spell. Maybe not faster than you because of your pure affinity but as I’m sure you know, those don’t appear amongst humans. Favorite of the assassin-types.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“They wouldn’t be if there were no stupid summoners. The things aren’t too intelligent but they are malicious. They don’t tend to mention the fact that they secrete a toxin that paralyzes anyone that touches their scales with their bare hands.

“Idiot summoner grabs snake, goes down for twenty or so hours barely able to twitch his fingers. His snake slips out the door and proceeds to kill every living creature that crosses its path. Comes back, paralyzes the idiot again, and resumes its killing spree. Last one that got loose killed a whole town and most of the surrounding wildlife before its summoner died. Definitely doesn’t belong on this list.”

“Lou…its venom means certain death.”

“There are a lot of things that can kill people,” I say with a scoff.

“How quickly you forget being a mere mortal.”

“Being a mere mortal, it didn’t take the deadliest poison recorded in any realm to kill me, so I could care less. If assassins wanted me dead, they weren’t going to use venom that can go for a 1,000 crowns per ounce and is illegal to own. Besides, it’s lethality is directly linked to someone’s stupidity. A thick pair of gloves and it’s as dangerous as a kitten. Now, the next one on the list is dangerous. Dangerous enough I’d actually support this stupid decree if this thing was the only target.”