About fifteen minutes were spent discussing the details of future surveillance. Then we examined the room again, but found no clues, which further convinced me that the thief was an experienced professional, the kind who leaves no traces. After that, we went downstairs and questioned the innkeeper without mentioning the theft. The establishment's owner, like Edi, also hadn't heard anything suspicious. After leaving the tavern, we told Wong what had happened. He focused hard to recall and then said that all the workers were in his sight, and he hadn't noticed any of them leaving. However, Wong wasn't entirely sure about this, so the assumption that the thief might be one of the hired workers couldn't be ruled out. When we moved aside so that no one could hear our conversations, Vidar said:
"It's my fault. We started a large building project. We pay the workers in silver and gold. Obviously, someone figured that if we dared to undertake such a grand construction by local standards, then we have money."
"I'll add," Wong said, scratching his head, "we're outsiders, no power stands behind us, and robbing such 'suckers' might have seemed like an easy and safe adventure for someone."
"I agree." Hjerta nodded. "Maybe someone specifically got a job with us to rob us when the opportunity arose."
"Exactly." Vidar shook his head. "I should have thought about and accounted for that possibility, but I didn't."
"As they say in my homeland," I smiled, "it's good to be as smart as my wife afterward. We're all wise in hindsight, but it's impossible to foresee everything in advance."
"You don't understand, in Edi's cache was all our money, everything that was set aside for the construction!" Vidar frowned.
"Tomorrow we are going to the Spider Grove, it's a Steel dungeon," Edi explained. "If we take our share in gold and silver, instead of the planned spider silk, we can cover the payment for one of the work crews."
"We need the silk." Wong gritted his teeth. "Without it, Lucky's calculations for the sawmill drive will fall apart."
"What is your cash shortfall?" I asked, turning to Edi.
"The day after tomorrow, we need four gold and seven silver. In three days, twelve wagons with volcanic tuff should arrive, which Lucky needs for the foundation. That's another six gold. Then there's the payment for two other crews..."
"Without details, just the total amount," I stopped the accountant.
"Twenty-seven gold and fourteen silver coins," Edi quickly calculated and answered.
"Hjerta and I can sell our chainmail, which will bring in about ten," Vidar suggested.
"Yeah, and then spend twice as much to buy new ones," Wong shook his head.
"We need to last a week, cover the main expenses. After that, we'll pay off the rest with the dungeon loot," Vidar insisted.
The earthlings began arguing about how best to save money, where to cut back, and which tasks to postpone. While they were busy with this, I reached into my purse and counted out the coins.
"Here are fifty gold coins," I stunned the earthlings. "Your refusal will upset me. Return it when you're firmly on your feet." Catching Vidar's bewildered look, I added, "I'm sure none of you will forget the debt, so I don't worry about getting the money back."
"Raven, we can't accept this..." Vidar began to protest, but after a sharp nudge in the side from Edi, he changed his mind and took the money. "Thank you."
"I'll be even more upset if this money changes our relationship," I threatened with a smile. "Right now, fifty gold is a lot for you, but when you reach Opal, you'll easily recoup this amount with a couple of dungeon clearings."
"But you were robbed too," Wong said.
"What was stolen from me?" I smirked. "The cursed cloth I didn't know how to get rid of and couldn't bring myself to throw away? Or the broken artifact that no merchant would buy? Trifles."
In reality, the loss of the bracelet made me quite nervous because I already considered it mine and was thinking about how to restore it. But I didn't want to show the earthlings my true feelings.
"We'll compensate..." Vidar started to say, but I interrupted him.
"When we meet in Pentapolis." I put an end to this unnecessary argument. This amount was inconsequential for me, yet it would greatly help the earthlings.
"I'll remember that," Edi smiled weakly.
"I don't doubt it for a second," I returned her smile, only much more sincere. "But right now, we should focus on something else." My smile turned into a predatory grin. "We need to set up surveillance on the workers."
"I agree with that," Vidar quickly nodded, seemingly glad that the topic of money was fading into the background.
First, we counted the workers "by head" and made sure everyone was present. Furthermore, Wong recognized all the workers and confirmed that there were no new faces among them. Hjerta also went around to all the local peasants and confirmed that they hadn't seen any strangers. Together with Vidar, we went to the future sawmill and explained the situation to Gotlake, who said that none of the diggers had left his construction site since morning. After that, Vidar and I rolled up our sleeves and started helping on the bridge, keeping an eye on our surroundings. An hour passed, then two, and then three, but none of those we were watching started scratching. In the fourth hour of waiting, I gathered the earthlings together and regretfully stated:
"My plan failed. Vidar was probably right, and the thief used something like gloves. I was sure that the locals wouldn't resort to such tricks, but apparently, I was wrong. The curse on the fabric should have taken effect by now, and if one of the workers had touched the fabric, we would have already noticed."
"Then how do we find the thief?" Wong scratched his head.
"The only thing I can advise is to continue observing. Perhaps the thief has a strong immunity, and the scabies will attack him later. But I'm afraid the thief is already gone, clearly a professional who knows his business. And such people, if not caught red-handed, can only be identified when they try to resell the stolen stuff."
"We can search everyone after the work is done," Hjerta suggested.
"A smart thief would have long since buried the stolen items in an inconspicuous place and let the loot sit, then pick it up in a week or two," I countered.
"It pisses me off!" Edi growled. "We were robbed, and we can't do anything about it! I already regret limiting my Mental abilities! We could have thrown a party and then questioned the tipsy workers, and I would have found the liar!"
"Calm down." Vidar placed a hand on the accountant's shoulder and shook his head. "It happens. Instead of getting angry, we should learn from this to ensure it doesn't happen again."
"I agree," I voiced my support for the group leader.
"Yet it still pisses me off!" Edi muttered, but much quieter.
"I suggest we have a bite to eat and think it over again on a full stomach. It's almost dinner time," Wong suggested, rubbing his belly.
"My apologies," I spread my hands, "but I need to continue my journey. I've already stayed with you longer than I planned."
"You're not even staying for dinner?" Vidar was surprised.
"If I leave now, I can reach Westphal while the Gates are still working. If I stay, I'll have to wait until morning," I shook my head.
"And what about your stolen items?" Hjerta asked.
"Of course, like Edi, the mere fact of the theft pisses me off, but I can't afford to spend days looking for the thief. As for the cloth, I was planning to get rid of it anyway. But the artifact bracelet, although broken, is very noticeable to knowledgeable people. Such items were worn by members of the Cult of the Night Huntresses, which is banned in Ain. So if the thief decides to sell it, the first merchant dealing in ancient valuables he approaches will most likely report him to the priests of Antares, and the scoundrel will have a very rough time. So, it seems to me, he will still be punished for this theft, though not by my hand."
"You are strange," Edi clenched her palms into fists. "I want to strangle the bastard with my own hands."
"We will continue the surveillance, and if we find the thief, we will return your things," Vidar concluded.
"If you do find the bracelet," I described its appearance, "under no circumstances should you show it to outsiders. It's better to immediately hand it over to the Artifactors' Guild and receive the due reward."
"Alright," Vidar nodded in agreement.
"And yes, I almost forgot," I demonstratively slapped my forehead, "are the locals asking you where you all, such strange people, came from?"
"Yes," Wong replied, "they ask, but we just tell the truth, and the curious ones get their brains fried by the Sacred Barrier."
"You see, I got really drunk with the locals the other day and came up with a tale that not only the tunnellers believed, but even the priests of Antares and representatives of the Great Guilds. I think it would be good if we all stick to this single version." And I told the tale about the sunken island, which Morpheus had concocted in the Last Cycle.
"The story of Atlantis," Gotlake laughed deeply. "Clever and time-tested. But what should we answer if they ask where exactly our 'home island' was located?"
"That's where you can boldly tell the truth! And let the Sacred Barrier, imposed on us by the questers, do its work," I explained the infallibility of such a tactic.
"I won't promise, but we'll keep it in mind," Vidar evaded a direct answer.
"I'm not forcing you, it's just that, since even the Lisght Priests believed my story, this version does not contradict the local mythology and legends."
We talked for another fifteen minutes, after which Edi escorted me to her room, and while I was collecting my things, she packed me some food for the road.
I had warmly bid farewell to the earthlings, though there had been some tension due to the fact that I had been robbed on their land. I hoped this incident wouldn't be the black cat that ruined our good relationship. Besides, lending money often puts an end to even the strongest friendships. But I didn't regret having helped the earthlings financially; they could have really gotten into serious trouble, delaying payments to workers and burying their reputation as honest people. Such an outcome could have ended all their projects, both those they had already begun to implement and all future ones.
When I left Clayville, I walked across the bridge under construction and once again carefully looked at the workers, searching for signs of beginning scabies. To my disappointment, none of them were scratching. Perhaps the curse on the silk needed more time to work, but I had no time to wait. If the scabies started later, the earthlings would identify the thief.
After moving a couple of kilometers away from the village, I ventured into a small forest and let my anger out. My words to Vidar, that I wasn't much bothered by the theft, were a mere facade; in reality, I was furious. If that thief had come into my sight right now, I would have killed him slowly, leisurely, and painfully. After cutting down and breaking a dozen trees, I calmed down a bit, and when I split several large stones, I felt the anger recede. Not completely gone, but as if it was moving away, staying on the horizon of my attention.
I really didn't need that Night Huntresses' bracelet, especially since it was damaged. I hadn't figured out what to do with it anyway. But it was my thing! My trophy! And someone had deprived me of it. However, anger aside, I also understood that if the thief wasn't caught red-handed and somehow bypassed the curse of the silk fabric, he would likely go unpunished. That's life, and the most unpleasant accidents happen in it. Most likely, the thief intended to steal Vidar's group's cash, and my backpack just happened to be at hand. Such things happen, but why was it so hard for me to accept and forget, even though I lost something I essentially didn't need?
Because of these thoughts, the training in extracting pure prana from the energy flows of the Core was going terribly. Irritation and anger are poor allies when purity and concentration of thought are required. After two dozen failures, I postponed mastering the "True Spirit Armor" until I could fully calm down and began practicing spear kata and the regular Discharge, not forgetting to pulverize the stones encountered on the way with the Rune of Des, simultaneously exercising in Illusion Magic.
I arrived at the place indicated by Edi an hour before sunset. The Small Temple of Ishid, bearing the poetic name "Abode of Pure Thoughts," was situated in a lowland between three hills and was surrounded by swift streams. Around the building itself, which somehow reminded me of the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens, stretched orchard. Apple trees, pear trees, cherries, and sweet cherries - all clearly planted in some system, but one would need to view from the height of the temple roof to grasp it fully.
Stopping before the ornate bridge, barely wide enough for two people to pass side by side, spanning the stream, I stepped off the path and sat down right on the grass. In the mood I was in that evening, visiting such places was shortsighted. It took me half an hour of breathing exercises and deep meditation to finally overcome my anger. Feeling my breath become light and free, I opened my eyes and saw a priest patiently waiting for me on the opposite bank of the stream.
He appeared to be about forty, in the most ordinary clothes without any distinguishing marks or symbols. If not for his rank of Diamond, this person could have been mistaken for a regular acolyte. As there were no other visitors in front of the Temple at that time, he was most likely there to meet me.
Rising to my feet, I gave a short bow and gestured for permission to come to the other side. Seeing a gracious nod, I crossed the bridge, which had seen times before the Fall, and, stopping two steps away from the servant of Ishid, bowed with all due respect. The priest responded with an equally deep bow.
"Raven Alexandrite," I introduced myself.
"Pholop Manel, the abbot of this Sanctuary," the priest replied, naming himself in return. "We have been expecting you."
"Expecting me?" My surprise was genuine; I hadn't even known about the existence of this Temple until this morning.
"Not today," he explained with a slight smile, "but we have been expecting you in general. We received news that the Book, after three hundred years, has chosen a new Sheriff."
"Believe me, I did not ask for this," I frowned.
"That's how it often happens, young man, that's how it often happens," the priest shook his head with a sympathetic smile. "Shall we take a walk?" he suggested, gesturing towards the orchard spread out by the temple walls.
"If you treat me to some apples," my condition was clearly joking, and the abbot understood that.
"I recommend the Noon Sweet variety," he pointed to an apple tree whose branches were bending almost to the ground, so heavy with apples.
At a leisurely strolling pace, we moved on. The priest was a little ahead, and I was half a meter behind on his right.
"Feel free to speak, young man, you probably have many questions about the Book, about Its choice."
"Actually, that's not why I came to you." Apparently, Pholop Manel didn't expect this answer, so he stopped and gave me a careful look.
"Then allow me to ask, Sheriff. What brought you to these ancient walls?" Saying this, the priest picked a juicy apple and handed it to me.
"I am interested in two questions. First," the Rune of Des formed on my palm, "with your permission, I would like to study the Runes. And second, I would like to undergo the ritual of 'Thought Turned Inward.'"
"Unexpected, unexpected, you eat the apple, and I will think about it," the priest of Ishid shook his head.
Obediently biting into the apple, I was surprised at how juicy it was and how it had a uniquely light sweetness. I hadn't eaten such delicious apples even on Earth. Not even ten seconds had passed before only the stem was left in my hands.
"What do you know about Runes, Sheriff?" asked the priest, nodding at the path and suggesting we walk.
"Runes are fragments of the Ancient, Primordial, or, in other words, Divine Speech."
"Good, that answer will do. Then the next question, what happens when you use the Rune you showed me?"
"Hm-m-m. By infusing the Rune with my energy, I activate it, and then the world fills it with its own energy. Speaking of that particular Rune, Destruction occurs to the object I touched."
"You have an unusual way of speaking, Sheriff, but I understand you. And what conclusion can be drawn from what you said?"
"Conclusion?" This question stumped me, making me ponder for more than five minutes. "If we talk specifically about the Rune Des and those like it, then it is an excellent weapon. A magical weapon that consumes almost no energy from the user, making it a very effective tool in a combat situation."
"I am curious where and from whom you were trained, Sheriff, I have never heard anyone structure their speech like that." A sharp wave of the hand. "Don't answer, it's just spoken curiosity, nothing more. I'll phrase the question differently. What is the difference between other magic, such as Elemental, and Rune magic? The fundamental difference."
Heading here, I certainly did not expect something like an exam. But leaving the abbot's questions unanswered would have been unwise. Moreover, his words were genuinely interesting, making me think about things I had never considered before.
"Elemental magic works based on the user's magical energy, while Rune magic requires only activation from the user, and then the Runes operate using the energy of the World." Nothing smarter came to my mind.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
"Good, very good," the priest smiled. "Now, the next question, Sheriff. Is there anything in life that comes for free?"
"No." I couldn't expand the answer; I just felt that this was the right way to respond.
"Correct, Sheriff. Even if the person who received a 'free thing' didn't pay for it, someone else has paid or will pay for it with labor, money, choice, decision, energy..." The priest stopped and looked me in the eyes. "Do you understand?"
"Rune magic is paid for by the world." I already knew this, but I hadn't given much importance to this nuance.
"And once again, you are right," the abbot nodded and continued his leisurely walk along the path winding through the orchard trees. "Many think that we withhold the secrets of the Runes because we are greedy and do not want to share the 'free power.'" A heavy sigh. "But this power, as you have already understood, is not free. With each, as you said, activation of a Rune or Rune Word, a part of the energy is taken from the world. Indeed, Ain itself is the most powerful source of energy, but our world's ability to self-recover is not limitless. A dozen, a hundred, even a thousand adepts of Rune magic will not affect the balance. But ten thousand will drain our world, depleting all the Magic. Of course, this will not happen immediately; it will take years, possibly decades and centuries, but it will happen. People... We are greedy, and no one will refuse 'free power.' Sheriff, could you give up using Runes?"
"That would be difficult," I answered honestly.
"Even you, Sheriff of the Book, wouldn't refuse, so what can we say about others?" A knowing and slightly sad smile crossed the priest's lips.
"But you yourselves... The priests of Ishid use Runes in your rituals."
"That's true." Without arguing, the abbot responded. "But we do it with a full understanding of the consequences. You see, Sheriff, you yourself said at the beginning of our conversation what Runes are. Runes are the True Speech. Speech, not a weapon or a fragment of magical constructs. And only we, humans, have turned this miracle into a weapon."
"Dwarves also use Rune magic." I countered.
"Your knowledge is surprising, considering how young you look." The priest of Ishid shook his head. "Dwarves use Runes differently than we do, and they pay much, much more for their activation than humans do."
I didn't know this nuance, and now I felt a bit like a student facing an exam question they hadn't prepared for.
"Yes, I use Rune magic," I decided not to dodge and spoke directly. "But that is not my main goal. I want to Comprehend, I want to learn to Read!"
"I believe." After a brief pause, the abbot replied. "I believe you, Sheriff. And to those capable of Reading and Comprehending, we, as well as the followers of Aerad, unlike other priests of the Pantheon, do not refuse."
'To those capable of Reading and Comprehending,' - apparently, he referred to those with at least four Talent Stars in Runes. So, such people on Ain are one in a hundred thousand or one in a million?
"Are you capable?" the abbot clarified.
"Not yet, but I..."
"You are a smart person, Sheriff, and you have already guessed what answer you will get."
"When you become Capable, then come..." I sighed.
The priest's lips broke into a quiet but sincere laugh.
"The Book has always chosen unusual people, that's what the chronicles say, and now I see it with my own eyes. You are a very unusual person, Sheriff." If only he knew how much.
"Is the mass use of Rune magic really so dangerous for Ain?" This was not an idle question for me, as I had encouraged other earthlings to study Runes, not realizing what consequences this might lead to.
"Long ago, before the Fall, everything was different. Now... the Divino Stairway is empty, much has changed. It's as if the world's connecting axis has been pulled out. Ain has been severely ill for two thousand years, like a person whose spine, which was the Gods to the world, has been removed." The priest shook his head and added, "You won't read these thoughts in sacred texts; these are just the reflections of an ordinary servant." Well, ordinary, sure, on Diamond, no less! The priest must have realized he'd said too much and quickly changed the subject. "We'll talk about the Runes later if you wish. But for now, let's clarify your second question. Why do you want to undergo the Ritual and impose restrictions on yourself?"
"It's personal."
"And yet?"
"It's a matter of free will. This freedom is a gift to humans, and mentalists, by imposing their desires, thoughts, and commands on others, violate this free will. For me, mental suggestion is a far greater sin than physical slavery."
"And you?.."
"Because of my principles, I will not use Mental magic to influence others."
"But?"
"I also don't want to completely abandon Mental Magic. Because its other side, the one turned inward, involves enhancing meditative practices and managing internal energies." The priest clearly expected something more, and I added, "And additional protection against foreign suggestion would not be superfluous for me."
"Thank you for your honest answer," the servant of Ishid nodded. "And yet, may I ask a few more questions?"
"Of course..."
We strolled through the garden for another two hours, and all this time the abbot tortured me with his questions. On my way here, I thought my Sign of the Sheriff of the Book would be enough, but everything turned out to be much more complicated. During the conversation with the priest, I had the feeling that if I answered even one of his questions incorrectly, I would be denied the ritual, despite my status. Edi somehow kept silent about such interrogations, or perhaps she wasn't subjected to them. The girl also forgot to mention that the ritual was conducted only at dawn, which meant I hurried here for nothing.
The questioning ended, and we simply talked almost until dawn. It wasn't that I learned anything fundamentally new, as I did at the beginning of the conversation, but I started to see some things differently and understand the priests better. They really did serve the world and the people. Additionally, through their prayers, rituals, and offerings, they did everything they could to prevent the Echoes from completely fading away, which, according to the abbot, would lead to the End of Times and the total destruction of Ain. However, he did not insist on this opinion, emphasizing that it was not the official position of the Pantheon.
Having had his fill of talking, the abbot gave me permission for the ritual, which was conducted with the first rays of the sun. I remembered very little. Only the pain. Unbelievable pain. It was as if my fingers were being cut off and then sewn onto different places. Cut off again and sewn on again. The ritual itself lasted only half an hour, but it felt like days to me. Days full of pain and suffering. By the way, Edi didn't mention this nuance either.
The priests, seeing my broken state after the ritual, offered me a place to rest and recover. But I, barely moving my legs, refused. I had already spent too much time there. I don't remember how I said goodbye to the abbot; everything was like a blur. I just crossed another bridge and headed east. Slowly, staggering, with my head splitting from pain. Everything around me seemed somehow unreal, artificial.
How out of it I was became clear only when I crossed the Gates. I don't remember at all how I got to Westphal, or how I walked through the city. I said something automatically, nodded, paid, even haggled and knocked down the price... But I don't remember the details. However, as soon as I entered the Gates, it was as if some sort of healing blanket enveloped me. The pain and numbness dissolved, faded away, leaving behind only fragments of memories.
I stepped out onto the gate platform, already fully back to myself. I greeted the priests of the God of Paths, entered my name in the arrival book, and didn't forget to generously pour gold into the amphora for donations. It seemed to me that it was Sundbad's Echo that put me back in order, and the gold was a small price to pay for such support.
Without stopping anywhere or entering shops or taverns, I left Minber and headed to Bordum. Stepping off the trade route, I listened to myself. Something inside me had definitely changed. It was not yet clear what, but there were changes. I felt them but could not grasp. At the same time, I did not notice that my mind started working better, as it did with Edi. The ritual, it seemed, had affected me differently. I did not become smarter, that's for sure, but I began to feel the flows of energy throughout my body and in the Core much more profoundly and clearly than before.
To check if I was imagining it, I tried to draw pure prana. And this time, everything worked out so easily, so naturally, as if I had spent years in deep meditation, honing this skill. The prana flows obediently swirled, following my will, forming a familiar pattern. In a fraction of a second, my hands up to the elbows were covered with a silvery glow of the "True Spirit Armor," visible only to me.
Oh! Wow! What a breakthrough! I expected to achieve such progress no earlier than two or even three weeks from now. After repeating the process three more times, I realized it was no coincidence. Then I tried to charge the "drum" of the "Mitrailleuse," and again it was much easier and almost twice as fast as before.
Definitely, undergoing the ritual of "Thought Turned Inward" was worth it! As for the restrictions I placed on myself regarding Mental Magic, I was not joking or lying when I said I did not plan to use Mental to influence other people. I was truly repulsed by the very idea of digging into other people's heads and breaking their will that way.
However, I do not consider all mentalists to be bad people. In some cases, their skills and abilities can be very useful. Especially in investigating crimes or, on the contrary, proving someone's innocence. And some manifestations of Mental Magic, such as heightened empathy, can be very beneficial to healers or merchants.
The thought of punishing the guilty stirred memories of being robbed. However, unlike yesterday's burst of anger, now it only caused a manageable irritation without any particular desire to find the thief and deal with him harshly. No, if he had been caught by me, I would have gladly torn off his hands and shoved them up his...
To avoid fixating on this topic again, I returned to training. Repeatedly performing familiar exercises, I became convinced that my control over internal energies had reached a higher level. Something similar happened when I received the Adamantium Body Achievement. I definitely need to visit the Temple of the Pantheon and perform the Ritual of Self-Knowledge. Apparently, like Edi, I had gained half a Star in the Talent of Mental, reaching a solid, though not yet fully filled, four.
When there were about ten kilometers left to Bordum, clouds blanketed the sky. It began to rain, initially just drizzling, but soon turning into a full-fledged downpour. I had to speed up, temporarily forgetting about training.
Entering the city gates about two hours before noon, I asked the guards, who were hiding from the torrents of water pouring from the sky in the gatehouse annex, where the nearest clothing shop was. After getting directions, I ran to the specified address and bought the simplest cloak with a deep hood. It did little to protect me from such a downpour, but it was at least some protection, and more importantly, the chainmail wouldn't get even more soaked, so I wouldn't have to treat it with smelly oil to prevent rusting.
The rain was so heavy that I even considered waiting it out in a tavern. What stopped me was that there wasn't a single break in the clouds, meaning the downpour could last until evening. So I had to head to the Artifactors' Guild, moving in short bursts from one canopy to another.
Running up the branch's stairs, I went inside and closed the door tightly behind me. Whether it was due to the raging storm or some other reason, there were no visitors in the main hall. Only three artifactors were loudly arguing at the counter.
"I don't care," snapped the not-so-young representative of the Guild angrily, "that Shaym is sick! My shift ended three hours ago."
"And yet, esteemed Itran, we currently have no one to replace you, and I strongly urge you to work an extra shift." Apparently, this was not the first time the Sapphire mage - most likely the head of this branch - insisted on his point.
"Sir Citas," the employee who was being forced to work overtime bowed formally, "look out the window; in such rain, we won't have any visitors. As for sitting at the counter, even she can do that!" The one called Itran nodded towards a young Bronze-ranked girl of about twenty who was standing quietly nearby.
"Milora hasn't passed the internal regulations exam yet," the head countered, "and according to the rules, she is not allowed to receive visitors."
"Sir Citas, I had my own plans for today. I really need to... Can't that slacker Shaym call the priests of Ishii? I don't believe he's sick just when I need to leave the city for a day. Sir Citas, I'm sure he pretended to be sick just to spite me!"
Realizing that this argument could last a very long time, I cleared my throat, drawing the disputants' attention.
"Esteemed Itran, I heard you, but I must insist." The head of the branch firmly commanded and nodded at me. "Now, don't disgrace the Guild and attend to the visitor."
"Om Raven Alexandrite," I introduced myself, approaching the counter. "Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all!" The Sapphire mage spread into a formal smile. "We do not refuse clients. And please accept our apologies from our entire Guild for you witnessing this... scene." Having finished speaking, he glanced disapprovingly at Itran.
The head of the branch bowed briefly and was about to leave when I stopped him.
"Sir Citas, I'm afraid my business will require your attention as well."
"I'm listening," the head of the branch, sharply turning on his heels in a military manner, stared at me.
"I would like to turn in Dark Artifacts and receive the due reward for them." To confirm my words, I laid five bundles from my backpack on the counter. "Apparently, a ritual bowl, a dagger, a ring, a staff, and a strange cover. All of this was found by me in one of Nulgle's dungeons."
At the mention of the Plague deity's name, the girl and the employee recoiled from the counter, while the Sapphire mage, on the contrary, stepped forward and stared at the bundles with interest.
"The fabric protects against dark emanations," he said with curiosity. "But it's of a cheap kind." The mage ran his hand over the bundles. "In another day or two, it will no longer hold back the Darkness." Looking at me, he added, "You arrived just in time. Shall I take the artifacts for evaluation?"
"Of course." I nodded in response.
"Then in half an hour, I will return and announce the payments due to you, esteemed Om Raven Alexandrite."
"That suits me perfectly."
"Excellent," the branch head, with the joy of a researcher who had come across things of interest, scooped up the bundles. "In the meantime, so as not to waste your time, our employee will prepare all the documents." The mage gave Itran such a look that he did not dare object and, with a heavy sigh, sat down, pulling out sheets for records. "And you, esteemed Milora, can observe the proper drafting of the documents, provided the client does not object."
"I do not object."
Hearing my response, the Sapphire mage beamed and, striding widely, disappeared into the back rooms.
"So," Itiran said in a quiet voice, like a condemned man, "Om Raven Alexandrite..."
"Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild," I added, and the Artifactors' Guild employee obediently wrote it down.
"Where did you discover the dark artifacts?"
"Wootz Rank Dungeon 'Bogash's Tomb'."
"Did the local group of tunnellers deliberately conceal the presence of Dark artifacts in the reporting area?"
"No, the artifacts were hidden by a Sacred Barrier, and none of the local group possesses the talent to see the Hidden," I replied clearly.
Itiran's gaze was full of doubt, so I invoked the Affinity with Light and repeated my words verbatim.
"Please excuse my doubt," the guild worker immediately responded, burying his gaze in the records.
Next came the fairly formal questions. Just like on Earth, bureaucracy in Ain flourished wildly. Especially when it came to manifestations of Darkness. Nevertheless, thanks to Itran's professionalism, we managed fairly quickly, about twenty minutes, no more.
"Could you tell me what happened to your replacement, Phoenix Shaym?" I asked.
"How do you know his name?" The Artifactors' Guild worker immediately became wary.
"During my last visit to your branch, it was he who took my order."
"Oh-h-h-h." Itran exhaled with obvious relief. "They say he fell ill."
"But you don't believe it." I looked at him with sympathy and added, "Phoenix seemed to me to be a young man with his own agenda."
"His own agenda?" My interlocutor bared his teeth. "His 'agenda' is just wench... girls," he corrected himself, glancing at the young apprentice, "and wine. Cunning and slippery, like an eel! But Sir Citas values him for his bargaining skills."
"Fell ill, you say? Strange, two weeks ago he seemed like a very healthy young man to me."
"That's what I mean!" Leaning back in his chair, Itran shook his head. "Healthy as a bull, yet suddenly he falls ill, and on the very day when I need... And he didn't even come up with a serious excuse. No, the best he could think of was to claim he suddenly got scabies!"
"Scabies?" I repeated, feeling my throat dry up and my palms involuntarily clench into fists.