The room was positively swamped.

Lukas found himself in a rectangular chamber whose high walls burgeoned with ancient, leather-bound tomes. Additional freestanding bookshelves jutted out of the walls like ribs, interspersed with metallic radiators that clanged and hissed, giving the room the eerie sense of being alive. The hall, if it could be called that, was only moderate size, like maybe a city hall. Shadows sprawled all across the room, the bluish lighting from the crystals only exacerbating the Asukan nightmare. But Lukas was no Asukan, and he hadn’t sent these guys the memo, so there they were. He could compare the scenery with a badly-lit motion picture of the sixties.

He stood before thirteen svartalfars, all of them looking just a tad if not equally monstrous as Dvalinn, sitting on majestic thrones placed in a semi-circular arc. Dvalinn in particular sat third from the extreme right. Behind Lukas stood an entire cohort of soldiers— armed and ready, with their pointy weapons aimed for his vital points. Tanya stood several feet away from him, surrounded by soldiers, their deterrent against him trying to pull off something reckless. Lukas could understand all that, but seriously, couldn’t these guys have arranged for a chair for him to sit?

Talk about being uncouth.

Feeling more bemused than intimidated by their methods, Lukas strode up towards them, entering the private space, just enough to be recognized as an intrusion, but nothing that could generate immediate concern.

Pausing a moment to breathe in deeply, Lukas gathered his power. Both lifeforce and ether rose in him, generating an instant apprehension among the audience. A petty psychological trick, but one that reversed the intimidation on these ‘old men’. Not that he was planning on taking any of them head on. No sir, Tanya had drilled that sort of Earthly foolishness out of his remarkably dense skull.

Rule Number One of living in this world— Never fight an old man.

Back on Earth, old age represented a loss in physical prowess, and a dimming of intellect, stamina and perception. But in this world, Age was literal proof that the guy in front of you had leveled up for longer than you did, and probably had way greater skills and experience than you did. Old people were the ones that had ‘been there, done that’ and lived to tell the story. It didn’t automatically translate to strength or power output, but chances were that an older opponent was better, more energy-efficient and in general, more experienced than a younger guy.

“Gentlemen,” he commenced, turning abruptly towards Dvalinn. Focussing on one of them took away the advantage of numbers. Another petty psychological trick, but one that worked in his favor. Also, he had held conversation with the guy before, so he could address him without giving the impression of targeting him out from the entire group.

“I believe you already know what I’m here for. But before we continue, I just want to clarify that what I am to share with you must be kept in the strictest of confidence. Are we in agreement?”

“Even from the Empire?” asked one of them.

“Yes.”

The councilmen gave tacit acquiescence. Lukas didn’t really care, especially given that this was all for show.

“I am here today, with my associate,” Lukas began, “because we made a discovery I believe you’ll find startling, and might I be so presumptive, very profitable. It is something that can drastically change everything for both myself and my associates, and your Nation. If this information is leaked out, it can affect the world in a, shall we say, profound way, causing a shift that could only be described as disruptive. At this moment, there are only five people that have the information I’m about to reveal to you.”

One of the councilmen sighed loudly, sounding more bored than concerned. “Very intriguing, but get to the point.”

Lukas glanced at the soldiers all around him, and reached into his pouch to pull out a tiny, stoppered vial, containing a single shard of featherglass inside it. As it turned out, the crystal was ferromagnetic, and a proper application of mana was enough to keep the crystal floating in the middle without touching the surface.

Terramancy was useful like that.

He appraised the creatures before him. “This,” he began, “is featherglass. The commercially available variant is usually sixty-two, to sixty-nine percent pure, depending upon how much you’re willing to spend.”

Blank, bored looks met him.

Time for the show.

He raised the vial above his head. “This one, in my hand, is more than that. Much more than that.”

Dvalinn squinted at him. “That is impossible.”

“Only until you verify my statements.” Lukas matched his gaze. “Surely that is within your power?”

An oppressive silence settled over the room. Lukas felt several penetrating gazes centered on him, in a sudden, pointed silence. Finally, one of them spoke in a low voice. “True. That can be determined.”

“Wonderful!” Lukas replied in mock cheer, and flung the vial towards them. Every single svartalfar in the room inhaled loudly, several of them reaching out to it. A female member among the Council raised her hand and it froze in midair before floating towards her.

“Careful,” she hissed. “If what you say is true, this is priceless.”

“Yes,” Lukas said. “I’m glad you agree.”

He thought he heard a choking sound somewhere. He wondered if it was Tanya.

The old svartalfar looked at him a long moment before grunting. Then she tapped the vial and muttered something under her breath. Lukas strained his ears, but the loud mutterings all across the room made it hard to catch. The pendant tried to translate it and threw up a bunch of contradictions. Lukas wasn’t sure if it was a flaw in the enchantment design, or simply because of his own limitations.

“This is impossible—”

“Where did you get this?”

“Has to be a trick—”

“Goddess-Chosen, playing us for fools—”

And so it went.

Lukas looked around dispassionately, waiting for the mutterings and exclamations to settle down. Svartalfars by nature, were rather fussy so getting into even one of those questions would get him stuck in a twenty-thousand question-answer setting and he wanted to avoid that. Plus, he wasn’t an expert, so the less he spoke, the less chance for him to say something contradictory.

Finally, Dvalinn stood up, and the rest of the room fell into silence.

“This is quite unexpected, Stranger,” He said, “You show us something we didn’t believe existed. That should not exist. ” He met Lukas’s eyes. “What do you wish for? Weapons? Armor?”

“An agreement.”

“What sort?”

Lukas folded his arms. This could make it or break it. Clearing his throat out loud, he addressed the svartalfar. “It’s true we hold more of it. And unlike the sample your people have verified, our collection is pure, and untainted by any kind of spiritual information.”

Dvalinn tilted his head and regarded him in perfect silence, somehow implying his annoyance. “Do not waste our time. How much do you have, and what do you want in return?”

Lukas smiled through his eyes. “As I was saying, my associates discovered this featherglass. Because of unforeseen circumstances, we only managed to procure a limited portion of it.”

“Fine then,” said someone among the Council, “The location then. What do you want in return?”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Hasty, aren’t they?

“I could tell you the location, but it means nothing. The origin of these priceless crystals is now gone, and whatever we have is the last of it, making it even more rare.”

“And how much is that?”

And there was the first obstacle. “Around… half a kastrian.”

Assuming the value for gravity wasn’t different and all of this Leveling-Up hadn’t fucked up his perceptions, one kastrian was roughly equivalent to a little more than maybe fifteen pounds.

“Half a—” Dvalinn snarled, “What travesty is this? I warn you that this mockery—”

“It’s no mockery,” Lukas said quickly, “I know perfectly well that the content we have is… far from abundant. But you are svartalfars, the most industrious craftsmen in the world. If there is anyone that can reverse-engineer this and mass-produce it, it’s you. All we ask is a percentage of the production.”

“If it happens,” said the female.

“When it happens,” Lukas corrected her.

The female looked at him and snorted. “I’m conflicted between laughing at you, and taking offense at such a display of stupidity. You want us to reverse-engineer an impossible specimen like this, from such a minuscule amount, and then divide whatever success, if at all, with your kind?”

“This is a waste of our valuable time,” said another member, standing up. Lukas felt his mouth getting dry by the second. Clearly if he didn’t say something useful, the situation would get out of hand. But trying to convince these guys wasn’t going to help. If he wanted to get something out, he’d have to play hardball.

And he had definitely learnt the hard way, more than once, that all work and no play made Lukas a merciless bastard. Was that a bad thing? Maybe yes, maybe no— maybe likely somewhere in between, in the details, alongside the Devil and his deep blue sea.

“Fine!” He tried to look crestfallen. “You got me. What was I thinking? Clearly this featherglass isn’t as great as we thought it to be. Good thing I asked my associates to give the rest to the Empire in case they didn’t hear from me in four days. I mean, really, maybe the Emperor will find it worth his time.”

That got a reaction. Lukas made sure there was a smile on his face.

“I imagine whatever little you have could be exchanged for a price—” Someone began.

“Oh come now,” He said cheerfully, “I’m giving you something priceless. You said so yourself, when you caught it remember? The least you can do is stop trying to pretend otherwise.”

He cut the councilman short, eyes blazing and voice strong and sure. Power surged within him, flaring all around him like a protective cloak. The Blob moved restlessly, shifting over his front and back, stirred by his heightened emotions. The svartalfar he was dealing with had eyes as wide as saucers, and his mouth worked soundlessly even as his clawed fingers twitched madly.

“And listen,” Lukas snapped. “There are two ways we can go about doing this. The first is the messy way, where you can pretend this is all useless and try to attack me and Tanya. In which case, all of this place,” He twirled his finger above his head, “is going to be one big mess. Maybe you’ve the home advantage and maybe your army can overpower us, but what then? Do you think it’s worth risking the Empire knowing about it?”

He let that one hang for a moment.

“Or,” Lukas breathed, “We can all behave in a civilized manner and discuss how we can possibly try to make this deal beneficial for both parties, preferably before you attempt to have me hung, drawn and quartered.”

The svartalfar closest to him was glaring with pure and unguarded hatred.

“Lukas!” He heard Tanya hiss. “What are you doing?”

An entourage of several soldiers moved in, swords and spears drawn, while the sudden shuffling behind him promised a similar movement behind his back.

Lukas didn’t care. Lifeforce surged within him again, as did mana, only twice as much, thanks to the uber-costly fractals. He was not the young man they thought he was. He was something more, something different. He was the Warmonger, a title bestowed upon him by an entity larger than these creatures had any right to comprehend.

He was the power in this room, and he made sure the svartalfars knew it.

“Wait.”

It was Dvalinn. The creature took a step closer towards him. In response, Lukas put on his most uncaring facade.

“Tell me, Stranger, do you think it wise to make an enemy of our Nation?”

“With all due respect, svartalfar, all I’ve done is offer a proposal. Do not blame me for your men trying to turn me into dinner.”

He thought of using the Dranzithl’s murderous aura, but it’d probably be overkill at this point. Seriously, he was getting overdependent on slime-based skills. The dranzithl and thoggua had disgustingly useful skills, but sooner or later this over dependence was going to land him in trouble.

“You have no idea what you’ve done today, do you, Stranger?”

Oh he had a very good idea. But he let Dvalinn have his say.

“Control is the heartstone of the Asukan Empire. This featherglass, unlike what the Empire has, can change everything. The purity you have shown us can store not just information, but souls. With this, the Empire could become exponentially stronger. Conversely with this, Svartalfheim can become powerful enough to challenge its authority. And yet, here you are, offering this to us, knowing this could mean war, rebellion and all manner of profitless destruction. Why?”

Lukas smiled. The stick had done its job. Time for the carrot.

“Why is inconsequential. What matters is that we have a way of acquiring more of this… sample in small and steady amounts, if only for research purposes.”

He was not technically lying given the fact that the featherglass was created by the anomaly he consumed. It was just unavailable to him right now.

Dvalinn eyed him speculatively for a moment. “If that is so, then why are you here? Even in small amounts, you could make a killing by selling it to the Empire.”

Oh yes, he had certainly grasped his interest.

“We could, but then we’d become indentured to the Empire. We’d rather hedge our bets on a race that has the best chance of reverse-engineering this.”

A little flattery went a long way sometimes— catching more svartalfars with honey, and so on…

Dvalinn sat back upon his throne, and tapped the tips of his fingers together, glancing at him. “You’re skilled at putting us in quagmires, Stranger. You bait us with a priceless treasure, and go out of your way to make it appear reasonable. For the power to entrap souls, what are you asking in return?”

And just like that, Lukas knew he had gotten Dvalinn. The trap was set. The bait was taken. At this point they couldn’t pretend it was worthless in any amount. It was now time for the finisher.

“Oh, quite reasonable things, I assure you. Apart from ten percent of whatever featherglass you produce, provided you can reverse-engineer it, four things really, and weighed against everything we offer you, they are quite reasonable. I just want one simple tool, one simple transaction, one simple clause and one simple favor.”

“How reasonable,” Dvalinn said dryly.. “Well, we’ll see. The tool?”

“I’ve had first-hand experience with those wardstone pillars you have outside. I believe they can harvest natural energy from the world and use it to fuel everything here. I want one of those things, coupled with everything it needs to work.”

Dvalinn’s eyes glittered, which Lukas guessed wasn’t a good thing. “Our wardstone technology is magnitudes above what Asukans have. We cannot simply hand it over to you. The loss would be… incalculable.”

Lukas could work with that. “Of course. I’m not saying I’d take it with me. It can stay within svartalfar territory. I only require its services for… say, the next ten years. I’d be willing to travel all this way to use it, provided the Nation allows me to do so unrestricted.”

“Luk—”

Dvalinn’s eyes gleamed. This was a bait too tempting to pass up, and being so generous also added weight to his claims, as well as built up a trust that had kind of collapsed when these guys had sentenced him to death some minutes ago.

“I wonder,” The creature whispered. “Even with a kami capable of absorbing power, I cannot fathom what you plan to do with it.”

Oh he had plans. Plans that involved absorbing enough power to attempt the Rollback Protocol on his Blob. With mere 47% chances of success, there was no way he’d be willing to bet his reserves on it. No, these pillars would be a welcome substitute for it, even if it required him time and effort to travel all the way to that place, and sit and recharge himself.

Over and over. Until he got it right.

And when he did, he would be able to manufacture featherglass by himself. And it would also get him entry into svartalfar society.

“I believe we understand each other, Stranger. We shall have a separate one installed for yourself. As long as it is you and you alone that uses it, we have no issues. Now, about the other three?”

“The transaction next. We want an exclusive job contract with you for the next ten years. Fifteen percent commision on whatever loot we bring. Sound reasonable?”

Dvalinn nodded. “Unexpected, but reasonable. I assume you’d want the agreement in writing before you leave?”

“That’d be splendid.”

Lukas smiled. “Third. The Clause. It’s obvious that I’m the primary party in this deal. As such, the contract cannot be changed without my express permission.”

Dvalinn tilted his head. “ You fear your own accomplices will betray you?”

Inanna’s words came to mind.

“Trust breeds betrayal,” he said, “and betrayal has nothing to do with my friendship with them. It’s a simple fact of survival. Life is harsh, and if you want to survive, you’ve got to be practical.”

“I see. Easily managed. And the last?”

“A favor, yes,” He said, looking around. “In the unfortunate event that I, or my accomplices, feel threatened by the Empire in any form, we seek the right to asylum within your territory for an indeterminate amount of time.”

Lukas supposed he was doing pretty good so far, all things considered. His throat was a little dry from all the bullshitting, but he was nearly done now.

“So,” he asked Dvalinn. “Do we have an accord?”