A soul deal: a contract limited to two parties, where both sides engage themselves to provide something, the specifics must be clearly defined by both parties so that each party has a proper understanding of what is entailed. If death occurs before the completion of the deal, the soul of the deceased is consumed by Osal—it will be treated as a breach of the deal—and the offended party will be compensated. In the unlikely circumstance that both were to die at the same time, without leaving descendants, the souls would simply be consumed. The most important rule, neither party can be involved directly or indirectly in the cause of death—outside of the scope of the service provided. Osal won’t ever fall to the rungs of a lowly thief. Outside of these rules, one could try to game the system, but it should be highlighted that it doesn’t typically end well.

Osal, A Cunning but Irresistible Temptress

Ansem looked at Gowther, shaking his little finger, both their bloods being spilled to seal the contract. Suddenly, Ansem felt something sprout inside his stomach, like ravenous vines or frenzied chains taking root in his chest; a cold tinge around his heart.

Something tied around his heart and stuck there. It wasn’t painful, or even necessarily restricting, but he could feel it. That faint cold tinge.

Pulsating.

The prince brought his hand to his chest, a smile on his face. “I guess, if I needed anymore proof that I am not dreaming, this is it.”

The giant laughed. “I am truly amazed at how well you’re taking this.”

What were the terms they had agreed to? Simple, the prince had sworn to make Gowther his exclusive blacksmith—this didn’t go both ways—and to bring him back the horn of a spieldon—a rare and dangerous creature from the third floor—as counterpart, Gowther would swear to provide him ready-made equipment at steeply below the market price with the caveat that he could only use it for himself. The price for custom equipment would be treated separately outside of the bounds of this contract, in counterpart the prince’s equipment would be made in priority and at a competitive rate. Also, it went without saying that the first batch of equipment would be provided by Gowther free of charge. The contract would be considered complete only when the spieldon horn was acquired. Osal as the witness would take care of the transport.

Who was truly winning with that contract? Both sides would argue that they were, which was why they returned to the forge a smile on their faces.

Ansem had learned pretty early that while extortion brought higher gains in the short term, in the long term it lead only to resentment and unnecessary headaches. As a result, as soon as they had reached satisfying terms, he had stopped pushing. Finding a backer that early was already excellent.

He hadn’t put his trust in the giant based on a whim. As they walked around town, he had observed how people acted as he passed. Nothing but smiles, bows and respect—more importantly, almost no one cowered away as he passed. And the few that did, didn’t walk with the confident step a resident would have, goggling like newborn baby.

In short, his image in Edya seemed good. If he could get someone like him, to work for him and equip him, it’d be excellent. In this world he didn’t have any reputation nor titles, so any help was good. It also was a fact that if he let such an opportunity pass, getting equipment would be complicated.

They returned to the smithy. Ansem approached the door for smaller people ready to turn its handle, when the giant said, “What are you doing?”

He smiled as he pointed towards a building to the right of the smithy.

“We’re not going to make weapons, are we?”

As he entered the store, Ansem felt like a child again. Everything towering above him, all kinds of toys he had never seen, and most too far out of his range for him to grab. The prince eyes’ opened slightly as he forced his mouth to stay shut.

“This is quite the shop you got here.”

Gowther chuckled. “I did say I was the best blacksmith in town.” Gowther left the boy at the entrance and disappeared in a back room for a few seconds. He then came back with a “book”.

It’s covers were made of metal flattened into a slab, half a centimeter thick. The paper inside was brownish, with hand-drawn illustrations of the weapons and armor he sold, with notes about to who they were intended (right-handed/left-handed), the materials they used, and their price. Zelixes. That was this world’s, or at least this floor’s, currency. As he perused the catalog, Gowther sat at the counter and smoked.

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As Ansem continued his perusing, an over-enthusiast group rushed through. A tall green-skinned woman and a shorter pale skinned man battled in the doorframe while a distressed young lady—with a notable head of white hair and a matching pair of eyes—tried to mediate.

“Stop it,” she said.

The two continued ignoring her. “You overgrown green guenon, I got here first!”

“Who’s, a what?!”

They bickered like that back and forth. Ansem for the sake of his inner peace, ignored it, walking away.

As he walked away from them, the rowdy group caught sight of him.

“Oh-! The hunk!” the green girl said as she pointed at Ansem, unaware of the most basic rule of courtesy.

“The hunk?” the short man repeated turning to see what she was talking about.

"They must have the wrong man," Ansem thought, before he turned back to apologize.

“You brought the heaven’s wrath yesterday, right?”

Uh?

Gowther said lewdly, “See! I told you, you were a lucky bastard.”

Ansem chuckled wryly as he turned his attention back to the group. “Heaven’s wrath?”

“She means lightning,” the short man interrupted, looking like he had a bone to pick with Ansem, “She speaks weirdly, but I’d expect your lordship to be able to decipher that much.”

“Lud!” the white-haired lady said.

“What? Aren’t nobles supposed to be smarter than that, superior and all?”

“LUD!”

The man, apparently named Lud, clicked his tongue as he bore his eyes into Ansem’s.

The white girl bowed for him. “Hey—“ Lud tried to object.

“Zip it!” she said, her tone unexpectedly acerb.

“Please excuse him, he doesn’t have a good image of…” She paused, not sure how to string her words as to not offend him. “... people of your caliber.”

“Please rise.” Ansem said with all the grace of someone who’d been drilled manners since the womb, “Are things like nobility titles even important in this tower? Please just shop as if I wasn’t there.”

This was less for them, than for him. He couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Thank you for your understanding, meister.”

He smiled faintly and returned to his book. “Hey—“

What else?

“Woah!” Ansem said taking a few steps back. Somehow that green lady—who was about the same height as him, if not slightly taller—had closed the distance without a noise.

“Are you looking for a mate?” she asked as she kept closing the distance he tried to maintain open, her orange eyes affixed to his, her purple lips curled in a lascivious smile.

“A mate—“ He continued to step back. “No, I am married.”

“That’s fine, she doesn’t have to know.”

As she said that, laughter exploded from the counter.

Ansem laughed too, a nervous laugh. “I am flattered—“

She closed the distance again, moving her body at unthinkable speed and grabbed his shoulder. She wasn’t listening.

“Let’s do it here,” she said, her every words punctuated by pants, her eyes out of focus. Gowther whistled.

“Astra!” the white-haired lady said, remotely yanking the lady away from him.

“Chloe, I will mate with the one who brings the—“

BANG.

“Thun... der...” She moaned as she fainted, making the shop quiet again.

“That idiot!” Lud clicked his tongue, glaring at his lordship as the white-haired lady apologized profusely.

Ansem looked at Lud with shock. He had knocked the girl out with a weapon, except that that weapon was his hand.

No, no, it would be better to say he had turned his hand into a weapon, a longsword, to be exact. Striking her head with the flat of the sword.

His highness stared too long. “We got a problem?”

Ansem’s gaze did not fall, as he stayed focused on the sword hand.

“Hey, are you perhaps dull?” Lud said, his hands turning back to normal.

The prince woke up from his trance as he realized he was spoken to. “Oh my apologies, It’s just…” He coughed feeling a bit embarassed. “That ability of yours is quite impressive.”

“Are you mocking me?”

Did I perhaps slap his mother in a past life?

“I staunchly believe that life is too short to waste time falling to such baseness.”

Lud laughed sardonically. “So I am too low to—“

“Lud!” Chloe tried to intervene.

“Chloe, stay out of this!”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Chloe said as she walked towards him.

“Is it me who made this golden spoon bastard look down on us.”

Ansem tried to defend himself. “This was not—“

“Shut it, your lordship.”

“Let’s duel, I’ll show you what us small people can do.”

“I’ll have to reject that challenge.”

Lud laughed.

“Lud, please stop this—“ Chloe said.

“See what I told you?” he said adressing Chloe, “These nobles can’t do anything but cower.”

At this point, Ansem had already taken his distances and turned his back to the group. His eyes back to the metal book of weapons.

Gowther said, “Hey kid, you’ll let him call you a coward?”

“Water off my back.”

This apparently ticked off Lud who in an instant charged the prince.

“AAAAAH!” Lud said as he surged forward, his two hands turned into a pair of long and short sword.

Bang.

Lud collapsed to the ground, a force, like an invisible hand, forcing him there. He writhed.

“Lud, stop this. You’re making yourself look like a fool.”

“Do I care how this fucker sees me?”

Is he crazy?

Chloe only sighed. Ansem felt bad for her.

“Your lordship, shopkeeper, if you find it in you to forgive our rudeness.”

Ansem simply waved with a conciliatory smile. What kind of nobles had he met to be that antagonistic towards him? The prince almost fell bad for him too. The white-haired lady took the man-child and the predator with her, dragging them away.

As she left Chloe banged into a wall, falling on her behind right between her two partners. She apologized again, and her hands on the wall, she walked out of the shop.

Gowther chuckled. “You don’t seem all that lucky, now.”

“Shut it.”