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There was no good way to approach a noble unannounced and ask for money. The only people who could hope to get away with that would be even higher nobility or visiting foreigners who had only the one day available—and even that would probably be arranged months in advance.
Since Jair was neither of those, he needed to approach this in a different manner.
He was on a tight deadline and, however well he concealed his urgency in behavior and affect, his bottom line was harder to disguise. Nothing screams desperation like being pushed up against an immutable deadline.
Most Veori nobility flatly rejected any thought of giving or loaning a single nirei to someone like Jair. Or, so it had been in the past. He had a different perception to work with now than ever before, which gave him hope that at least someone could be persuaded.
He just needed to figure out the right method of approach.
Telling the truth selectively would be the obvious place to start. The fewer lies he had to tell, the less complicated everything would be afterward. Only, the average person's response to ‘help, a dragon is coming’ was to suggest obvious solutions that wouldn't work. Run away. Hide. Hire adventurers to slay it.
Even those who did want to help rarely offered access to their coffers, preferring the intangible sort of assistance that wouldn't be of any real use. Yes, endorsement on an evacuation plan to save countless lives from becoming collateral damage was theoretically useful, but in practice Jair didn't need an evacuation plan. He needed a way to forcefully prevent a dragon from eating his friend.
Unfortunately, getting between a dragon and what it wanted tended to be on everyone’s ‘do not attempt’ list. So, some creative liberties would need to be taken.
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“I’m going to slay a dragon this weekend, and I need sponsors.”
“All this work to set up a meeting immediately, and this is what you want to say?” Lord Olrek, head of one of the oldest trade houses of Silvas, frowned down at Jair. “Where do you plan to find a dragonslayer team? There’s no lunar passage this week.”
“I’m assembling a collection of teachers, soldiers, and hidden powerhouses to join in, but I need to equip everyone properly.”
"Take your time to establish yourself. The dragon will still be there next month, next year. There's no need to rush into things."
"I made a bet that I could become a dragonslayer the same week that I was initiated. My honor is on the line here!"
Lord Olrek began flipping through the pages on his desk, his interest waning. “With an attitude like that, you’ll get yourself killed immediately. I pity whoever you’ve dragged into this with you.”
“What’s it going to take to get you to change your mind? Is there any cause that you would part with your money for?”
“Nothing comes to mind. I don’t maintain my wealth and status by handing out nirei to every ambitious fighter who comes along, however much potential you may have. Your weapon may be impressive, but you’ve yet to prove yourself its equal.”
“Yeah. Didn’t think that’d be good enough, but had to try it.” Jair got up and walked out.
Olrek looked up to watch him go, puzzled. The kid burned how many favors to obtain this meeting, only to leave in barely a minute?
Though he returned to his normal work without pause, the strange meeting lingered in the back of his mind. Something very strange was going on with that Welburne kid.
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“Hey, want to come slay a dragon with me this weekend?”
Denor Veshin sat on the fourth floor of the Institute library, the glass floor reflecting the bookshelves behind his table in the lanternlight. "I'm otherwise occupied this weekend, but if you—" Denor looked up sharply. "Did you say dragon?"
"Yes, I'm hunting a dragon."
Denor closed his book. "Don't do that."
"Why not?"
"It'll get you killed, for one thing."
"But it's essential to my... research on… curing the plague?"
"Did you just make that up on the spot?"
"Yeah, not my best presentation. I'll do better next time. Any idea of anything your father would be interested in other than money? I really do need to slay a dragon, and getting some Veshin armor would really help."
Denor snorted genially. “Unless you know the secret to safeguarding the spell-curing process to prevent final-stage breaks, nothing comes to mind.”
“Well, that’s something. Thank you for your help.” He left Denor to his studying.
That kind of specialist research was a pain to undertake, mainly because it would take years to learn enough just to break into the field, let alone learn its deepest secrets and start experimenting with new formulas. Past a certain point, alchemy became more a matter of precise numbers than anything, and Jair found it endlessly dull and restrictive. He preferred spells that allowed for some creativity in the performance, where the person mattered. With the proper alchemy formulas, anyone could succeed. Which was how Veshin’s workshops had the employees and scale of business they did.
At that point, he may as well make his own. But it was a little premature to commit to spending the next twenty years in tedious workshops slowly moving up. It was a good backup plan, but there were still plenty of moneymaking opportunities available to him. He just had to find them.
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Dralik Sejrilo, head of a house officially in the marketing business but unofficially a front for ghostmoon smugglers, would not be easily swayed. But, as owner of the sole lunar platform not belonging to a city, he was the most likely of Veor’s noble occupants to have large amounts of money on hand.
He met Jair in the Sejrilo gardens, which were simple walking paths among the teal grasses and flowers, nothing ostentatious. He’d dressed casually, light teal belted tunic over darker leggings, pairing well with his queue of dark brown hair.
“You told my wife you’ve some complicated doom prediction?”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"I've received word of a dire plague sweeping the continent. Within a year, Veor will be fully quarantined and half of Almas with it. Reskas will be in complete isolation and the seascourge gaining ground at an unprecedented rate. My only way of solving this is to negotiate a solution with Ryenzo Drakonis to make use of her expertise on such matters, and she demands a steep tribute. Also, she's only available for requests a single day out of the next decade, which happens to be tomorrow."
“How oddly specific.” Dralik nodded for them to walk, matching Jair’s measured pace. “I’ve never heard of any of this.”
“I have a friend, you know there’s a seer in my class? Not every vision is accurate but this I spent a lot of time and every nirei I had to verify, and I’m afraid it’s completely true.”
“You know how many—“
“Yes, I know how many people want to think they’re having visions of the future, but this is different. Independently verified and global in scope, and our only way to get ahead of it is through Ryenzo Drakonis and the only opportunity is tomorrow evening.”
Dralik considered him for a long moment, two fingers resting on his chin. “You’re fully committed to this cause, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll make this happen no matter who gets in my way, and I’d much prefer to have you as an ally.”
“I like the spirit, but you really need to learn how to navigate society less like a sandshark in a construct shop.” Dralik turned to resume walking. “Not everything can be solved by waving your sword around. Especially those of us who know just how little a single weapon is worth, however flashy.”
Jair’s temper flared at the insult. “Maelstrom is worth more than you can imagine.” More than a weapon, it was a promise made tangible, a manifestation of infinite potential, destiny defied.
“Everyone wants to think they’re special, Welburne.” Dralik waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone has a cause, anyone can change the world, fix what’s wrong. Well, no, you can’t. If there’s going to be a plague, there’s going to be a plague. Dragons aren’t worth relying on. Even if you found one who’ll deign to talk to us lesser beings, they’re more likely to take your tribute and eat you for dessert than give you some magical cure. Find a smaller cause, something you can actually do. You don’t need to go chasing the stars before you learn to fly.”
Jair’s voice was hard, cold. “Flying isn’t the hard part. It’s finding anyone willing to fly with you.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to keep looking.”
“I could kill you here and now.”
Dralik didn’t so much as stutter in his step. “That would be a terrible idea.”
Jair forced himself to breathe calmly, and swallowed the fury that was always so ready to burst out at the slightest provocation. Dralik was right. He didn’t need to start a fight here, and it wouldn’t benefit him.
He turned around and walked away without another word, leaving Dralik to his self-satisfied miserable life.
But the feeling of powerlessness as everyone denied him the help he so desperately needed only continued to grow, the need to just show them he was more than they thought, more than they could have dreamed. That he was worth investing in, that he could change the world.
He just didn’t have enough time.
No good options and no true options. Frustrating, even if he hadn’t really expected any better. Flashing Maelstrom wasn’t enough alone.
Stealing things, even just blatantly breaking in and taking them, took time. Turning stolen goods into usable cash took time.
It was almost enough to make Jair wish Veshin were more corrupt so he could bribe him with his enemies’ downfall or something immaterial of that nature. Veshin was the rare house that avoided feuds and settled its affairs quietly and without flaunting their strength. As a result, they survived, thrived, and were largely overlooked as everyone ‘above’ them went about their power games.
Jair needed money, and so deception would once more become a painfully necessary part of getting anything done.
Keeping track of which lies he’d told in a particular iteration of reality was always a questionable undertaking. Too many variants jumbled together, making it all but impossible to distinguish. His memory may be significantly better than the average, but cram enough lifetimes in there and even he struggled to keep everything straight.
He much preferred to hint and insinuate or bend the truth rather than make outright false claims. Information coming to light did less damage when one was at least tangentially honest. People whose soulspells allowed them to view the past weren’t commonplace, but they were fully accessible to anyone willing to spend a few months and enough money.
Whatever role he chose to embody, he could imbue it with absolute conviction. Even one that he personally disliked.
Today’s first persona would be an eager young duelist ready to overreach cluelessly in ways Jair personally cringed to contemplate, but were rather necessary if he were to have any hope of this plan paying off. He had a hundred lifetimes of deception and facade to draw upon.
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"I know it's presumptuous of me, Lord Falkon, but I'm in dire need of funding to further advance my career. I designed a custom set of armor that should significantly increase my visibility, if only I could get a few sponsors to help me provide the startup funds. Once I start winning duels, I'll be able to pay it back with interest."
"You're a mageblade, Jair. Mageblades don't use armor. And you're far too young to be thinking about off-continent dueling yet. Stick to the local circuit for a few years. Then we can talk, if you still need an upgraded outfit."
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"A personal trainer? At your age?” Matricia Eldren paused in her careful embroidery to give Jair a quick examination, then resumed work on what appeared to be an image of a hunting lion without giving him a second glance. “You’re still in school. There's plenty to be learned from your teachers there."
"There isn't. If you give me a graduate-level test in every single subject taught at the Astralla Institute, I will pass all of them."
"That, I know to be false. Don't overreach. I’ve heard about your performance. You rely on your weapon to carry you through. You've learned a lot of the basics, true, and could probably put together a theoretical victory for any given situation, but the reality is that you’ll not stand a chance against anyone who’s spent even a few months longer than you in practice. Your execution is sloppy and lacks polish.”
Jair nodded, resigned. “Is there anything I could say that would convince you to invest in my future financially?"
She reached across to pat his hand. “Don't take offense, I have the highest regard for your potential, or I’d never have brought you here at all. Ask after another year, and I may very well give you everything you want. For now, stay at the Institute. Focus on your movement and execution. You have more potential than I've ever seen, but it would be wasteful to try to jump ahead before you've mastered what's within your grasp."
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Dase Myrok, secondary director of Parein’s largest manufacturing coalition and a known gambler, watched Jair from behind his extravagant office desk. Green light in a dozen shades filtered through the patterned windows behind him and cast his slender form in shadow.
"What's the most you'd be willing to gamble on a student performance at the annual Veshin exhibition?"
"The exhibition just finished. You're asking about the next already? I understand if you're eager to get involved, but no need to think quite so far ahead."
"Assuming I had the same amount of money available to me as you do, how much would be a reasonable amount for me to invest in a duelist I'm fully confident in winning?"
"As much as you can afford to lose."
"I was hoping for a solid number.”
Myrok scoffed and shook his head pityingly. “Your finances are nothing like mine. The question you're asking is pointless. Come back with a full portfolio of your situation and assets, and I'll help you set up your bets. Right now, you're way too premature."
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Jair sighed, disappointed but not really surprised. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. The tight timeline made what should be simple into an impossible tangle.
Everyone was too established in their ways to be unseated easily. Perhaps something more drastic would be necessary.
Who could he obtain money from who he hadn't already ruled out in the past? There were a variety of options, the problem was the time requirement of any of them. While, yes, there were enough wealthy people that he could obtain money from, it would take hours of discussion to convince any one of them, and the bulk of them were stingy enough that it wouldn't be worth his effort.
Gambling was tricky too. Once he had enough of a reputation and could attend events himself, he could start building up his fund that way, but even then he'd have to move slowly to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention.
Once people figured out you could see the future, anything like that became unavailable very quickly. Being known for interfering with time tended to close more doors than it opened, and most of the doors it did open were better left closed.
The more he thought about it, the more he began to reconsider his event priorities. With the exhibition right at the start, that was a golden opportunity to place some dramatic bets and show off his capabilities without raising suspicion. Of course the guy with a suddenly-powerful sword would be betting on himself to win more than was reasonable. They'd be perfectly happy to indulge him, placing bets they assumed to be sure things, and when he broke through the entirety of the higher tier, they'd be left impressed enough that giving him their money felt reasonable.
Time to start over again from the beginning, but better prepared and with a very specific agenda.
The dragon would have to wait its turn.
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