Biracial Edgelord Can't Make Immortal : Power of Ten, Book Seven

Teeeeechnically, we would have made more money waiting to sell all the dragon parts back in Zanzyr. But there were dwarves in Absoglor who would take the hide (as long as none of the wizards was the one selling to them), the blood was too valuable to sell, and hey, wizards in Federyn needed hearts and bones and livers and intestines and eyes and brains and claws of dragons, too.

And we'd just done House Garond a solid, so helping us out by buying at full price for their own wagemages was an easy enough consideration for our efforts on their behalf.

The fact some excited Zanzyran wizards who'd never been outside the country were also visiting a bunch of inns and taverns boasting about the exciting things they'd done, and inadvertently telling everyone who could read more into what the foolish but powerful Zanzyrans had obviously totally missed out on, was another of those things. It took very, very little effort for those who were curious about the details to learn Captain Pike was now in custody, there was a signed confession with him after a certain Caergard merc frog-marched him in past the heavily-fortified city gates and into the Magistrate's building there, and House Ruhaldin was panicking as it rather quickly attempted to cover its tracks.

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"Our fellow students seem to be enjoying themselves?" Hanvol asked mildly, looking over to where a 'professional guide' and very experienced carouser named Guy was leading the rather drunken students through a traditional Federyn drinking song, refrains dealing with liberty and gold for everyone, and land of the wealthy, home of the intrepid, and so on and so forth. Being experienced with vocal components, the wizards actually made pretty good singers for the refrain.

There was a tumble and crash as a pickpocket who'd just passed by Laurentine fell down badly, hitting his head and knocking himself out cold. His purse and purloined gold vanished somewhere as Oswald Brandybuck helped the Mick drag him to his feet, and they propped the lout up in a booth at the back.

About ten minutes later the unconscious fellow had sixteen shades of skin color and was dressed in a Sihdish dancer's outfit, courtesy of Color and Prestidigitation Cantrips by drunken Zanzyrans, at Guy's encouragement. The other members of the pickpocket team saw that and wisely decided to make a discreet retreat. Of course, when it came time to settle their bills, they found out they only had coppers in their purses.

There was a delighted roar from the tavern-goers at the chance to deal properly with welchers and sponges trying to leave without paying their tab.

There was a whole lot of head-thumping and body blows, torn clothing, heads soaked in piss and mopwater, atomic wedgies, and similar entertainments before they were all summarily tossed out in the street.

I just watched the whole process, Guy and Buck showing off nicely. Hanvol wasn't an attention-getter, but he did have a particularly vivid sash on right now, all bright orange and yellow, and was sitting with me. Nobody was going to bother him.

"How's Sir Horn's people doing on the recruiting?" After all, fifty mercenaries had just popped up as available, very desperate to get out of the country.

"Over half have already signed on and the rest are headed north along the coast eagerly," he replied calmly. "Not exactly the most reliable sorts, but the Darkmoor men should whip them into shape easily enough, I would think."

Recruiting additional muscle to clear land in Eislas wasn't a small thing. Federyn had constant problems from the mountains that ringed much of the country, but it was a nation built on gold, not martial ability. Just being a great warrior wasn't likely to get you wealth or a noble title of any kind, unless you wanted to try founding a barony or something in some of the wilder areas.

"Good enough. How was your reaping?" I asked heartlessly.

"Ruhaldin is already selling off cargo and interests to pay for the anticipated fines. Factor Krispin has just survived his first assassination attempt and is happily spilling the beans to save his life on all sorts of business interests of the Ruhaldin, which secrets are being carefully sold off to interested parties at suitable mark-up."

Having adept followers who could get into position with magical speed was a useful thing, especially when one was a native of the city and two others of the country.

"The assassin in-house or Guild?" I asked calmly.

"Guild retainer, judging by how quickly he responded. Would you like the head?"

"I'm a traditional elf who believes the world is better off with fewer assassins in it, and I'm not particularly awed enough by their reputation to not prey upon them in turn. All that gold has to go to someone, right?" I replied pragmatically.

"The Luswyr are enjoying trying to adapt to a human city. Zanzyr City was nice, but Absolglor is a very different animal… and not nearly so magically active. They are enjoying themselves with the raids on secret holdings right now. From what Factor Krispin was happy to blab about, we should send House Ruhaldin into default on six major contracts, which should trigger even more penalties at a very unfortunate time."

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"And sell them their own goods at mark-up, or would you prefer to grab the contracts?" I inquired of him smoothly.

"It is tempting to go into business, but I don't have the time to devote myself to such things. I should be able to finish graduating in a year or so, I should think. The Great School really is an interesting place to learn things in, although the Zanzyran bias to so many things can be rather overwhelming at times."

"There are better and faster ways to make money than mercantile operations, but the combination of safer and steady wealth, and the power it brings, is important in the world, regardless of what wizards think. We don't have the contacts and resources to effectively manage contracts without becoming beholden to established Houses here just yet, which I would also like to avoid." I took a sip of the elven wine they had on tap here, doing business with Zanzyr and Sidheduiche elves frequently here in the city located right between them. It was a wine from the forest kingdom, and quite palatable… and could knock a human on their can after one glass, a dwarf in two, leading to potential amorous entanglements and romantic complications. "What is your opinion of House Garond?"

"Conservative, fairly honest, powerful, sometimes ruthless, but generally not underhanded… although they can be dangerously vengeful if crossed. I don't remember many scandals about poor behavior with them, especially compared to a House as ruthless as Ruhaldin. Actions against Garond are generally attempts to sabotage its contracts and delivery terms, rather than them doing stupid or immoral things and being lashed back at. They aren't as outwardly noble as House Caliador, but Caliador is often considered too hidebound and honorable to be a proper Great House."

"Yet they are a Great House, and continue to be one?" I inquired archly.

Hanvol shrugged and smiled slightly. "At the end of the day, they are the best and most open and honest House to deal with, and everyone owes them favors and wants to deal with them if they want reliability, particularly the government and military. The strength of those contacts and contracts makes them very hard to shake, and they've quite a lot of armed muscle if they need it. That idiot Pike wasn't even eligible to join House Caliador as a mercenary after they looked into his history and flatly denied him."

"Mmm. How about contacts with the Thieves' Guild?" I inquired of him.

"That would be more Guy's and Buck's areas of interest. I do know that House Gimwall is reputedly controlled outright by the Thieves' Guild of Marsenpur, and if so, has been behind its elevation to Great House," he informed me dryly.

"I see. Strange what having devoted information brokers, burglars, spies, and con men can do for you in the way of sabotage and information gathering, yes?"

"Indeed, my Lady." Guy had managed to get the student Adepts into a rough chorus line, while the Mick and their guards were belting out some old and well-loved trail song the rest of the tavern was chanting along with as the Zanzyrans danced, with Guy leading the whole pack shamelessly.

While all my people were Marked, I didn't bother them as they did their jobs, and Hanvol had a good gift for logistics and coordinating things like this. Few would believe he was a Fire Elementalist, and had the sharp discipline and battle experience to be really, really good at it.

The wench on duty smiled at him, appreciating his understated but clearly valuable cut of clothing and having a keen eye for wealthy patrons. She was also very careful around me and the obvious deference Hanvol was showing me. She dropped off a bowl of big, soft, and salty pretzels, fresh from the hot oil, and we both claimed one as Hammel was the first to slip and fall, obviously not as good at holding his beer as the others.

The five guards were not permitted to drink alcohol, although they were encouraged to shamelessly let others think they were doing so. It wasn't the first group of locals who thought they'd found easy marks.

They'd probably be really interested to know the Adepts were all voluntarily partying it up and acting like rash outlanders and fools, if not with the infamous Zanzyran arrogance to go with it. A couple spells in their rooms, and they'd all be cold sober and guzzling some water to deal with potential hangovers… and probably late-night visitors of sorts.

"You marked the spotter?" I inquired of him.

"I believe it's the woman dressed as a scribe off to the right there," he commented calmly. "Purple Aura and at least a Nine?"

A revenge strike against the Zanzyrans sticking their nose where it wasn't wanted was only to be expected from something as large and powerful as House Ruhaldin.

Hanvol glanced away. "I do believe Yvryn has located the strike team! They are lounging about an alleyway down the street, keeping an eye on the entry here. She's right over top of them, listening to them speak. Mmm, Zanzyran wizards are definitely arrogant fools, my Lady."

"Indeed, indeed," I agreed as the most palpable lie. He almost let a grin slip in response. "Ask Buck and Guy how they want to play it, let the Mick know, and move on to the bait and the lure."

"I am certain I have never heard of a Rune of Marvelous Deliquescence, but a wonderful idea for a spell," Hanvol complimented me. Basically, a wizardly equivalent of Neutralize Poison, with a side chaser of a hangover and drunkenness cure, but only insofar as ingested poisons. The Mass version of it could affect all of them and get rid of all the side-effects of this much drinking and partying, and so I'd just put it into a Rune of Magic and given it to Isadora to use at the appropriate time.

"It is amusing about the overlap of alcohol and poisons, be it made from fruits of unwholesome vines or particularly unassuming mushrooms. Wizards should be properly careful of such things."

"I admit I've not seen someone focused upon you, my Lady, which does seem strange. You stand out the most," he noted.

"There were three of them. Duum has the heads, I'll get to talking to them later tonight," I waved away the fact dismissively, and he hid a chuckle with another drink of his alcohol-neutralized wine… and the poison that had somehow gotten into it between the bartender and our table.

Over in the corner, the now-upright female spotter stiffened, and a single stream of smoke curled out of her left ear. Hanvol snapped his fingers with a small puff of flame, and with a poof lost in the shadows, the woman fell apart into ash.

Try to poison me, did she?, he thought absently, and gave the elven huntress outside permission to Web up, paralyze, and slit the throats of the kill-team waiting for the wizards to come stumbling by singing drunken songs in bad Draconic as Guy led them out of the building…