A Summoner Awakens, Chapter 11 [A Gentleman's Shakedown]

I stepped calmly out onto the bottom floor of the Academy. Since the students from every year were taking their final or advancement exams, I'd only passed a handful of staff along the way. There was only one more person between me and the exit, and I could hear water sloshing when he dumped a bucket on the floor.

My nose wrinkled slightly when I saw the muddy puddle that was formed. Sure, I hadn't forgotten to bring a vial of Infernal Wash with me, but that didn't mean I cared to stain my new boots. I glanced at the custodian and noticed he wore an amulet from the Church of Damnation.

"Mornin'," he lifted his hand as I walked by, attempting to skirt around the puddle. "Ain't it a bit early to be out an' about?"

I nodded in acknowledgement, "A good morning to you as well, sir. My exam has already been completed, so my professor allowed me to attend other matters."

"One o' those savvy kids, are ya?" The custodian asked, frowning and noting that I was stepping between the puddles. His previously pleasant demeanour completely changed. "Can't even be bothered tuh get yer boots wet. I reckon you'll be dead before ya see the Fifth Floor."

My brow twitched, "Well, sir, if you would just use a Cleansing Spell, there wouldn't be any water to be avoided. I'm well aware that the Academy freely provides you with the necessities to do your job."

"W-Well, I, uh..." his countenance shifted from disdain to flustered. Then, he became irate and lashed out, lifting the charm from around his neck, "This 'ere is a token o' the Church. The Patriarch says the Cards are a gift from Tara, and we ought not abuse 'em. Not that I 'spect a pampered noble arocrat would understan' that."

"What you mean to say, sir, is aristocrat," I shook my head, "And for you to speak of Tara's will in such a way. How hypocritical."

The custodian was taken aback, "Don't you dare be pesterin' me 'bout-"

"So that isn't a Savory Scent I smell on your person?" I asked, "Last I remembered, the Patriarch was firm that no Cards should be equipped unless they made the Wielder better suited to purge the Plagued Beasts. I feel you ought to remove that chain and swear fealty to the Church of Liberation."

The man tried to stammer something but couldn't find his tongue by the time I'd left the building. I hadn't meant to rebuke the man to such an extent, but those types of insincere congregants really knew how to press me. Even on the Tenth Floor, I'd faced condemnation from both Churches, being called a heretic almost daily by followers who didn't even observe their own beliefs.

Most of this was due to the side effects of my Origin Card. It wasn't common to receive an Origin Card that worked against a Wielder, but it wasn't infrequent, either. About one in fifty Climbers would receive an Origin Card that took away from one of their faculties in some form to enhance another.

Both of the Churches found this as an affront to their ideals. The Church of Liberation believed these Cards were the Tower's curse placed upon those who had an affinity for the Plague. As for the Church of Damnation, they simply felt the affected individuals proved too weak to assist in escaping the Tower, so the Goddess Tara had removed their ability to ascend. Both were nonsensical.

Folks with the affliction of an unlucky Origin Card had a rough life. The two Churches had their hands in everything. Many didn't believe, but there were equally as many who did. As such, it was hard for Wielders with the affliction to find a place in the Tower, and many picked up jobs as civil servants working for the Government.

Knowing that these pious supporters wouldn't change between now and the end of the century didn't help to appease my mood, but I'd forced myself to calm down by the time I reached the dorms. There was no reason to be so worked up over something that couldn't be helped. It wasn't like the Inquisition was out to get me.

I jogged up the stairs and grabbed my effects before leaving the Academy grounds. My business today involved visiting an old friend... One who'd been kind enough to send three mercenaries to help me in the Old Boar Forest. My Essence pouch weighed heavily on my side as I walked toward the northern exit of the Academy.

I nodded toward the guards and raised my cane in greeting. Both guards nodded in response, tapping the hilt of their swords in acknowledgement. They didn't bother to ask why I was leaving the Academy so early on the day of the final exams.

From the top of the hill upon which the Academy sat, the tops of the smaller businesses and Guild Halls could be seen clearly. Scents from the many taverns wafted up the hill, assaulting my senses and making my mouth water.

Mmm... maybe I can afford a proper meal today.

I made my way down the cobblestone lane and swiftly reached the intersection at Main Street. As was customary in the middle of the day, the streets were bustling with activity.

Carriages moved along the vast road while Guild recruiters stood in the streets calling for passers-by to sign up. Alongside the recruiters, small and somewhat impressive-looking Parties sat playing dice or cards. They would invite potential recruits to enjoy a game with them.

These Parties would help their newer members finish the basic tasks on the First Floor before providing them with the documentation needed to ascend to the Second. Though the Party members would never enjoy the fame of their guildmates who made it to the upper Floors, their jobs paid well. More importantly, they were safe.

I passed a large group of armoured men and women standing next to a broad sign on the corner of the street. Multiple sheets of paper hung on the board. They were primarily requests from the many businesses asking adventurers to head into the mountains to guard their miners or bring back wolf skins. Pictures of some criminals adorned the board as well. I spotted an image of the lead Skull pasted on the top.

Bandits and mercenary groups were common on the First Floor. Many resided in the vast mountains surrounding the outskirts. If one were to commit a significant crime on the Origin Floor, there would be no place for them within the Tower.

The guards would still look the other way for a few Essence if one was a petty thief. But murderers and the like had high bounties. Unless they could hand over more than their worth, they would be arrested on the spot if they attempted to ascend.

"Hey, hey!"

There was a sudden pressure on my shoulder. I turned and found myself looking into the face of a tall, lanky woman with glowing eyes. She had long, thin hair and yellowed teeth, indicative of her terrible habits. Even with her gaunt figure, her grip on my shoulder was tight, almost painful.

"How may I help you?" I asked, glancing at the woman's hand and finding it covered in dirt and grime. When I saw this, I tried to wrest myself from her grip and take a step back, but it was too tight.

"You, boy! Sell me that stick," she quickly replied, spittle flying from her lips while she spoke. Her gaze travelled to the cane in my hand, and I saw her eyes glitter. "I want it. How much?"

"My possessions are not for sale, ma'am," I spoke plainly, and glared at the woman when her grip on my shoulder tightened. Before she could speak again, another, larger woman grabbed her by the arm and tugged her away. The woman cried out in surprise as her grip on my shoulder weakened.

"Gertrude, release this young man at once!" she barked, yanking back harder on the haggard woman. This woman was also tall, but she was by no means gaunt. Her body looked like that of a strongman you would see in a carnival. Her black hair was cropped close to her ears, and she had a short, masculine face. "I'm sorry young man. Gertrude here doesn't know how to keep to herself."

I regarded the gigantic woman for a moment before nodding. She smiled in response and began to reprimand Gertrude while I turned to leave. Before I made it out of earshot, I heard the bony woman complain, "But Bertha! You haven't seen the Essence contained in that stick!"

My steps faltered briefly upon hearing that, and I recalled how the woman's eyes glittered when her gaze landed on my cane. I kept walking, pretending I didn't hear her crazed shouting, but I suddenly became curious about the object I was holding.

This had been my grandfather's cane, and it had been his grandfather's before him, or so I'd been told. I didn't know anything about its origins. When I'd had it appraised in my previous life, the shopkeep had said it was a relatively solid object made from some materials found on the upper Floors. He hadn't discovered any unique traits.

Although...

I recalled the scene. Every detail was clear to me, from the swaying light in the back to the sweat on the man's brow. That clerk had been nervous... no, almost afraid as he handed the cane back to me.

After I'd walked far enough down Main Street for the women to be out of sight, I stepped into an empty alley and looked down at the weapon in my hand. It looked exactly the same. The only difference being it was free from wear after years of use. That's where I caught myself.

Why would it have had all of that wear from me using it on the Tenth Floor when it had been passed down through multiple generations without taking damage. For many minutes, I stood in that alley. When I first swung this blade in my dorm, it felt heavier than I was accustomed to.

I assumed that was due to my low Foundations... Did that shopkeep have a replica crafted..? Why?

I stared at the weapon for a few more minutes before sheathing it and departing the alley. I left the Guild halls and job board behind to head for the business establishments.

It wasn't long before I saw the merchant's shop. The lights were dimmed, and a closed sign hung on the door. I approached the two-story building and tried the handle. It was locked.

Glancing both ways and seeing no one nearby, I raised my cane and lightly bashed the silver head into one of the small window panes. Carefully reaching through the broken pane, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Ding.

I shut the door and locked it behind me. My cane tapped softly on the nicely polished wooden floor. I gently tapped the bell on the front counter and waited patiently.

"It's rude to keep a client waiting!" I called toward the back. My eyes ran across the purple lines etched into the shop's walls. When this place was investigated, it was found that they were linked to a contract. It was due to this contract that the merchant was so vulnerable within his own establishment.

A bit of shuffling, and then a loud thud sounded from the dark room in the back, followed by a tirade of curses. I waited for the bulky merchant to round the corner, still cursing and rubbing the top of his head.

"We're closed! Who do y-" Crook's face went pale, and his eyes widened when he recognized me. He moved his hand toward his coat, but I was faster. I was over the counter with the tip of my sword lightly pressed against his throat before he could grab what he was after.

"Now, Crook. Clients deserve proper greetings, don't you agree?" I asked, smiling down at the sweating man. I pulled the blade from his throat. A thin trail of blood trickled down, staining the edge of his collar.

"Y-You're right. Please forgive my rudeness, Sir," he lifted his hands very slowly and pointed to a cloth in his front pocket. "May I?"

I eased back but stayed close. He knew I could reach him if he tried anything clever. The merchant nodded and pulled out a finely knit handkerchief, pressing it to the insignificant injury. He looked me up and down as he did so. He took a breath and nodded, stepping behind the counter.

"How can I help you today?" Crook asked. He took a seat on a tall stool and waited patiently.

I walked to the front of the counter and unfastened the Essence pouch from my belt, "There are a few matters I'd like to discuss, but we can start with this. I'm just shy of thirty-five hundred assorted Essence here. I'd like to exchange it."

Crook grimaced, "Oh? You don't want me to just hand it over?"

"Well, if you're insisting," I smiled, pretending not to have heard his sarcastic tone.

"No, no, no," Crook hurriedly waved his hands and opened a massive box on the counter beside him. Inside were thousands of Essence of varying Levels. "Doesn't matter what Level, eh?"

"Just something more manageable."

"Level 5 alright?" he asked.

"That will do. Just count out six-hundred fifty. I'll purchase another case of Infernal Wash," I dumped my pouch gently on the counter for him to sort through. The man nodded and began poking through the shards, counting them swiftly while grumbling about how I'd never purchased the first case.

"Now, for our second order of business," I held up the pad I'd acquired from the three brothers. The merchant paused his counting and opened his eyes wide. I placed the pad back in my chest pocket and patted it teasingly. He shook his head and went back to counting out Essence.

"What is it that you want?"

"There are several things you can do for me," I told him. "But for now, we'll keep it simple. I require a Wisdom Foundation. I would also like to know the whereabouts of the Skull Mercenaries."

"You're in over your 'ead, boy," the merchant grit his teeth and glanced at my pocket. His eyes moved to the bloodstained pack on my back, "Did that belong to the brothers?"

"Mmm..." I nodded and placed the Mercenaries' pack on the counter beside the pile of Essence. "It did. Now I'd like you to launder it away."

He sat silently and stared at the bag. After some time, he dragged it behind the counter and placed it on the floor beside him. Then, he went back to diligently counting Essence.

"I'll hold on to this," I patted my front pocket, which held the proof of the merchant's wrongdoings, "And I'll exchange it for your services between now and the time I leave for the Second Floor."

Crook nodded, "You don't plan to turn it in? I'm sure you'd be rewarded."

"You won't be getting off that easy," I told him. "I need everything you have on the Skull by the time I return. You'll offer a fair price for all the gear that I commandeered from your friends. And finally, I need that Wisdom Foundation. That's it for now."

He frowned, "You should know that Wisdom, Intelligence, and Will are the most difficult of the Foundation Cards to get here. Why not just make a trip to the Origin Floor?"

"I'm on the clock," I glanced down at my timepiece. "Just see if you can locate one that's not in use. I won't hang you for not completing an impossible task."

"I'll do what I can," Crook said solemnly, "Your other two requests, I can manage. But boy... you're in over your head. You have a chance here to walk away. Only me and the rat know the brothers went after you."

I looked at the merchant while fiddled with the Essence. That hadn't been something I'd expected.

"Your concern is appreciated," I told him earnestly. "But don't you mind me. I'll be fine."

Crook frowned but didn't argue. I waited patiently for him to count the remaining Level 5 Essence, pour it into a new pouch, and place it on the counter.

"3,250 Essence, all Level 5. Your Infernal Wash is on the same shelf as before," he nodded his head toward the spot.

I picked up the much lighter sack of Essence. Almost as an afterthought, I added, "Also, if you can get hold of a Disinfect or Cleanse Spell, I'll pay market price."

"See you around, Crook," I tied the now much lighter pouch to my belt and scooped up the case of Infernal Wash. I raised my cane in salute and backed out of the small shop. Fresh air blew through the streets, bringing with it the smells of a nearby bakery. My mouth watered again, but I decided to hold off for now.

It doesn't seem that he's contacted Skull. I wonder what he'll do next. He didn't strike me as the man I read about in the old reports. Why would he be so concerned after the trouble I'm sure I caused him? Perhaps I shouldn't have judged him based on his criminal history.

I shrugged and made to leave. What mattered now was finishing the tasks. I was a free man until graduation, and the sooner I got these done, the better.

It's only a matter of time before the Descendants hit the First Floor in droves.