[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 144 – A Magisterial Scolding

Elian’s shirt clung to his back as he stood before the magistrate. The High Clerk didn’t dare to sit unless offered, and the magistrate had been very clear not to.

“Do you have any idea the amount of disruption that group has caused?” the magistrate demanded. He swayed his long blonde hair, tucking a few golden locks behind a pointed ear. “The headaches? You were supposed to handle them. That is your job. Do you want to be demoted to a normal Clerk again, Elian?”

“No, sir.”

“Then fix this. Get them into another Convocation trial and out of my city! The Emerald Isles are sending over fleets of competitors because they’ve heard what these magicians have done to some Irons! Coppers defeating Irons! The temerity of it.”

Elian raised a finger gently. “Ah, magistrate? They call themselves ‘Magi’ not ‘magicians’.”

“That’s what I said.”

Elian knew better than to argue.

“Did you get anything on them? You know the Jade Conclave will pay handsomely for any levers they can use, and after all the trouble they’ve caused, I better have something I can hand them on a silver platter.”

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Elian shook his head. He had been trying to find something on them, but there wasn’t anything. What information he could learn about them was meaningless to the Jade Conclave.

The locals from their world hardly knew who they were! They were ghosts. Those that did know them, spoke of them in hushed tones and immediately shut up whenever Elian or his Underclerks went poking around.

How could an entire Worldshard not know who these people were? There was no way people of such skill and power could walk through a world and leave it unchanged in their wake.

The magistrate slammed his perfectly manicured hands on his desk. It sounded like a thunderclap. “Then get me something I can use and stop standing around!”

“I don’t understand, magistrate. They haven’t done anything wrong. A few scuffles, a fight with other competitors, and a deal with a local businessman. Everything that the Underclerks have found has been above board.”

“A black mark on their records can’t be that hard to fabricate, Elian! I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you. Do your job!” The magistrate struck like a viper and let some of his Steel aura flow out as he pointed a finger at the doors to his office. The rich violet thunderwood doors sparked and flew open at his command.

While it was considered rude to unleash your aura on another person, it wasn’t against any law. Poor manners, perhaps, but that was about it.

The magistrate was reminding Elian, rather unsubtly, that even without the sash of his office, he was strong enough to get his way.

Elian frowned, nodded, and left as fast as he dared. He had gotten to the position of High Clerk because he was good at his job. He liked the slow movement of bureaucracy. It was simple. Predictable.

Until now, he thought to himself ruefully.

Sure, gaining ranks was harder, but it was less life-threatening. He didn’t have to go out and battle a thousand venomous monsters just to eke out an advancement. There was a reason adventurers were always in great need. Their mortality rates were through the roof!

Elian knew because he had the actuarial tables as proof. For every adventurer who went from Mundane to Copper, there were thousands that died. Competitors were even worse.

People called the Convocation a “time for celebration and advancement” when “all the mechanisms for progression are exposed to all” and such nonsense. What they didn’t understand was that the Convocation was also a culling event.

The more he researched, the more Elian became convinced that the Convocation was a tool the System used to cull incoming populations to prevent something worse.

What that worse thing was…he had no idea. But it had to be bad if the System thought mass murder was a superior alternative.

There was never a Convocation when the population was low. They were always at an all-time peak, many times without the induction of another Shard.

I don’t want to get dirt on them, Elian thought. They’re not bad people. Weird, sure, but who isn’t?

As he strode out of the magistrate’s tower, he decided that he would at least try to do things the magistrate’s way. He was not only his boss’ boss, but he was one of the most powerful people in the Seabrim Crater. Steels were incredibly rare here. Elian only knew of three.

The Grand Orders actually spoke with the magistrate. Not just the satellite offices, but their main branches. Besides, sooner or later, the Magi would move on and up to another Ring or realm.

How in the hells did they ever find a Rook? Elian wondered as he walked the streets, heading toward the Starling Tower. He hoped they weren’t still there, but he somehow doubted his luck would be that good. The Seabrim Crater was home to millions of people. He could spend weeks searching for the Magi without ever finding them.

If they were still around, maybe he could find out how they got their hands on something so powerful. That might be how he could get some dirt on them. Rooks weren’t exactly illegal, but they were definitely a gray area. There was no way the Magi would be able to acquire one on their own. They generated no revenue for the local magistrate, and that more than anything was why he had been hauled into the elf’s office to be yelled at.

He should have found a way to stop them or guided them to a more equitable arrangement. At least that was how the magistrate saw it.

Just find something, he told himself. Easy. They’re weaker than you, right? Even if they did beat up an entire party of Irons… Elian shook his head. Why do I always get into these situations? He looked up at the Starling Tower, straightened his lapels, and strode in.

Please don’t be here, please don’t be here.

The magistrate couldn’t demote him for finding nothing if they weren’t around for him to find anything on. The Convocation had just sent out new trials. Maybe they would be out shopping.

With any luck, they might be actively avoiding him!

Then he saw Mel standing in the lobby, cheerily waving and walking over to him.

Drats.

***

While Mel was waiting in the Starling Tower lobby for Elian to show up, she struck up a conversation with an attendant and found out about a guidebook for newcomers.

Within, Mel learned that profession permits covered a dizzyingly vast number of categories. From mundane blacksmith to the curiously strange hexcraft.

Mel didn’t miss the way Charlie’s eyes lit up when the group found out that hexcraft worked with jewels. Specifically, aspect gems.

Holy shit, that’s got to be expensive. Normal jewels? Nah. Magical aspect gems that everybody clamors for? Yep, that’s the way.

Each profession permit was useful in its own way. From creating magical potions that replenished vital resources over time, cuisine that increased the maximum of such energies, to dungeon delving and archaeology that opened up new avenues of exploration and identifying the treasures discovered in ancient tombs.

Huh, didn’t know loot could be unidentified.

Each one was like a more advanced version of knowledge. They opened up new ways to interact with the world and use certain kinds of loot. They even found more kinds of loot.

Gwen was already doing something like that by manually harvesting meat from monsters, then roasting them into meals.

Mel’s Alchemist profession granted her the ability to identify and recover alchemical materials from monsters. Something she definitely wasn’t able to do before.

Most of the Magi were undecided as to what they wanted to pursue, which wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Profession permits were seriously expensive, and some level of knowledge associated with the permit was necessary.

That immediately restricted several people from their chosen profession and caused a few others, like Logan, who had [Woodcraft Knowledge] to reevaluate their desires.

Gaining System-specific knowledge was fairly difficult. Most of the time it was gained through a class. And as everybody had the same base classes to choose from, plus one evolution at High Copper, that was a very limited pool.

Mel had been lucky to get her alchemy knowledge from Witchblade.

Since Charlie had raided a fair number of Hero’s Tombs during the Elemental Plateaus trial, she had a greater surplus of rune coins than the rest of them. As a result, she pitched in some coins to help buy Gwen’s permit, lightening the burden on the rest of them.

Though mostly it was Mel who benefited by getting a refund of half her [Iron Rune Coins].

It’s not like I would say no to having more of my own money, Mel thought. Maybe I can actually buy some sort of travel-sized cauldron. I know Brookmoors had stuff like that, but who knows if this place does.

Being able to concoct potions while in the trial would be immensely useful. Not only would a trial expose her to an entirely new area with different flora and fauna, but there would also be monsters with alchemical parts she could loot thanks to her profession.

“How were you cooking in the field?” Charlie asked Gwen, placing a hand on the werewolf’s forearm.

“Mostly used instant scrolls or things created with ritual magic,” Gwen answered.

“So, nothing with enhancing imprints?”

“Not much, no. Just from the ingredients themselves.”

Charlie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “There must be something better.” She glanced around, seeming to have something more to say.

This was a public space, so whatever it was, she didn’t want it to be easily overheard.

The other Magi understood, and nobody continued or pressed the conversation.

Sabrina looked over at them. “I feel like I missed something.”

Heath raised a hand. “Me too.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mel told them. “Once we’re home.”

That seemed to make sense to them.

Maddie tapped the side of her nose knowingly.

“So can…the rest of us get professions too?” Nathan asked, shifting around uncomfortably. He had new clothes more fitting with the style of the locals, but Mel could still see he wore his tattered Earth shirt beneath the light flowing robes.

“You got five hundred [Iron Rune Coins]?” Mel asked.

Nathan pulled his pockets inside out. “No, but can I interest you in a ball of lint?”

“We’ll have to work for it,” Bernard told him. “At least we have employment.” He looked sidelong at Mel.

She nodded. “You’re all free to live where you want, but you’ll always be welcome at the…the…” Mel slapped her forehead. “I just realized we never named the Rook!”

“How about the Gassy Pobul?” Gwen suggested right away.

Komachi squeaked one out as if it was a command word triggering a sleeper agent. She woke up, looked startled, and tooted.

The entire group of Magi moved away from that area.

A large orc in a business suit and a slicked back ponytail walked toward the row of guidebooks, picked one up, and immediately began to cough and gag.

He ran out, dropping his book.

Mel set the guidebook down on a coffee table and dropped into a cushy seat off to the side. “Why? Why would you name it that?”

Gwen shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? Everybody loves pobuls. Only eldritch monstrosities don’t.”

“Some gods and goddesses don’t,” Charlie pointed out.

“Only the garbage ones,” Mel said.

Multiple Magi nodded.

Mel looked around. They were a large group knotted together, but they were also inside the Starling Tower. They were as safe as they could be from competitors, since the tower wouldn’t want people fighting in their precious marble lobby.

Still, it wasn’t exactly private, as Charlie had pointed out. A fact that Mel appreciated could work for them when she realized that talking and discussing their tavern in the lobby would let other competitors and rich clientele overhear.

Sylvie’s hair was frazzled and poofy as if she had been tossed around in a dryer without an anti-static sheet. She glared at Komachi, who was peacefully asleep in her arms.

Maybe that’s a good thing that they have so many familiars then, Mel thought. As useful as they could be, they might also prove to be a distraction.

Or that’s just Komachi doing Komachi things. Also, a valid point.

Miranda had a familiar too. Sose, the black furred oppa, was the quiet sort. Very judgmental but didn’t seem to bother anybody in the way that the pobul did. Komachi could get into everybody’s business.

Before they settled in to discuss the Rook’s name in earnest, Mel spotted a familiar figure shuffling nervously into the lobby. “Raincheck on the name,” Mel told them. “Follow me.”

Mel stood up and hurried toward Elian, waving her hand. The fact that he looked unhappy to see her only made Mel’s smile widen.

It’s so good to be somebody else’s problem.