Fractured God

Several months passed and Mr. Bentley kept his word. He held firmly in the belief that Ezekiel wasn't to spend a single coin on the branch building. But fate wouldn't allow it to end at just that.

The sound of furniture being thrown was disturbing the silence of the night. The perpetrator was none other than Mr. Bentley with a chair in both hands tossing it around the room, breathing heavily.

He was covered in a mask of worry as he looked around the room and dropped the chair from his hands.

“Damn it, damn it all to hell!”

They were doing especially poorly this week. He'd managed for these past months to keep the quota stable so, at minimum, it wouldn't go down any further. Yet this proved that even if you do everything right, life could decide it isn't enough and take it away from you.

Firstly, this month saw the departure of their top guild for more worthwhile opportunities elsewhere in the country. And the second-best guild. And their fourth. The only guild remaining was from an Amazon woman who cared more about the men of the parish than getting any sort of work done, so he didn't even consider them.

Next were the injuries. With their top guilds gone, it wasn't surprising injuries would be more common. He, however, was surprised by the sheer volume of them. He believed at worst, injuries would double when they in fact quadrupled. It seemed those top guilds did a lot more to keep the others safe than he realised. Which made him feel like he was sticking a knife into the back of the few adventurers left, as he accepted offerings on more shady commissions. They still needed quotas to meet after all.

Which leads to today.

Several hours earlier.

“Trust dude, we got this.” One man said. He wore grey hair and in terms of physical appearance was nothing special. With the departure of the top guilds in the parish, by process of elimination, his guild was now on top.

They sat in Mr. Bentley's office, with the old man constantly patting sweat off of his head.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Even by our standards, this seems especially, um...

well, how do I put this?”

“Come on man, the pay day's sweet right? I've been thinking about making us a new cabin, so I could really use this.”

“Boss, a cabin? Can't get a farm or something? We could use a side hustle or two.” A woman standing beside him said. She too was quite unremarkable, other than a scar or two on her face. She looked to be at the edge of her thirties.

“That's the mindset of a loser, Lana!”

He moved his hand over and patted her hip. She could only sigh and roll her eyes.

“Don't touch me unless you plan on getting me in bed, boy.”

“S-seriously?” He cleared his throat and turned to her.

She smirked and winked his way.

(“Ah, youth… I wonder if any of my old flings are still alive, sigh. Well, excluding her.”) Mr. Bentley thought as he watched them.

The man in front of him blushed when he noticed Mr. Bentley’s gaze and quickly got up. “We’ll have it finished by the end of the day. It's just a few bandits bothering some farmers right? Damn, I sorta feel like I'm stealing from those villagers for accepting this much.”

He gave Mr. Bentley a thumbs up before leaving with his woman friend.

(“I'm not sure I would even stop him if I could. We need the money if we still want to be able to afford our potions, no that isn't right, earn our potions.”) He thought with a grimace on his face.

Mr. Bentley thought nothing of it and waited for the good news. Even if the commission was shady, he was sure he could take on a few bandits in his old age, so a group of young adventurers were fine even if it was larger than the ten stated in the commission.

They returned a few hours later and Mr. Bentley could already tell there was something wrong based on the shouting and rushed footsteps he heard. He was sitting in the lounge, reviewing a few documents until he noticed the adventurers returning.

The woman entered first and her clothes were tattered with a few new scars across her. She looked worried and the reason why soon came in from behind her.

Two other men held in their arms a man, with a bloody bandage over his eyes and a leg missing.

Mr. Bentley could only sigh as he looked on.

“Please, we have to-” the woman desperately asked.

“Just a moment, I'll get the potions ready.”

He stated before quickly making his way towards the storage room. The woman breathed a sigh of relief before hearing a very loud-

“Damn it all!”

He quickly rushed to the room to see Mr. Bentley kicking a nearby box.

“Sir?”

“We're out of potions! Get that boy to a doctor as quickly as you can manage!” He shouted.

She immediately turned around and took the men outside with her. In the end, he ended up losing his leg and his vision completely. While his leg was questionable, if a few potions were still here they might have saved his vision.

He was informed what happened a few minutes later and he felt like his blood was going to boil. The bandits… were far greater in numbers than imagined. They were a wanted group deeper in the country that was trying to lie low in the countryside. And they were 50 men strong. Not only did the village lie about the amount of bandits that were present, they also lied about the amount of money they had to spare. It was less than a tenth of the agreed-upon amount.

Not only did he have his current best adventurer crippled, excluding the Amazon, but he also did so for an amount he could have earned in three days normally.