Fractured God

A person slowly opened the door and Mr. Bentley tried to straighten himself out before he turned to them.

“Sorry, we closed right now, though I can come out to meet with you short- Oh, it's you Ezekiel.” He said, almost disappointed.

“Whoa, what's with that reaction old man?” He asked as he looked inside. “Don't tell those pricks were getting rowdy with you?” He asked as he surveyed the inside.

“Don't worry about that, it was a warranted reaction from them.” The old man lied. He sat down in a nearby chair and signalled for the boy to come over. “Have you heard about today?” He stated, sounding tired.

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow and approached him.

“What a load of crap, can't you force them to hand it over?” Ezekiel, his face seeped in anger. The old man was struggling enough, who the fuck did these pricks think they were hitting him with this shit?

He got up out of his chair and the old man had to grab his hand. “Hold on, you'll only cause more damage!” He said.

“If the bastards think this is a charity they have another thing coming to them. Don't worry old man, I'll get those bastards to give you what you're due.”

“Ease yourself up boy, we can't act like thugs, the support of the people is all we have!”

“Support? You call getting screwed over support?”

Mr. Bentley sighed before continuing. “They had a reason for lying. It seems like our parish’s lord had been dragging his foot when it came to the matter. They even told our friends afterwards to send him the bill.”

“So did you?” He asked as he sat back down, looking back into his father's eyes.

“Of course not, it'd be laughable to do so. It was between us, not me and the Lord. That'd be another matter entirely. People assume the world works far more simply than it actually does.”

“Then let me go over there and convince them!” He begged.

“Nowadays we depend on so many of the things we can't get from the guild. Rations for explorations, weapons, armour, hell even clothing since we run through that quickly.” He gritted his teeth and rubbed his head. “Goodwill isn't something you can throw away so easily… we can't afford to lose the support of even one of those bastards because we felt like getting what we were due. Honestly…” He hesitated as he continued. “I think it's time to end it. There isn't much more we can-”

Ezekiel gripped his Father's shoulder tightly. “Old man quit being so fucking stubborn and let me help you out!” He shouted.

Mr. Bentley looked taken aback and Ezekiel looked away somewhat embarrassed. “How much is it? How much more do you need to be able to keep supporting this place, I'll go give you it out with my own money!” He shouted.

The old man opened his mouth but shook his hand. “Just let it end, Ezekiel, it wasn't meant to be. If and when they send a letter taking back our potions, I'll inform them I'm stepping down from this position and would suggest they close this branch down for the foreseeable future. I could use the time off anyway.”

He stated before getting up. He gave Ezekiel a pat on the shoulder.

“I understand wanting to help, but I'd prefer it used for something permanent. Not for a hobby of this old man here.” He stated before heading towards the stairs.

Ezekiel could only look towards him with defiance, watching as he made his way up the stairs.

The day had finally come. A letter had been sent to the capital addressed to the branch building. The supplies would come the following week but he could already guess what the letter stated. But he held hope and prayed with crossed fingers, that those bastards in the capital would take mercy upon them and give them a chance to meet the quota next month. Because if not, this was the death of adventuring in this parish.

He opened the letter and….

He breathed a sigh of relief and fell to his knees on the floor.

It would go on for at least one more month. This miserable branch building would go on for at least one more month! He didn't know why he felt so relieved. Anyone could see his hair greyed far quicker the moment he took the job. Even then, he couldn't help but smile at seeing the news.

He picked himself up and decided to read the letter in his office, knowing it would still be his.

As he sat at his table, the joy he experienced earlier was replaced with confusion. He looked at how well the guild did with quotas and they nearly smashed their goal. It was easily 50% more than the Guild HQ was expecting.

“An accounting error?” He said as he looked through this section. He moved a hand over his body in a cross formation and clasped his hands.

“I can only pray this stays. Still, for them to make such an egregious error. Well… right the potions! I better give that young man a few. Even if we do lose them next month I have to ensure all people get them! I know we couldn't keep his legs preserved, but if we give him half then we should be able to restore his vision, I don't think the damage was that severe. He deserves as much for what he went through.”

He immediately began drafting a letter to them, telling them to get ready for healing potions in the coming days.

His son soon knocked on the door and came inside.

“Hold old man, you ready to say goodbye to this… woah what's up with the expression?”

“It seems the gods have blessed me on this day.” The old man responded.