Fractured God

“Homeland?”

“You don't need to know that information. Now let me summarise the main points. No matter what you do, how you do it, who does it and even why you do it, people within this parish are going to die. Now I feel this will be quite a messy affair if your people and my people were to get into altercations with each other.”

“Just get out with it, what are you trying to suggest?” Mr. Bentley asked impatiently.

“I suggest we work together.”

“I know that part idiot.”

“Let me finish. Old men like us shouldn't be so impatient, after all, we've had a whole lifetime to learn some patience. What I'm suggesting is, we coordinate and select the best times for us to… farm a few pigs. You make sure your men aren't anywhere near us and we carry out our business.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

The priest snapped his finger and a follower of his with a mane approached with a large sack. He pushed the chair off and dropped it on the table, with the poor thing sounding like it was begging not to be broken.

Mr. Bentley pulled it towards him and looked inside. He wore a masterful poker face as he inspected it. The same could not be said for Ezekiel, he looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

Mr. Bentley quickly punched his shin and turned back to the young-looking boy.

“You know we aren't a business you can purchase, correct? While guaranteed money is nice, flowing money is what builds a relationship.”

The priest couldn't help but giggle at that response. “My superiors are well aware of how much working in tandem with local figures of authority can make this process substantially easier. Which is why that is just a sample.”

“Sample?”

“Correct, I was planning on negotiating but I didn't think it'd be this easy. You will receive that amount quarterly if you work with us.”

“!”

“!”

Neither Bentley nor Ezekiel could hide their shock.

(“Shit, with that much money… We could afford a lot more supplies. What is it? I believe we are allowed four potions a month, currently. With this, we could easily double or triple the amount we receive. Forget barely staying afloat, we could actually afford to give out supplies to the guilds.”)

He quickly shook the dollar signs from his eyes and looked at the priest straight-faced.

“What purpose exactly do these people's deaths serve? I mean no disrespect to the dear people of our parish but-” He cut himself as thought immediately flew into his head. “How many do you plan on killing exactly?”

“Hmm, that's a good one. I'd say, about a village or so every quarter of the year should be fine.”

“I need a number, Sir.”

“Let's say about thirty to fifty people every quarter of the year.”

With that amount of money, even if it was a few farm workers it didn't make too much sense.

“There has to be something more to this.”

“That depends on your answer.” The priest immediately retorted.

“Hmm. Give me a moment.” He asked the short man.

(“Given what Ezekiel told me a moment ago, we'd lose him as a source of income. Even with the support of the parish, that doesn't exactly translate to a solid source of gold. This parish isn't exactly known for wealth. And this money is very much appreciated. However, how long would this last? This relationship is as volatile as a barrel of gasoline. Damn, I just don't have enough information to make a choice.”)

“Just to clarify, you did this is something you'd do regardless, correct?”

“Indeed, we need these bodies one way or another.”

“Hmm, do you have anything else other than cash? I'd like some sort of proof to see if your word is true. About the fact you could be easily replaced, specifically.”

“Tsk, fine. I know I'm not going to show this under regular circumstances but I feel this is a very lucrative deal.”

He pulled something out of his pocket and showed it to Mr. Bentley. It was an insignia of some kind. It appeared to show two worlds.

“Please test it with your mana.”

Mr. Bentley immediately broke out into a cold sweat upon seeing it. He quickly grabbed it and ran some mana through it.

It was made of a certain alloy only royalty could get a hold off. By itself, it suggested either he was connected to or was someone important like a diplomat. But the insignia of the country he represented was an unusual one.

“What!? I thought that nation had no known survivors!?”

“Haha, it's funny how people assumed we all died simply because we no longer allowed outsiders in our nation.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Enough with the questions old man. Is it a yes to complying with us or not? Do you know I wouldn't have told you that information if I wasn't confident I could have you all dead with little effort on my part?”

Mr. Bentley still looked somewhat unconvinced.

“But what about-”

The two engaged in further discussions and it soon went into the night. Fortunately or rather worryingly, the few adventurers that did stop by were somewhat used to this type of situation and quickly left.

Finally, after several more hours of talking, the two came to an agreement.

“You certainly are skilled with your mouth, Mr. Bentley.” The priest stated as he reached his hand out.

“How else would I live this long working with people like you?” He answered before shaking his hand.

“I hope you can have a fruitful relationship with The Marrow of Lucifer.”