Rise of the Archmage Alister

“A job? Yeh coulda just posted it like a normal person, Boss. I mean was it that important?” he sighed, folding his arms. The man looked at Blas, then to the kids, and then finally back to Marabell, “It’s some political shit ain’t it.”

“You know it,” Marabell laughed again, walking up to the greying bearkin, “I’d rather my brother trust his little job to my people than some other company! Besides, yeah it’s political but it’s a fun little task. Just sending a message.”

“Marabell, please. I can explain the situation myself,” Blas interjected, stepping forward a pace. He gave the mercenaries a small polite nod, “Hello. I feel I don’t need to introduce myself but I will anyway. I am Duke Blas Severin. I hope my request will not be too onerous, but I ensure that I will pay well for your services. I wish to send a message, yes, but that makes it sound far simpler than it is.”

The man groaned as he stood up, as tall as the gigantic Marabell, “Messenger requests are rarely simple when yer askin’ mercenaries for it. Let’s go to a room. Politics shit is a pain n’ usually prefers private. Not that any of us are gonna care, but y’know. Proper an’ stuff.”

“Ah right yeah, fair,” Marabell mused, wobbling her head back and forth, “Mm. Private’s probably best. Such a pain when things get socially serious. I much prefer the jobs where I can just be pointed towards something that needs dead, and I make it dead.” She followed the man to another adjacent room in the building, and another of the mercenaries followed the two of them back. Harriet hurried after as soon as she noticed they had moved, tearing her eyes away from the trophies. Blas just looked on with a slow sigh before he followed as well, looking to Alister to make sure he, too, was coming along.

The room was a simple meeting room with a table in the center and chairs on either side, a plant was in a corner and a couple of simple pictures were hung on the wall, but otherwise it looked so bare. Clean, but very plain like they didn’t care for decorating; too much effort for not enough purpose.

“Sorry,” the man said as he huffed and sat in one of the chairs, the wood giving a creak in complaint, “Ya introduced yourself but I didn’t say anything. I’m Dren. This-” He motioned to the other man, a human with a scar on his face and short brown hair who sat next to him, “is Jon. In the entry was Fivin and Sam. They can’t take a job right now - got one that starts soon - but Jon and I can take one, assuming we can manage it.”

“Oh you definitely can,” Marabell grinned, “I think two people is great for it.”

“I can explain, sister. Please,” Blas sat across from the two men, exasperated by how enthusiastic his sister-in-law could be. That his little brother dealt with it all the time never failed to surprise him. He glanced at the kids. Harriet was bouncing her legs in the chair, staring at the mercenaries a bit too directly, already eager to move again, meanwhile Alister was calmly seated next to him waiting for something to happen. Marabell motioned for him to go ahead, and Blas gave her a tired smile in response. “My request is to deliver a message into the mountains to the northwest between our kingdom and Dusau. There is an orcish tribe in Idala’s Wall that I want to get in contact with and make a trade agreement. However, because of the fact that they’re monsterkin, I can hardly approach that publicly. Considering they are orcs, I am not sure they will be literate, so I may also need one of you to read the message and write their response as a part of the job.”

Dren nodded as he spoke, considering the proposition, “Mm… Well that’s a pain to get out there, but I think I know what tribe yer talking about. And doin’ anything with the orcs is always interesting - killing or talking. So I’m happy to take it on. Jon?”

The quieter man nodded, “Yeah. Sounds good. Fun trip.”

“Looks like we’ll take it on. Give us the details and we’ll fill out a contract for the job real quick,” Dren continued, “I don’t care what the politics of it are, but don’t worry ‘bout the secrecy part. We won’t say nothin’. Not good for business if we chat about.”

Blas smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes as he nodded, glancing again at Alister, “A war will be happening soon. Not sure what shape it will take yet, in the grand scheme of things… but it will happen. I see no path forward in which it won’t.” He sighed, expression becoming much colder and more serious, “I need to send the letter to the orcs to request information on Dusau from them. Since they go between both sides of the range, they have a unique perspective of their movements. I will offer supplies to them, things like food or tools, in return for their information. Ideally I will be able to continue to use their eyes and ears as a hint of what may be happening this far south in Dusau.” He pulled out a prewritten letter from his pockets and set it on the table in front of them, “I would like to hear their reply as well, so the second part of expectations will be to write down their reply if they cannot write it themselves, and I will pick up the response on our way back up to Rythwith.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dren nodded, “We can set up to head out tonight.”

The two started talking price, with Marabell confusingly playing both sides with a grin since she owned the company and yet was a Severin too. As much as Harriet was supposed to be paying attention (and she was trying her best), she was swiftly losing interest and clearly daydreaming in her seat. She wondered what orcs were like and what fighting one would be like, and imagined it was way more fun than noble stuff. Alister meanwhile was also losing some focus but was interested in the topic for the sake of the politics of it. The situation with the orcs and with Dusau could be really beneficial if it went well, but there was the small worry in the back of his mind that the orcs may find such an offer a little insulting. That said, they’d probably accept it anyway. Since no one saw them as people, they had few options for supplies like his father offered, with the cost relatively low.

They ended discussions after a few minutes with a handshake and half the coin trading hands across the table. Harriet started to ask her mom questions as soon as they were back outside and finished with chatting, all of her quiet spent on staying still indoors.

“Mom, how do you know how many coins are right?”

Marabell laughed, “Usually I just go with what feels right. But there’s a chart your dad made for the company to have a starting point for costs. Like… messenger tasks start at one cost, combat tasks start at another, and then you keep adding stuff for what is extra. Like for this one it adds some for it dealing with monsterkin. And it adds some for being in difficult terrain. So that gives a guideline for it. I’m so happy your dad’s so smart with maths like that. I never really got it. Never interested me. But having that for a starting point makes it way easier. Then you should add something if you don’t like the person asking. And you can go from there and get a feeling for it. I like to just get a feel for how hard and fun something will be and how much money the person has and then make it more or less with that.”

Harriet nodded, her little face serious and thoughtful, “How do you know how hard something is gonna be?”

“Do it more and you’ll get a feeling for it. You’ll get the hang of it in no time - the more ya fight the more you’re used to the fights and the more you want to fight more and you’ll get an instinct for the difficulty,” Marabell paused, “Well, that is if ya like fighting. Some people don’t. Like your dad and uncle and stuff. And that’s ok too.”

Blas cleared his throat as they walked, “I don’t… mind a good fight now and then. I enjoy the rush. It’s just that there’s a big difference fighting dungeons to fighting beasts… and an even bigger difference with fighting real people… I do not have a warrior’s heart for that sort of fight. But… when the time comes and things get bloody and difficult, I do appreciate having people around that live for the fight.”

Marabell laughed, clapping Blas on the shoulder, sending him stumbling for a step again, “Well people like me appreciate you too, Blas! Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about the letter. My company’s the best!”

He coughed, rubbing his shoulder, “Thank you…”