Capítulo 45: 43. Lyubov of the Unremitting Mist
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"Heeey, Giles! Got word of any unique jobs I can take?"
The moustachioed bartender smiled as I hopped up to the counter, drumming my hands on the oak wood as I did so. "You've been taking a job every day for the past couple of weeks, and now you're asking for a job on the first day of the year? You should take it slow. Get some rest."
"Nope. Not gonna happen. Gotta do something productive or I'll do something stupid instead." His words were sincere, but he knew the answer before I gave it.
"Ever the overachiever," he said as he put a cup on the table and started to fill it with bread. I watched in confusion as he started to pour lemon juice and 151 proof rum over the bread peels.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, I figured this would work better for you than your usual coffee. Consider it a gift, to my favourite wizard." He reached into his apron and pulled out a lighter, igniting the contents of the glass. The flames stood easily over half a foot out of the glass, and the height seemed to be more noticeable as he sprinkled cinnamon into the column. "Enjoy, slayer."
He left me alone with the flaming glass as he entered a room behind the counter.
It was a routine I found myself familiar with ever since I started taking jobs independent of Totomaru. I'd come in at six in the morning, just as Giles had started his shift and the coffee was hot, even more so today than usual it seemed, with Giles usually having reserved a high-paying job he thought I'd be willing to take in exchange for five to ten percent of the earnings.
I'd be gone for a day or two, a week at most,
It was a deal I was more than willing to take, and one I haven't regretted. Giles, as a hiree from a separate guild, gets paid to work both the bar and manage the incoming job requests using his Archive magic. And it is this Archive magic that gives Giles and the Curly Caterers guild their prestige. Sorting out information is simple, efficient, and if the rumours of them all being trained in some level of assassination and self-defense are true, lethal. After all, having even one of these caterers working in your service is considered a sign of prestige, and gathering information on those they work with is as simple as a press of a button. That same information can easily be sold, and then, used against the client.
It's risky, but the quality of service is unparalleled. Giles, by himself, is capable of running the entirety of the Phantom Lord serving staff in and around Oak Town. It is no wonder that the guild rocketed into popularity after their newest guild master invented the magic.
What makes them so favoured, too, is the exclusivity of the magic. By patent law, the guild master is not obligated to sell the magic to anyone they don't want to, with only the Magic Council being the exception as someone in the council's service had to be taught the spell so it can be preserved and as proof of patent.
And yes, I asked him if he could teach me Archive and he refused without further elaboration.
Still, Giles is someone I've grown to respect. His ability to efficiently deal out jobs to those who are best suited for them is unparalleled amongst the staff, with most jobs being put onto the request board since anyone could do them in his eyes.
It was Giles' ability to know exactly what type of job I wanted, jobs with notoriety and publicity, jobs with lives on the line that needed my full attention to prevent myself from going directly to the capitol and trying to find him. And if I gain the attention of the Council myself, all the better.
Consuming the flames, my gaze wandered across the nearly empty guild hall, observing wizards scattered across dimly lit tables and benches in various states – some dishevelled and tired, others brimming with energy. Given the early hour of six in the morning, it wasn't surprising to find individuals still recovering from the previous night's revelry, some just waking up, and a few, including myself, fully prepared for the day ahead. Interestingly, the fiery sustenance had proven to be more energizing than anticipated, even leaving me pleasantly satiated.
Maybe I should incorporate more fire in my diet…
While my attention was fixed on a distinctively familiar mass of spiky black hair – a sight I often encountered in the underground fighting rings – I noticed Giles reentering through the door situated behind the bar. His face adorned a smile that practically shouted "Opportunity!" at full volume.
"You're next job is waiting for you in the S-Class lounge upstairs. Good luck, and don't be afraid to decline if you feel yourself out of your depth."
"S-Class lounge?"
"Indeed. You, my friend, might very well be getting a promotion. One quite lucrative for us both."
I tried to suppress the smile on my face by devouring the rest of the flames. I could hear Giles' chuckle as I hopped off of the stool and made my way up to the lounge where only the staff, the guild master, and S-Class ranked wizards were allowed to go.
Entering the room with "Lounge" carved into the dark wooden door, I was met with a comfortable-looking room fit with dark purple couches that would look more at home in a noble's mansion.
In the middle, two of those couches were facing each other with a table in between them. Barely visible through the smoke permeating the air was the eldest of the Elemental Four, Lyubov of the Unremitting Mist, puffing from a hookah. She stared at me with intrigue as I walked in, never once letting go of the hookah's mouth.
"Well then. This is interesting," she said in a rough voice, the middle-aged woman placing the smoking tool in a dish to the side as she crossed her legs and knitted her fingers. "Giles told me he'd send someone that doesn't mind dying. That boy has never made mistakes before, he knows better than that, and yet he sent a child? What is your name and magic, girl?"
"Lyssa. Fire devil slayer, healing flame, darkness, enchanting, transformation, and a few black magic spells."
"Darkness, huh? That's quite a skillset and a dangerous path for one so young to travel down. You know what they say; when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. You think you can handle that?"
"Whether or not I can means nothing to me. The rewards are more important than how I get there."
The forty-year-old looked at me with piercing brown eyes for several moments before a chilling smirk carved its way across her face.
"Spoken like a true fool. Just what I was hoping for. Sit, let's go over the details."
As Lyubov waved her hand, the mist from her fingers manipulated the air's smoke. A letter, pulled by misty hands from across the room, landed before us. Opening the parchment, Lyubov revealed a holographic projection of the guild master, Jose.
"Lyubov, an urgent request from the Magic Council requires your immediate presence within the next day. You, along with any trusted individuals you choose, are tasked with overseeing a crucial shipment from Oshibana Station to the capital of Crocus. The cargo consists of three freights, one containing enough Etherion to generate approximately 1.7 million Edeas of magic power, while the other two serve as decoys. We cannot disclose which is which in this letter due to the recent surge in attacks on trains and mobile caravans.
While the suspected target is the Etherion shipment, the attackers have been indiscriminately kidnapping or killing passengers and stealing transportation. Your primary objective is to secure the Etherion transport. All other 'passengers' will be undercover royal soldiers working to identify the attackers. Maintain your cover. Successful transportation carries a reward of 10 billion jewels, with a bonus of half that for identifying the attackers if the situation arises. The outcome of this mission will greatly influence our standing with the Council, so I should not need to say what will happen to you in particular should you fail."
The hologram disappeared after the message ended, leaving the S-Class to lean back on the couch. Her face was stone cold, not a drop of sarcasm left on her face.
"Etherion. Normal humans and most mages can't even come close to the stuff, let alone touch it, without experiencing extreme detriments due to concentrated ethernano exposure. Anything more than an hour is a death sentence, which is why it requires specific methods of containment. If it cracks, well…"
"And it's used to fuel the Satellite Square: Etherion, the Magic Council's strongest weapon."
"Smart kid. But yeah, that's exactly why they want it so bad. For some reason, the country of Alvarez has been looking towards our shores a little too closely for the Council's liking. Even if they won't say it, we're in a tad bit of an arms race just for security. You know how governments and their lethal dick-measuring contests are. So, you ready to go even if you're probably about to die?"
"Well, I am a fool aren't I?"
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Giles concept (Age: 27) ->
Lyubov concept (Age: 42) ->
Estado de energía semanal
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