Patrick Laplante
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PU Book 2 - Chapter 11: Indecision
🕑 Added 2024-02-19 23:34:11 +0000 UTCJigolath Ridge was a small city by most standards, largely due to its high elevation and the sad excuse for a road connecting it to the nearest city.
The winds that blew through the mountain city were harsh, something only made worse by its lacking walls. Two cliffs loomed over either side of the city, funneling strong winds into a massive array of turbines that converted excess energy into mana.
There were more cultivators per capita in Jigolath Ridge than anywhere else Sorin had ever been. Over a hundred bone-forging cultivators called this place home, and there were no less than three flesh sanctification cultivators. A necessity, he soon discovered, due to the high density of three-star demons that lurked in the cliffsides and the dark mountain crevices.
The first thing Sorin and their friends did was to find an inn. The guards at the entrance directed them to a solid stone building that hugged the cliffside. The inn was called the Blooming Smile; it was expensive and was known mostly for its therapeutic hot springs.
They spent a full day relaxing and enjoying the inn's superior cuisine that focused on mushrooms and exotic creatures like lizards and spiders. The coffee was especially good, prompting Sorin and Daphne to stock up before Gareth dragged their group over to the Adventurers Guild for official business.
The Adventurers Guild was one of the largest buildings in town. At first, they were skeptical about why this might be, but after looking through the mission board, they soon discovered why this was the case.
"Escorting miners to harvest ores," said Stephan as he read through the board. "Contracts with the Miners Guild and many private mining companies. That's on top of the lucrative demon meat and demon leather industry in the city and the raw alchemical goods that can only be harvested in the region's cave networks." He shook his head. "None of these missions are any good, though, and Haley didn't find anything worth mentioning either."
"These are pretty lucrative, though," said Lawrence.
"But none of them are drive-by jobs," said Gareth, flipping through some of the two-star postings. "They'd all require us to explore these caves for weeks at the very least."
"That's right," said Stephan. "Unless Sorin has something in particular that he'd looking for, I don't see us wanting to stick around."
Sorin declined on the basis that he wasn't very familiar with two-star poisons, a matter only made worse with poisonous ingredients greatly diverging from what the Ten Thousand Poison Canon. He had his suspicions on why this might be the case but decided to reserve his judgment until they arrived in Delphi.
"Looks like our number's up," said Stephan. He took their group to the mission desk and directly asked for any missions they might have. "We'd prefer any missions that will take us by closer to Pengrowth. My sister, Haley York, already inquired about any potential missions, but I thought it would be better to double-check."
"Pengrowth, huh? " muttered the man at the desk, looking through a stack of papers. "Right, there was one request that came in recently. An investigation request from the local Nighthawk Bureau."
"A nighthawk mission?" said Gareth, perking up. " We'll take the mission, but give us some details to work with."
Stephan sighed. "Let's maybe talk about this first before accepting any random mission?"
"You'll accept the mission?" said the excited clerk. "Great! This mission's been sitting around for two weeks without anyone accepting it."
Stephan looked from the determined Gareth to their remaining team members, then sighed. "Please tell us more about the mission."
The clerk fished out a thin folder and handed it to an eager Gareth. "There's not much information on this one. It's like most requests that get made. Something about people acting strange and the Nighthawks wanting external adventurers to check it out."
"And this came in two weeks ago?" said Gareth, looking through the folder. "Have there been any other reports since then?"
"None," said the clerk. "Which is why we were going to close this request soon. False alarms aren't uncommon, especially with everyone being so paranoid in the winter."
"The folio says this mission is in a town called Chelsea," said Sorin, picking up one of the information sheets. "The Chelsea Mines aren't very productive anymore, but they do produce some rare ores. Maybe you could use them to upgrade your armor?"
"Fine," said Stephan, handing his Adventurers Medallion to the clerk. "Mark 'Team We Don't Need a Life Mage' down for the mission."
"Brave name," said the clerk, stamping a few official documents. "Any regrets?"
"It's a name we stand by," said Stephan, accepting the documents and storing them in his Hero Medallion.
"Speaking of 'Team We Don't Need a Life Mage,' I have a few letters addressed to one of your team members," said the clerk. "To a certain Sorin Abberjay Kepler."
Sorin groaned. "Just burn them and report them lost."
"I'm afraid I must insist on making the deliver," said the clerk. "They're taking up a lot of space, and some very influential people paid an absurd amount of gold to ensure that you claimed them. In fact, our guild master won't let you leave until you do."
"Fine," said Sorin, holding out his hand. "Give them here."
The clerk eyed him oddly. "I'm afraid it's not as simple as just handing them over. Please follow me to the conference room, and you'll see what I mean."
Uncertain of what to expect, their team followed the clerk out back and into a conference room. They only waited for a few minutes before the clerk came back with a trolley loaded with boxes. "This is the first batch," said the clerk. "I'll be back with the others shortly."
Thirty minutes later, Sorin sat before a large pile of letters. There were no less than six hundred letters from various entities in Delphi. They'd been forwarded to him by Percival, who'd just arrived in Delphi.
Sorin was still leaning towards burning the letters, but he ultimately refrained from doing so when he saw the large labels pasted to the boxes that specifically stated, 'Don't You Dare Burn These Sorin Abberjay Kepler.'
"I see you weren't joking about the political minefield you're expecting," said Stephan, picking one up. "This one is from someone calling themselves Aunt Marjorie. It is important?"
"Put it in the maybe pile," said Sorin, tearing open another letter, reading through his contents, then affixing it with the 'declined' stamp he'd swiped from the clerk.
"You know, you probably should accept some of these," said Daphne after he'd declined twenty without accepting a single one. "From what I've been told, these small interactions are critical and potentially life-changing. You never know when you'll need a relative's support."
"That's why I'm only declining the less important ones," said Sorin with a twinge of irritation. "And all the ones from outside my family."
"Isn't that a bit short-sighted?" asked Stephan.
"Maybe," admitted Sorin. "But I don't want to get sucked in again. Not after what happened last time." His temper once again started to flare up, but he managed to contain it by suppressing the violence in his blood with his divinity-infused poisons.
"I'm not sure about the exact details of what transpired back then, but you might not have much of a choice in the matter," said Stephan. "You didn't mention the specifics about why you were going to Delphi, but I think I have some idea of what you're up to."
"You know nothing," shouted Sorin, suddenly unable to control himself. Violence suddenly filled his body with strength, and reflexively, he released it. The table exploded, and the letters they'd carefully organized were sent flying throughout the room.
Having finally found an outlet for his frustration, Sorin regained a hint of clarity. His hand was fully covered in black scales, and claws had grown out of it, making him seem less than human.
Taking in a deep breath, he retracted the scales and the claws and pulled the corruption back into his blood. "I apologize," said Sorin. "That display was unseemly."
Unsurprisingly, Gareth came over hefting a golden coin. He looked from Sorin to the coin and frowned. "I'll be checking you regularly for corruption from now on. That display. It wasn't human."
"It's a serpentine ability derived from my unique cultivation method," Sorin lied. "I also have tiny scales covering my entire body."
"It's just a precaution," said Gareth, stowing away the golden coin. "Physical mutations require a large amount of corruption and are typically not reversible."
"All I'm saying is that you should consider it," said Stephan once Gareth was done. "But I'm somewhat familiar with your situation and can see why my words would trigger you."
Sorin looked around at the scattered letters that were no longer separated into categories. "What a mess. This is going to take days."
"I'm somewhat familiar with your family tree and can help sort these into different branches," said Stephan. "Do you want me to keep institutions separate or combined?"
"I can help too!" said Daphne.
"Thank you," said Sorin. "And keep them separate, please. Hopefully, this won't take too long."
Six grueling hours later, most of the letters had been stamped as declined and repackaged into boxes for Percival to write up official replies. There were only three letters stamped as approved. One was the request to purchase a modest house in the New Castle area neighboring the Kepler Medical Institute. The other two were requests to approve new hires, including a secretary who would be handling these letters, as well as a gardener, two maids, and a cook to maintain the facility. All to be paid out of his pocket now that he was earning enough money.
"Why do you even need such a large staff, anyway?" asked Stephan. "Aren't you just rejecting everyone and calling it quits?"
"It's to maintain appearances," explained Sorin. "I don't want to get involved in any plots and plays, but if I want to visit someone or invite them over for a chat, I can't be lacking compared to my neighbors. Also, there's Percival and Clarice to worry about. Do you have any idea how much dusting a house needs to appear presentable in a big city? They're my employees, but that doesn't mean I want to work them to death."
"What about these?" asked Lawrence, who'd been bored out of his mind the entire time. "You've been tossing them between piles but never stamped them."
"Those," said Sorin, snatching the letters from his hands, "are invitations by an elder of the Abberjay Branch, and member of the Lucian Branch, and a member of the Sovinger Branch. I'm probably going to have to accept the Abberjay Branch's invitation, but I'm not so sure about the others."
"Why don't you hedge your bets?" asked Gareth. "Actually, that's probably the question that's being asked by all these letters, isn't it? You could technically accept the Abberjay Elder's invitation and have him handle the rest. But then you'll lose any say you might have in certain matters."
"But if I accept the other invitations, I'll be getting involved in politics," said Sorin. "And I hate politics."
"But you also hate relying on the branch that didn't protect you," said Stephan. "Don't look at me that way; I didn't read your letters. But I'm not incompetent, and I have at least some idea of what happened for you to end up in an outpost in the middle of nowhere."
Sorin honestly didn't know what to do. Perhaps it was due to the mental trauma he'd suffered from the failed attempt on his life, or maybe it was due to the cold treatment he'd received from the Abberjay Branch after he'd lost his ability to cultivate. Either way, it left Sorin paralyzed with indecision.
In the end, he chose to stamp the letters with 'Requires Additional Research,' the closest stamp he could find to 'undecided.' "I think we're done for the time being," said Sorin. "Hopefully, we don't get stuck with a pile like this at our destination."
"You're going to have to decide which way you want to go eventually," said Stephan. "Otherwise, they'll decide for you."
"How would you decide if you were me?" asked Sorin.
"I'd probably just hand everything off to the Abberjay Branch if I were you," said Stephan. "But I can understand why you wouldn't want to do that. You'd lose a lot of freedom."
"What about you, Daphne?" asked Sorin.
"I'm with Gareth," said Daphne. "Hedging your bets is the most reasonable way to go."
Sorin nodded and looked to Lawrence. "Any advice from our team's spymaster?"
"I'm not a big fan of politics," said Lawrence. "I think I'll pass on this question."
"Fair enough," said Sorin. "What about you, Lorimer?"
"Reee!" said the rat. He rubbed his tummy and grinned.
"Of course, you'd play both sides to get tasty things out of them," muttered Sorin. "Ironically, Lorimer would fit right in with my relatives. It makes me wonder if they're rat blood that somehow snuck into our family line."
"That's not being very nice," said Stephan. "You've just insulted a whole species for no good reason."
"By the dead gods, you're right," said Sorin. "My apologies, Lorimer. I meant no offense to you and your noble people." He then looked at the clock on the wall. "I don't think we'll be getting anywhere before nightfall. Does that mean we get to indulge ourselves and sleep in a proper bed for a second consecutive night?"
"As much as I'd like to get going straight away, I suppose that's the only reasonable way to proceed," said Gareth.
"There," said Stephan. "At least something came out of sorting through all those letters."
