Chapter 6: Gettin’ Paid (Patreon)

People in the streets of Kalfath moved out of the way as a one-legged man limped down the street, caked in dried blood. Over his shoulder was a rope lashed to a sled chock full of weapons and overstuffed burlap sacks that rang with a metallic chime every time they shifted.

Some might have been tempted to steal from the sled, were it not for the dozen or so severed heads that rested on top of the pile of booty.

*** Zlesk Frantel, Sheriff of Kalfath ***

“No, you don’t understand,” Zlesk said, glaring at Bree. “That wasn’t my signature.”

“Looks like your signature.” The obstinate desk-jockey said, the barrel of a woman scowling at him as she pointed between Jeb’s fake and a zoning form for an outdoor hunter recruitment bazaar he’d signed for them a few years back.

“But I didn’t write it! He forged it using another signature I gave him!” Zlesk said, his ire rising. “I suggested that you not allow him to join the association!”

“You said he couldn’t read. He said he couldn’t read.”

“Obviously he paid someone to help him!”

Zlesk leaned forward, unafraid of the oversized melas in front of him.

“Listen, that man is incredibly weak, stupid, and dangerously foolhardy. He was a homeless bum until yesterday. Did you know that? He’s only level six, for god’s sakes!”

“It’s not my problem if people want to get themselves killed biting off more than they can chew. Keeps the gene pool fresh.”

Zlesk let out a hum of anger. “Listen here. On my authority as sheriff, I want you to strike him from the record, and kick him out the next time he shows up. The man is dangerously incompetent, and he’s going to get other people –“

The door to the flimsy little Hunter’s association office slammed open, revealing the one-legged man in question. He gave Zlesk a sheepish wave.

Zlesk almost sighed in relief, but disguised it with anger.

“Jeb, where the hell did you go last night? I had to-“

Before Zlesk could finish his cuss-out session, Jeb turned toward the door, heaving on the rope, giving a heavy grunt as he hauled a sled up the stairs and into the wooden room.

Zlesk felt the words die in his throat as head after head slid in through the doorway, sitting atop a pile of what was obviously pirate weapons and treasure.

“Think you can ring this up for me, Bree?” Jeb said, motioning to the heads.

“I said something as small as a finger would work.” The clerk grumbled, opening the bar of the desk and motioning for Jeb to run the sled through.

“Fingers wouldn’t have stopped people from mugging me on the way in,” Jeb said.

“Fair enough.”

Jeb tossed her the rope and the two of them shoved the pile of loot through the gap in the desk. A moment later, Zlesk heard Old Grindy grinding up the heads to identify them.

RRRRR

“Hey Zlesk, what are you doing here?” Jeb asked, leaning up against the front desk, panting and wiping his brow, sweating in the disgusting way that humans did.

“I was –“

“Neil Spetvar, three bulbs!” came a shout from the back.

Zlesk blinked.

RRRRR

“Jonan Korde, five bulbs!”

Zlesk glanced between Jeb and the doorway leading to Old Grindy, where Bree was tallying the bounties aloud.

“Svek Pederson, twelve bulbs!”

“Nothing,” Zlesk said with a sigh. “I wasn’t doing anything here.”

“Cool. Beer after you get off work?”

Zlesk glared at the smug upstart.

“Last time we went out for beer, you used me and left me with an enormous mess to clean up.”

“This time…will be different!” Jeb said over the sound of Old Grindy rendering heads into juice and Bree’s deep voice calling out numbers.

“Better be,” Zlesk muttered as Bree emerged from the back, carrying Jeb’s payment in tightly packed leather holsters that made the gold visible from the side.

“Sixty-two imperial marks,” she said, placing two holsters on the desk. One was completely full and one halfway full of gold coins.

“Bree, would it be possible for you to hook me up with a bank account?” The homeless kill-savant asked, wiggling the leather pouch. “I don’t feel like getting stabbed again.”

“Normally no, but for your illiterate ass, I’ll make an exception.” Bree said.

“Stabbed again?” Zlesk asked.

“Sorry Zlesk, I’d love to stay and chat, but I got some more business to take care of, and it’s pretty time sensitive.” Jeb said, grabbing a handful of bulbs before limping back out the way he came.

“Will you hold my stuff for the night?” He asked Bree on the way out the door.

“Twenty-four hours and then it’s mine.” Bree responded, not bothering to look up from her paperwork.

“Thanks, Bree!”

“What do you mean, stabbed again!?” Zlesk called after the limping bum. He tried to reach out to grab the man’s arm and demand some explanations, but an undefinable sense of danger halted him in his tracks, allowing Jeb to slip out of the office, stomping down the wooden stairs and out into the crowd.

“I think you’ve got better people to worry about, mother hen,” Bree muttered as she worked.

“Yeeaah, I got it,” Zlesk growled, taking his leave.

Starting to think that guy lied on his census papers.

***Jebediah Trapper***

Six bulbs bought Jeb a fancy new outfit, a damn good shave, slicked back hair, a rough, manly perfume that smelled like wood and toughness. Two bulbs for a wicked looking new sword that he was sure he wouldn’t need, and the sheath to go along with it. He got a nice leather cowboy hat made for a couple silver too, because why not?

Inspecting himself in the burnished mirror of the room, Jeb had to admit, he looked like a successful bounty hunter. Gotta spend money to make money, and this con wouldn’t really work without the right look.

God, I just hope word hasn’t spread already. Jeb thought. He could still punish Mr. Grenore, one way or the other, but he’d like to profit from it if he could.

“Alright, you wait here while I talk to your dad, okay?” Jeb asked Seraine. The girl nodded. “We’re just gonna work some payment stuff out real quick, then you’re good to go home.”

“Are you gonna keep me if he doesn’t pay you?” She asked, looking small, tucked up on the inn’s bed.

Jeb held up his right hand. “I swear, whether your dad pays me or not. You are going home after I speak to him.”

Click. Jeb felt the promise click into place inside him like a lock. He felt as though he couldn’t renege on it if he wanted to. Thankfully, it was a promise he was happy to follow through on.

Jeb paused with his hand on the door handle, a thought occurring to him. Screwing over her dad was going to hurt her too, possibly more than it did her dad.

“Seraine,” he said, turning to face her.

“Yeah?”

“Would you rather live in blissful ignorance, or suffer through a painful reality, if it allowed you to take control of your life?”

“…” She watched him silently from beneath the covers.

“…I want control.” She said, barely audible.

“Okie dokie,” Jeb said, tipping his hat before heading out. He left the girl there and clomped a few blocks down to Garland Grenore’s place of business, an eyesore of a building that dominated the local architecture by a full story.

Jeb watched as a wagon full of what appeared to be rocks covered in sticky black oil were hauled into the warehouse on the bottom floor. Jeb shrugged and followed the wagon in.

“Hold up, who the hell are you?” A brawny melas asked as Jeb entered the building. He had a flat nose and his nostrils flared as he crossed his arms. The very picture of businesslike intimidation.

“I’ve got news Mr. Grenore is going to want to hear. It’s about his daughter.” Jeb said.

The Melas eyed him for a moment, then nodded, motioning for Jeb to follow him.

“Right this way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I hope you know that if this is a waste of his time, I’m going to have to beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Understood. I fully expect that Mr. Grenore will get what he needs out of our meeting.”

A goddamn wake-up call. You don’t use your daughter as collateral on a debt and expect a happy ending. You just don’t do it. Jeb’s fingers brushed the two letters in his vest pocket, absentmindedly making sure they were still there.

There was the one Smartass had found in the man’s own safe, and the one Jeb had looted out of Svek’s personal chest.

Together, they painted a pretty damning picture.

“Here,” The Melas said, opening the door for Jeb to enter.

Jeb strode through, back straight, and the hulking Melas followed in a moment later, cutting off any chance Jeb had of running away should things sour too badly.

Directly in front of Jeb was the man who’d stolen his silver coin, shuffling through papers with a pair of bifocals hanging on his nose.

“What’s this, then?” Mr. Grenore said, scowling at the interruption. His eyes flickered over Jeb dismissively, not showing a hint of recognition.

The homeless bum in the street might as well be an entirely separate person.

“Says he’s got news about Ms. Seraine,” the bruiser said.

“What are you, another messenger, come to raise the ransom again? I thought I already told you if you did, I’d pay for an imperial enforcer to be dispatched.”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” Jeb said with a shrug.

Mr. Grenore’s eyebrow cocked.

“A human bounty hunter? Lees, please escort this man from the premises.”

Jeb felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“I went through the Impossible tutorial!” Jeb said before he could be dragged out.

“Oh?” Jeb saw cold calculus flash across the man’s gaze. “Wait there a second, Lees.” Garland opened his desk and winced a moment as he clipped a familiar golden earring onto his ear-hole.

“Say that again.”

“My name’s Jebediah Trapper,” Jeb said. “I’m one of the survivors of the Impossible tutorial.”

Garland’s brows rose. “Interesting. What level are you?”

“Thirty nine. Plus, I’ve consumed at least half a dozen Attribute potions and earned a similar number of Accolades.”

Jeb met the man’s gaze. “I am absolutely confident I can return your daughter to you.”

“And the kidnappers?” the greedy keegan, asked, eyes glittering with barely constrained joy at the sudden solution to his problems.

“I’m more than capable of killing the likes of them. They won’t leave that mountain alive.”

“What do you want for it?” Grenore asked.

“I don’t know what the final total they would have tried to extort out of you would be,” Jeb said. He’d seen the first note, but criminals tended to move goalposts. “But I will return your daughter to you for two hundred and fifty bulbs.”

“And afterward,” Jeb said with a business smile. “Svek and his pirates won’t be drawing breath.”

“I could’ve hired a team of mercenaries to exterminate those pirates for that much,” Garland said, scowling at Jeb.

“Really? I doubt it.”

“…I’m not paying you in advance.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to pay me before I’ve delivered your daughter,” Jeb said.

“Alright then.” Mr. Grenore said. “It’s a deal.”

“Return your daughter, no more pirates.” Jeb said, extending his hand.

“For two hundred and fifty bulbs.” Mr. Green said, clasping his boney fingers around Jeb’s own.

A little spark seemed to travel up through Jeb’s arm and settle in his heart, and he knew the Deal had been struck.

Excellent.

Jeb smiled at the asshole and the asshole smiled back. At least Jeb thought he was smiling. It was hard to tell with a keegan. Either way, there were bared teeth all around.

Jeb turned and left the office, casually clomping down the street back towards his room at the Inn.

***

Seraine was sitting in bed, stabbing the post with Jeb’s shaving knife. Jeb was just happy she hadn’t disappeared. If he didn’t deliver the girl, his Deal would fall through and he’d get no impact whatsoever.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” He said as he entered. “Do you wanna get supper or something before we go to your dad’s place?”

Seraine gave him a blank stare.

“No supper?”

She shook her head.

“Alright, it’ll look a little unnatural getting you home this fast, but I am pretty amazing. Get’cher coat.”

Seraine got her coat and the two of them left the room.

***

“A-already!?” Mr. Grenore asked, his slack jaw nearly bumping Seraine’s head.

Jeb was standing in the same office he’d been roughly half an hour ago, this time with the addition of Seraine Grenore, who had glomped her father in the picture of an innocent hug of pure relief.

It made Jeb’s stomach churn, but he couldn’t play his hand right out the gate. The rules of a Deal, according to Smartass, were that he had to allow the other party a chance to repay the debt in good faith.

“My payment?” Jeb asked.

“I don’t have that kind of cash on hand. I’ll have to liquidate some stock. Give me a week.”

Jeb’s eyes narrowed, calculating. The businessman was obviously wary of Jeb’s strength now. His posture was less confident, more guarded. His security guard stood an extra step further away from Jeb. Closer to the door.

If Jeb pushed for his payment right now, Garland might actually cave and give Jeb something of equivalent value. It felt strange to say, but Jeb actually wanted the other party to act in bad faith. It was the only way Jeb could claim an intangible asset to raise his Myst.

If he gave the guy a week…the odds were actually pretty good the businessman’s fear of Jeb’s uncanny speed and power would dull, and the desire to hold onto his money would grow. That’s just how scumbags worked.

Since Jeb had already delivered, the ball was in his court. He had Garland Grenore by the balls.

The guy just didn’t know it yet.

Now I just need to give him a time and place for a clever ambush to put me at a disadvantage.

“Here. Saturday after next, one in the afternoon.” Jeb said. “I’ll be coming for my payment then.”

“Generous. Thank you. I’ll have your money then,” Garland Grenore said, before the two shook hands again, both of them hoping money wouldn’t change hands, albeit for different reasons.

Jeb walked out of the office and back out onto the street, ignoring the people gawking at him. They wouldn’t meet his gaze even if he looked at them, anyway.

As soon as he was out of sight of the building, Jeb went back to limping, clutching his aching side as he returned to his room. He didn’t have to pretend to be a badass anymore, which a freaking godsend. He had to have gained some Body, because Jeb was fairly sure he should have collapsed a long time ago.

Jeb winced as he sat down on his bed, favoring his stomach wound. Once he was comfortable, he tugged the uncomfortable ring off and inspected it. It had been a long day, and all he wanted to do now was pass out and deal with everything seventeen hours from now.

But he wanted to know whether the Deal he’d made with the pirates really had an effect, or if he was simply running on the placebo effect.

Experimentally, Jeb put the ring up to his lips and blew through it.

Thick grey Myst billowed outward, creating a roiling cloud in the middle of the room. It seemed to hang there, waiting for something to come across it.

Jeb stood up and walked into the cloud.

The grey Myst sank into his body, causing his flesh to glow with red inner light just as it had a few hours before, highlighting his bones. A flash of light passed over his eyes, and the Myst leapt back out of his body, forming into a status window.

Jebediah Trapper

Mystic Trapsmith, Level 39

Accolades: Krusker’s Brawn, Siren’s Cunning, R-R-RubU’s Mysteries, Gresh’s Subtlety, Innovator, Lagross’s Power.

Body 21 9

Myst 71 7

Nerve 26 9

Abilities: Mystic Trigger

Accolade Pending: Lagross’s Power suspended due to multiple instances. Awaiting resolution.

Attention, this User has been flagged for exclusion from the System by executive order.

Four in Body…That explains why I feel like a teenager…and not bleeding out.

Two in Myst and one in Nerve. Was that because of the letter? Did the pirates not have any actionable information other than that? Jeb had mostly profited financially from the pirate’s deaths, and as already stated, all material wealth fell under the Body category.

“Smartass.”

“Yeah?” The fairy asked, poking her head out of his pocket.

“Is that a normal increase? Four, two and one?” Jeb said, pointing to each of his Attributes in turn. “It doesn’t feel like a lot. If I took their lives as my payment for the Deal, shouldn’t I have gotten a bigger portion of their Attributes? Some of the people there had at least thirty Body. Hell, Svek’s skull brushed off a forty-four.”

“Umm…how do I explain this.” Smartass said, tapping her tiny chin. “Your sticky Impact can only pick up a certain amount of Impact before it simply can’t pick up any more. It’s related to the size of your impact. A small ball of Impact can only have a small amount packed in around it before it loses the ability to adhere to more.”

“That makes sense. Like a lint roller,” Jeb said, nodding. So a lot got wasted. Oh well. Hell of a lot better than nothing.

“When you’re totally full up, you have to take some time to convert the new layer of Impact into sticky impact before you can take more.”

“That’s not going to take another hundred days, is it?” Jeb asked, thinking about his plans for next weekend.

“Should only take about a week since the foundation is already laid. It’ll get faster as your Impact grows. The oldest Fae can make Deals at a speed that’ll boggle the mind.”

“And once that layer is complete, I’ll be able to accept more Impact in one sitting?” Jeb asked.

“Exactly.”

“What about the distribution?” Jeb said, pointing at the status window again. “Is that because there was simply more Body flavored Impact up for grabs in the Fate dimension than anything else?”

Smartass eyed him sideways. “You’re a quick study.”

“So I hear,” Jeb said, slipping the ring back on his finger. The status window blinked out of sight as soon as the cold metal interior touched Jeb’s skin.

He carefully laid down on the bed and put his feet up, kicking off his new boots.

“I’m going to try and get some sleep.” Jeb said, setting his arms at his sides. Normally he liked to rest them on his stomach, but the angry, swollen stitching made that a non-starter.

Jeb glanced at a hairline fracture in the ceiling, rubbing the scar on his palm with his thumb. He peered at the chair blocking the door, the bell attached to the window. He felt the gun bumping into his skull under his pillow.

He didn’t think Grenore would try to have him killed, but Jeb would rather be paranoid than dead. He closed his eyes, focusing on the throb of the stab-wound in his gut aching to the beat of his heart.

Jeb slept like a baby.

***

The next day was a whirlwind of signing papers he couldn’t read, getting his newfound wealth safely insured and tucked away in the city vault.

In a world where people could shoot fireballs out their ass, a box made of solid steel wasn’t quite enough protection to ensure no one steals your cash, so the bank itself was guarded by a Keegan security guard who was reputed to be a level eighty-four Mindraker.

Whatever the hell that was.

The bank even had a hall of fame, a glass case where keepsakes from previous would-be bank robbers were housed. It seemed a little macabre to Jeb, but out in the frontier, it seemed like deterrent was nine tenths of the law.

After sorting and selling the substantial amount of pirate booty, Jeb was left with a hundred and eighty bulbs, and a backpack full of lenses they had stolen from local prospectors, worth a handful of bulbs apiece.

When Jeb asked around, he found out that the term ‘bulbs’ was a reference to a psychedelic mushroom that grew in egg-like clusters. They were highly prized among Myst users in the past, and had been worth about an ounce of gold apiece before they were gathered to extinction.

Jeb got a little annoyed when people kept asking him who he was selling the lenses to, assuming he was going to pass them off to a major corporation or noble house in exchange for a quick buck.

It was apparently common sense that a plebian couldn’t make use of lenses.

Jeb had no idea why he would do that.

The backpack was like a little slice of Earth.

There were a handful of Mountain River lenses, several large Stone (Andesite) lenses, a bunch of Cedar lenses, a few flake-sized gold ore lenses, some pebble sized iron ore lenses, copper ore lenses, and a single pinky-sized Wolfram lens.

There were several animal lenses. A hare lens, a couple different kinds of birds and squirrels, along with a single Buck lens about the size of a child’s fist. It looked like it was carved from lumpy antler, sloughing off coarse deer fur that disappeared as it fell away.

First: the obvious question: Why on God’s green earth was a system built around gold as currency able to continue with magical lenses that could literally spit out a nearly limitless supply of gold?

When Jeb asked around, the answer was basically this: It wasn’t limitless.

A single lens about the size of a golf ball could spit out thousands of tons of material before its lens eventually degraded. So, rather than search the hills for a gold mine, it was far easier for prospectors to find a gold lens, which could pump out gold until it busted.

In essence, a lens and a mine were the same thing. They occurred at similar rarities, and produced a similar amount of product before being exhausted.

A mine required a huge amount of infrastructure and labor, which meant time, materials, labor and workers. Workers that had to be paid.

A lens just needed a Myst engine and a way to process the output. The only people who knew how to do that were aristocrats. The ease with which Myst produced raw materials drove the profit margin of an honest-to-God actual mine through the ground.

This forced most value to be placed in the amount of labor that went into making and shipping goods and services. Trading bulk material back and forth was almost unheard of unless it was in the form of lenses.

The whole conversation gave Jeb a headache as he tried to unwind the strange dynamics of the Empire’s economics.

Finally, he decided he didn’t care. Jeb was now the proud owner of several mines/logging camps/hunting grounds he could carry around with him wherever he went, and he had the skills to take full advantage of them.

That was good enough for him.

Jeb earmarked fifty bulbs for the smear campaign against Garland Grenore, another fifty for starting his own business, and the rest for enjoying his week.

Approximately eighty thousand dollars, American monies, to blow between now and the weekend after next.

Oh my, whatever will I spend the money on?

The time between Thursday and the Saturday after next passed by in a manic blur of enthusiastically supporting the local community.

The leisure time wasn’t all good, as it gave Jeb plenty of time to think in between. Plenty of time to stare at the ceiling and wonder if all this craziness was actually real or not. Plenty of time to crawl inside his own head.

Jeb was just starting to feel The Spike making it hard for him to sleep indoors again by the time the next Saturday rolled around.

Which was why Jeb was so happy when he opened the door to Garland’s office, and found himself face to face with the Imperial enforcer, arms crossed, one hand brushing her weapon. Zlesk flanked her, the lawman looking a little concerned and a little angry.

At his desk, the keegan steepled his fingers, seemingly pleased with his ambush. By his side, his daughter was sitting, her expression one of concern, glancing between Jeb and her father.

“Pay attention, Seraine, this is how you deal with these kinds of people.” he said, motioning to Zlesk and the enforcer.

“Jeb, Mr. Grenore says you tried to extort him?” Zlesk asked.