Wolf roamed around the city thinking about what had just happened. While talking with the pawn shop owner he’d found out that this wasn’t an upper district. He was now inside Silver City. Everything outside the stone walls used to be outside the city limits. In more peaceful times what was now the slums used to be farms that supplied Silver City with food.
When Wolf learned of this everything he’d seen in the slums clicked into place and painted the picture of what had happened over the past couple of years.
It was the dead of night, but Wolf still wasn’t tired. He was excited to have finally reached his real destination and that things looked more or less the way he expected them to. Even though he didn’t see any silver anywhere, the city met most of Wolf’s expectations. It was well planned, with wide streets and plenty of back alleys.
Despite, or maybe due to its former glory, the city now had plenty of homeless people. However, the beggars living inside the stone walls were noticeably different from those that lived on the other side. They were clean, as were their clothes. True, their garbs were old and worn out, but they didn’t reek. If a homeowner from the slums saw any one of these urban beggars, he’d probably have to address them as sir or madam.
The best part about the homeless locals was that Wolf didn’t even need to change his clothes to blend in. His travel clothes fit in perfectly. His only problem was that he knew nothing about Silver City.
He didn’t want to raise any flags and make the information broker suspicious about him being a foreigner. Because of that Wolf hadn’t asked any incriminating questions, which would label him as one. It was quite a ridiculous notion, since the man had recognized Wolf as a foreigner almost immediately, despite the boy’s excellent effort to emulate the local accent.
Even though he couldn’t get information in the pawnshop, Wolf had a backup plan on how to feel the beat of the city.
As soon as Wolf came across a lone bum, he cast a Sixth Order spell called Living Puppet. The spell allowed Wolf to take control over the target’s mind and body for several days.
He then spent the rest of the night familiarizing himself with Silver City and its current happenings. The homeless man told Wolf a number of useful and five times as many useless things.
The bum used to be a local shop assistant, but due to his company’s inability to adapt to the times they went under, and he had lost his job. Once he ran out of money the man ended up on the streets. Apparently the majority of beggars inside the city had similar life stories.
As for his new profession, begging was perfectly legal in Silver City, but beggars weren’t allowed to make any noise. They weren’t allowed to approach people either and could only sit by the side of the road hoping someone would spare them a copper.
Unlike how Glib had painted it, beggars mostly lived on church handouts, leftovers and food that was thrown out. Lucky ones occasionally did chores for food, assuming someone was willing to hire them. But for some reason the man called it selling their bodies.
Wolf noted the expression and believed that even if you were snarky about it, doing physical labor was at most renting out your body, not selling it.
The citywide horrible situation began a couple of years ago. Back then various refugees started flocking towards Silver City. These people were fleeing from bandits and looking for a place to live. The problem was that these newcomers were mostly poor peasants without any desirable skills. Another issue was that, even though Silver City was enormous, there wasn’t enough room in the city to house everyone.
The Duke quickly realized that this could escalate into a huge problem. So, he promptly closed the city gates and made the Nobles’ district a restricted area. Locals who could leisurely take a stroll through the plazas and the wide boulevards just a week ago suddenly found themselves locked out.
The flood of refugees that had reached the city had nowhere else to go. Since they weren’t allowed to enter, and they couldn’t go back, they did the only thing they could do. They started building houses next to the walls. Month after month of this disorganized construction gave birth to the slums Wolf had passed to reach the Merchants’ quarter.
While these poor country folk thought themselves safer here than back home, Wolf wasn’t so certain about their choice, nor perceived safety. Doubly so considering everything he had seen and gone through yesterday.
Wolf asked the beggar all sorts of things. From the worn out man Wolf learned how he should act, which people and places he should avoid, as well as how to scavenge enough food to survive.
It was nearly dawn by the time the man had stopped talking. Wolf was about to set him free when he realized that he could use this man for one more purpose. This beggar could act as a proxy to wrap up the outstanding things he had to sort out with the Johns and Josh merchant group.
Wolf had tested Living Puppet a bit and saw that this approach was feasible. While Wolf couldn’t hear the exact words that this man heard he could get the gist of what the puppet had witnessed. On the other hand he could use this man’s mouth to speak the exact words he wished to say.
Wolf had the man find them a safe place to rest a bit. Eventually they wound up under a bridge. Once safe, Wolf took out a pair of rations, one for himself and one for the beggar. Since the man had already said that vagrants were sometimes paid for doing chores, Wolf considered the food as the compensation for the chores the beggar had to run for him. Once they were done eating, Wolf sent the beggar puppet over to the nearest Johns and Josh merchant group shop, while stretching his back and checking whether this temporary residence could be adapted into a place where he could spend the months and years until he entered the Mage Academy.
The beggar walked stiffly for a long while, until he approached the pair of store guards. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Good day to you gentlemen! This is just a Living Puppet proxy sent here to bring you news of your caravan led by mister Red. Could you get someone in a position of authority to speak with me through this man?” the beggar spoke awkwardly and flatly as he delivered Wolf’s message.
The guards looked at each other in confusion for a moment. Then one of them ran into the store as fast as he could. The second guard grabbed the beggar's shirt and started shaking him.
“Red’s my big brother! What news do you have?” the man exclaimed.
“My apologies, talking through someone else’s mouth is very taxing. Your representative will inform the rest of your company. And please refrain from acts of violence against this person. You might sever the connection.” The homeless man spoke in a flat, monotone voice. His face showing as much emotion as an average corpse.
The guard let go of the scruffy young man. If what this beggar had said was true, then there was no point in threatening him. Worse still, he could anger the Mage possessing this man’s body, and that was definitely something a mere shop guard could not afford to do. And on the off chance the vagrant was playing a joke on them… Well, he could kiss his legs goodbye…
Wolf didn’t have to wait long before the store manager appeared. The man was visibly shaken and quite confused. If what Tim had just blurted out was true, then he was in way over his head.
“Sir I’m Paul Dorian, the manager of this branch office. May I know whom I am speaking to?” the man said while wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“No.” the zombified beggar replied in a monotone voice, stunning Paul and his guards.
Paul took a moment to gather his thoughts, then cleared his throat. “Y-You said you had news on our caravan staff, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Wolf replied succinctly, once more killing the conversation.
It wasn’t just the curt answer. The beggar’s dead eyes greatly unnerved the merchant.
If only I could serve him some tea and wait for a bigwig to come over and talk to him, he nervously thought, then came to a sudden realization. Wait, why shouldn’t I do that? This is way over my pay-grade…
“Um, sir, this is not a good place to hold such an important conversation, would you be willing to follow me inside?” Paul politely asked while nervously fiddling with the moist handkerchief.
“Yes,” the beggar agreed and followed the merchant into the manager’s office.
“Do you think big brother Red somehow survived?” the guard that shook the beggar asked his mate, who sadly shook his head.
“Don’t get your hopes up. You heard the same thing I did. They had found a tombstone with their nicknames, while the old Viscount’s Portable Mansion is unaccounted for. That means that the tracking Spell Formations on it were destroyed…”
***
Meanwhile the beggar and the store manager reached the office and sat down inside.
“Sir, I will be frank with you. I don’t have the authority to handle something like this. If it’s not a problem, how about you drink tea while someone from our headquarters arrives.” The store manager spoke smoothly, following his personal procedure to avoid trouble.
“No problem. Just pinch this man when you’re ready to talk and I’ll get back to you.” The beggar said, then started staring at his feet, waiting for further command from Wolf.
Hours trickled by. Wolf didn’t want to waste his time, waiting for whoever Johns and Josh was going to send. Instead he focused on trying to cast an Eighth Order spell and advance his Mage Order. He knew he was making progress, not much progress, but progress nonetheless. At this pace in another month or so he should be able to cast his first Eighth Order spell.
Originally he started with Finger of Death, but after coming to Silver City he’d realized he needed something else right now. Wolf’s spell of choice at the moment was Repulsion. The spell would make a target object subconsciously repel creatures of a certain type, decided when casting the spell. Using this spell, or its advanced Ninth Order version, Wolf could keep people away from his hideout.
*I am being attacked.*
Suddenly Wolf sensed a mental tug. Someone had hurt the man he had dominated.
*I am trying to communicate with you.*
The next impression arrived from the puppet.
Back in the office a well built man that looked like he was in his thirties stood in front of Wolf’s proxy. When Wolf looked through the beggar’s eyes he’d found that the big man was pinching the beggar's cheek.
The previously motionless proxy slowly lifted his gaze and looked at the man standing in front of him. Wolf couldn’t get a clear image, let alone see the man’s face, but he got the impression that this was a warrior of some sorts.
“Do I have your attention Sir?” the warrior asked calmly as he examined the beggar seated in front of him.
Diego frequently had contact with Mages and was well educated. Thanks to that he knew that fully controlling somebody’s body in the manner Wolf did required a fairly high Order spell.
A Mage that could cast it was at least an upper middle tier Mage. While this kind of person wasn’t any threat to Diego, they were in the upper ten percent of the well respected Mage profession.
And that was the lowest possible status of the Mage that had turned this beggar into a puppet.
“Yes,” the puppet replied with dead eyes after a short delay.
“My name is Diego. I’m the chief of security for Johns and Josh. Do you mind telling me what happened to little Red?” The warrior didn’t show any emotion, even though he felt worried.
He hoped against hope that somehow someone had survived the apocalypse that was described to them.
Instead of the lengthy telling Diego expected, what he got was a letter.
“Read it,” the unnerving puppet uttered, then fixed his gaze on Diego.
The letter briefly described that Red and everyone else from the caravan had died. It explained that the culprits were Northshield troops and that they were also dead. The letter also held Red’s last words and a short list of things Wolf brought back from their caravan.
In his report Wolf noted that he had read the books from the Viscount Cochin’s library, but that he had made sure to return them to their proper place. During his travels a couple of potions caught Wolf’s eye. He’d taken those and inquired about their price. He would either return them or send the money via another proxy at a later date.
As Diego read the letter his face fell. The worst case they’d feared had happened. Everyone was lost. Even a board member, Viscount Cochin, had died.
Once Diego lowered the letter, the living puppet handed over a couple of golden rings. Wolf assumed that Rings of Holding that were near the caravan belonged to Johns and Josh group.
Diego took a long while to compare the items with the caravan manifest they had and so far, most of the items matched. When he confirmed the existence of the contract in Red’s Ring of Holding the news was confirmed beyond the shadow of a doubt.
“Sir, thank you for your service.” Diego stood up and bowed to the beggar in a gentlemanly fashion.
“I will discuss this with the Board of Executives, but I believe that the items you took can be considered your reward for bringing all of our assets back, as well as avenging our fallen comrades. May I ask how we can contact you once we’ve come to a decision?” Diego gingerly tried to form some sort of bond with Wolf.
Um, they want to talk more? Wolf found himself in an awkward position. Well, I don’t think they can track me down through Living Puppet...
“How much time would that take?” Wolf wanted to sever his connection with this man as soon as possible. Talking through a human proxy felt weird.
Diego thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I will push for the meeting to be held today. Hopefully the decision should be made by nightfall. You have brought us an important piece of information and did us a great favor.”
“Just take this man with you. Make him feel a bit of pain once you reach a decision. Also, if it’s not a problem, feed him and give him some clean clothes. He’s just a random person I picked up on the street. I kind of feel bad for him,” the puppet droned on monotonously.
“I will do my best to comply. I hope you will hear… the good news soon.” Before Diego could finish his sentence the beggar before him was once again looking at his own feet with the eyes of a dead fish.
Wolf roamed around the city thinking about what had just happened. While talking with the pawn shop owner he’d found out that this wasn’t an upper district. He was now inside Silver City. Everything outside the stone walls used to be outside the city limits. In more peaceful times what was now the slums used to be farms that supplied Silver City with food.
When Wolf learned of this everything he’d seen in the slums clicked into place and painted the picture of what had happened over the past couple of years.
It was the dead of night, but Wolf still wasn’t tired. He was excited to have finally reached his real destination and that things looked more or less the way he expected them to. Even though he didn’t see any silver anywhere, the city met most of Wolf’s expectations. It was well planned, with wide streets and plenty of back alleys.
Despite, or maybe due to its former glory, the city now had plenty of homeless people. However, the beggars living inside the stone walls were noticeably different from those that lived on the other side. They were clean, as were their clothes. True, their garbs were old and worn out, but they didn’t reek. If a homeowner from the slums saw any one of these urban beggars, he’d probably have to address them as sir or madam.
The best part about the homeless locals was that Wolf didn’t even need to change his clothes to blend in. His travel clothes fit in perfectly. His only problem was that he knew nothing about Silver City.
He didn’t want to raise any flags and make the information broker suspicious about him being a foreigner. Because of that Wolf hadn’t asked any incriminating questions, which would label him as one. It was quite a ridiculous notion, since the man had recognized Wolf as a foreigner almost immediately, despite the boy’s excellent effort to emulate the local accent.
Even though he couldn’t get information in the pawnshop, Wolf had a backup plan on how to feel the beat of the city.
As soon as Wolf came across a lone bum, he cast a Sixth Order spell called Living Puppet. The spell allowed Wolf to take control over the target’s mind and body for several days.
He then spent the rest of the night familiarizing himself with Silver City and its current happenings. The homeless man told Wolf a number of useful and five times as many useless things.
The bum used to be a local shop assistant, but due to his company’s inability to adapt to the times they went under, and he had lost his job. Once he ran out of money the man ended up on the streets. Apparently the majority of beggars inside the city had similar life stories.
As for his new profession, begging was perfectly legal in Silver City, but beggars weren’t allowed to make any noise. They weren’t allowed to approach people either and could only sit by the side of the road hoping someone would spare them a copper.
Unlike how Glib had painted it, beggars mostly lived on church handouts, leftovers and food that was thrown out. Lucky ones occasionally did chores for food, assuming someone was willing to hire them. But for some reason the man called it selling their bodies.
Wolf noted the expression and believed that even if you were snarky about it, doing physical labor was at most renting out your body, not selling it.
The citywide horrible situation began a couple of years ago. Back then various refugees started flocking towards Silver City. These people were fleeing from bandits and looking for a place to live. The problem was that these newcomers were mostly poor peasants without any desirable skills. Another issue was that, even though Silver City was enormous, there wasn’t enough room in the city to house everyone.
The Duke quickly realized that this could escalate into a huge problem. So, he promptly closed the city gates and made the Nobles’ district a restricted area. Locals who could leisurely take a stroll through the plazas and the wide boulevards just a week ago suddenly found themselves locked out.
The flood of refugees that had reached the city had nowhere else to go. Since they weren’t allowed to enter, and they couldn’t go back, they did the only thing they could do. They started building houses next to the walls. Month after month of this disorganized construction gave birth to the slums Wolf had passed to reach the Merchants’ quarter.
While these poor country folk thought themselves safer here than back home, Wolf wasn’t so certain about their choice, nor perceived safety. Doubly so considering everything he had seen and gone through yesterday.
Wolf asked the beggar all sorts of things. From the worn out man Wolf learned how he should act, which people and places he should avoid, as well as how to scavenge enough food to survive.
It was nearly dawn by the time the man had stopped talking. Wolf was about to set him free when he realized that he could use this man for one more purpose. This beggar could act as a proxy to wrap up the outstanding things he had to sort out with the Johns and Josh merchant group.
Wolf had tested Living Puppet a bit and saw that this approach was feasible. While Wolf couldn’t hear the exact words that this man heard he could get the gist of what the puppet had witnessed. On the other hand he could use this man’s mouth to speak the exact words he wished to say.
Wolf had the man find them a safe place to rest a bit. Eventually they wound up under a bridge. Once safe, Wolf took out a pair of rations, one for himself and one for the beggar. Since the man had already said that vagrants were sometimes paid for doing chores, Wolf considered the food as the compensation for the chores the beggar had to run for him. Once they were done eating, Wolf sent the beggar puppet over to the nearest Johns and Josh merchant group shop, while stretching his back and checking whether this temporary residence could be adapted into a place where he could spend the months and years until he entered the Mage Academy.
The beggar walked stiffly for a long while, until he approached the pair of store guards. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Good day to you gentlemen! This is just a Living Puppet proxy sent here to bring you news of your caravan led by mister Red. Could you get someone in a position of authority to speak with me through this man?” the beggar spoke awkwardly and flatly as he delivered Wolf’s message.
The guards looked at each other in confusion for a moment. Then one of them ran into the store as fast as he could. The second guard grabbed the beggar's shirt and started shaking him.
“Red’s my big brother! What news do you have?” the man exclaimed.
“My apologies, talking through someone else’s mouth is very taxing. Your representative will inform the rest of your company. And please refrain from acts of violence against this person. You might sever the connection.” The homeless man spoke in a flat, monotone voice. His face showing as much emotion as an average corpse.
The guard let go of the scruffy young man. If what this beggar had said was true, then there was no point in threatening him. Worse still, he could anger the Mage possessing this man’s body, and that was definitely something a mere shop guard could not afford to do. And on the off chance the vagrant was playing a joke on them… Well, he could kiss his legs goodbye…
Wolf didn’t have to wait long before the store manager appeared. The man was visibly shaken and quite confused. If what Tim had just blurted out was true, then he was in way over his head.
“Sir I’m Paul Dorian, the manager of this branch office. May I know whom I am speaking to?” the man said while wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“No.” the zombified beggar replied in a monotone voice, stunning Paul and his guards.
Paul took a moment to gather his thoughts, then cleared his throat. “Y-You said you had news on our caravan staff, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Wolf replied succinctly, once more killing the conversation.
It wasn’t just the curt answer. The beggar’s dead eyes greatly unnerved the merchant.
If only I could serve him some tea and wait for a bigwig to come over and talk to him, he nervously thought, then came to a sudden realization. Wait, why shouldn’t I do that? This is way over my pay-grade…
“Um, sir, this is not a good place to hold such an important conversation, would you be willing to follow me inside?” Paul politely asked while nervously fiddling with the moist handkerchief.
“Yes,” the beggar agreed and followed the merchant into the manager’s office.
“Do you think big brother Red somehow survived?” the guard that shook the beggar asked his mate, who sadly shook his head.
“Don’t get your hopes up. You heard the same thing I did. They had found a tombstone with their nicknames, while the old Viscount’s Portable Mansion is unaccounted for. That means that the tracking Spell Formations on it were destroyed…”
***
Meanwhile the beggar and the store manager reached the office and sat down inside.
“Sir, I will be frank with you. I don’t have the authority to handle something like this. If it’s not a problem, how about you drink tea while someone from our headquarters arrives.” The store manager spoke smoothly, following his personal procedure to avoid trouble.
“No problem. Just pinch this man when you’re ready to talk and I’ll get back to you.” The beggar said, then started staring at his feet, waiting for further command from Wolf.
Hours trickled by. Wolf didn’t want to waste his time, waiting for whoever Johns and Josh was going to send. Instead he focused on trying to cast an Eighth Order spell and advance his Mage Order. He knew he was making progress, not much progress, but progress nonetheless. At this pace in another month or so he should be able to cast his first Eighth Order spell.
Originally he started with Finger of Death, but after coming to Silver City he’d realized he needed something else right now. Wolf’s spell of choice at the moment was Repulsion. The spell would make a target object subconsciously repel creatures of a certain type, decided when casting the spell. Using this spell, or its advanced Ninth Order version, Wolf could keep people away from his hideout.
*I am being attacked.*
Suddenly Wolf sensed a mental tug. Someone had hurt the man he had dominated.
*I am trying to communicate with you.*
The next impression arrived from the puppet.
Back in the office a well built man that looked like he was in his thirties stood in front of Wolf’s proxy. When Wolf looked through the beggar’s eyes he’d found that the big man was pinching the beggar's cheek.
The previously motionless proxy slowly lifted his gaze and looked at the man standing in front of him. Wolf couldn’t get a clear image, let alone see the man’s face, but he got the impression that this was a warrior of some sorts.
“Do I have your attention Sir?” the warrior asked calmly as he examined the beggar seated in front of him.
Diego frequently had contact with Mages and was well educated. Thanks to that he knew that fully controlling somebody’s body in the manner Wolf did required a fairly high Order spell.
A Mage that could cast it was at least an upper middle tier Mage. While this kind of person wasn’t any threat to Diego, they were in the upper ten percent of the well respected Mage profession.
And that was the lowest possible status of the Mage that had turned this beggar into a puppet.
“Yes,” the puppet replied with dead eyes after a short delay.
“My name is Diego. I’m the chief of security for Johns and Josh. Do you mind telling me what happened to little Red?” The warrior didn’t show any emotion, even though he felt worried.
He hoped against hope that somehow someone had survived the apocalypse that was described to them.
Instead of the lengthy telling Diego expected, what he got was a letter.
“Read it,” the unnerving puppet uttered, then fixed his gaze on Diego.
The letter briefly described that Red and everyone else from the caravan had died. It explained that the culprits were Northshield troops and that they were also dead. The letter also held Red’s last words and a short list of things Wolf brought back from their caravan.
In his report Wolf noted that he had read the books from the Viscount Cochin’s library, but that he had made sure to return them to their proper place. During his travels a couple of potions caught Wolf’s eye. He’d taken those and inquired about their price. He would either return them or send the money via another proxy at a later date.
As Diego read the letter his face fell. The worst case they’d feared had happened. Everyone was lost. Even a board member, Viscount Cochin, had died.
Once Diego lowered the letter, the living puppet handed over a couple of golden rings. Wolf assumed that Rings of Holding that were near the caravan belonged to Johns and Josh group.
Diego took a long while to compare the items with the caravan manifest they had and so far, most of the items matched. When he confirmed the existence of the contract in Red’s Ring of Holding the news was confirmed beyond the shadow of a doubt.
“Sir, thank you for your service.” Diego stood up and bowed to the beggar in a gentlemanly fashion.
“I will discuss this with the Board of Executives, but I believe that the items you took can be considered your reward for bringing all of our assets back, as well as avenging our fallen comrades. May I ask how we can contact you once we’ve come to a decision?” Diego gingerly tried to form some sort of bond with Wolf.
Um, they want to talk more? Wolf found himself in an awkward position. Well, I don’t think they can track me down through Living Puppet...
“How much time would that take?” Wolf wanted to sever his connection with this man as soon as possible. Talking through a human proxy felt weird.
Diego thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I will push for the meeting to be held today. Hopefully the decision should be made by nightfall. You have brought us an important piece of information and did us a great favor.”
“Just take this man with you. Make him feel a bit of pain once you reach a decision. Also, if it’s not a problem, feed him and give him some clean clothes. He’s just a random person I picked up on the street. I kind of feel bad for him,” the puppet droned on monotonously.
“I will do my best to comply. I hope you will hear… the good news soon.” Before Diego could finish his sentence the beggar before him was once again looking at his own feet with the eyes of a dead fish.
