Chapter 12: Which One's the Golden Goose?

When Artemvian woke up, he didn’t follow his usual morning routine.

Instead of lying in bed to watch MeowTube, he slid his legs over the side and walked to the bathroom.  After cleaning himself, he moved onto the kitchen, his movements well and practiced.  Quickly fixing a cup of coffee, Artemvian sat himself at the dining table.  Turning on a tablet (courtesy of Riley after his last job), Artemvian checked his messages.

There was a message from Riley.

[Let’s talk.  Drop by the Joint later. -Riley]

He took a few more minutes, leisurely enjoying his coffee before turning the tablet off and entering his lab.

With the money from his last job, Artemvian had finally been able to afford an actual apartment.  It was placed in a gated community and placed on the top-floor, just as he had requested.  There were two rooms, his bedroom and his study which doubled as a lab.  It was a pale comparison to the lab he had in his previous life, but it was much better than not having a lab.

And of course, his place was set up with as many wards as he could stuff in this place.

Rival practitioners should feel the hum of power if they approached his apartment; only if they were good.  If they weren’t, they’d sense nothing at all.  It was a test of sorts, an invitation: Enter only if you are confident.  After speaking with June from Eldritch, he was eager to glean information from more members of the supernatural community.

Let them come if they dare.

He’d lived like a hermit for the last week, never leaving his house except to pick up groceries.  It was just as well; he was nearing the end of his project.

His Staff.

He’d been in two altercations with the professionals of this world; which Artemvian was increasingly starting to associate with the Supernatural.  It made sense.  All the advanced technology in this world made magic seem more acceptable; even the esoteric ones like the ones employed by the Eldritch.  In a place that was crawling with criminals and coin, there were always shady jobs to be done.  As long as the job got done, there would be no questions asked.

Blasted Hells, no one would ask.

Back in Artemvian’s day, there was a Council –a governing body of the Supernatural who made it their business to meddle in the affairs of other supernatural beings.  There were certain laws that had to be obeyed, a decorum agreed upon unanimously.  No killing of innocents, no contacting outer gods, no world-altering magic, no laws-of-magic altering magic and certainly no rituals that involved live sacrifices.  Well, sentient ones anyways.

Gosh, it had been such a nightmare deciding on what was sentient and whatnot.  

Believe it or not, Vegans existed back then too.

Artemvian shuddered.

He hated Vegan Mages.  They were just the worst.

Artemvian’s thoughts circled back.  He had faced off against the supernatural-professionals of the underground society of this world twice, and both times he wished he had a staff.  Without his staff, his power was unfocused.  A waterfall plummeting off the cliff and crushing all those who lay beneath it.  With a staff, he could focus his powers.  Captures, bindings, sealings and even more sophisticated ways of tracking his enemy and analyzing their powers: the staff would make it all possible.

And he was almost done with the staff.

His staff was a four-feet long piece of wood, carved to look like a walking stick.  The entire length of the wood was covered in archaic arcane runes, both reinforcing the structural integrity as well as formulas centered around bindings and shutting down enemy powers.  A lot of mages preferred to use a staff because it bolstered their powers.  For beings like Artemvian, they needed it to stem the flow of their powers.

Artemvian preferred to use Lemonwood.  It had a combination of cleansing properties and he enjoyed the smell.  Near the handle, Artemvian had carved in three holes and looped three interlocking braids through the holes.  They braids had small trinkets attached to each of them; one in the shape of hexagonal shield made of gold, another in the shape of a small ember made of silver and the last one made of copper shaped to look like a small oval.  Artemvian had meant to make an eye, but he lacked the skills to do so.

Three circles, connected to a Shield, Fire and an Eye.

Finally, a small socket remained empty near the top.

All staves required a good crystal.  Some preferred metal, but traditionally precious gems worked the best.  Unfortunately, Artemvian had no idea where to get a pure gem.  But it wasn’t like the staff would work without a gem, it simply wouldn’t be at 150%.  Right now, Artemvian surmised that it had about 90% functionality.

“I guess I can take my time looking for a gem.”  Artemvian muttered.

He quickly dressed himself, taking the staff and shoving it inside a bag that Riley had gifted him.  It was a leather bag designed to carry longswords, but suited his purpose just fine.  The mage dressed in his traditional attire, black jeans and combat boots.  He paired those with a white t-shirt and a long leather jacket over it.

Unlike his previous hotel, this apartment had bio-identification security measures.  No need for pesky things like a key-card.  Just his eyeball and thumbprint.

“Please enjoy your day, Mr. Moneti.”

“Likewise.”  Artemvian said to the AI hologram with a smile.

Taking a cab, Artemvian arrived at Riley’s Joint just in time for lunch.

As usual, the place was near empty except for the elderly couple sitting near the terrace, enjoying their glass of afternoon wine.

Artemvian smiled at them in greeting and sat at the counter, right in front of Brant and Riley.

Brant, the dark-skinned stylish young man sporting a smooth goatee brought out the complimentary sandwich and house-chips.

“You never finished telling me that story about werewolves the other day.”  Brant said.

Artemvian took a bite of his sandwich, glancing at Riley.  She was preoccupied typing something on her laptop, her eyes going black and lightning up with electronic lights –a sign that she was on a virtual call.  Artemvian swallowed before answering, “Where’d I leave off?  Ishtar?”

“Yes, the shepherd and Ishtar.”

“Not more to it.  Legends trace the original werewolf back to Ishtar who transformed a shepherd, or hunter as some sources say, into the first canine-theriomorph.  We aren’t completely sure if he was a dog or a wolf either.”  Artemvian picked up a chip, studying it before popping it in his mouth.  “I thought you didn’t believe in werewolves.”

“I don’t.  But it’s still cool to learn about it.”  Brant smiled.  “I’ve been reading up on things like that.  There’s a whole community out there.”

Artemvian was careful not to answer.  As far as he could tell, Brant was as mortal as they come.  No mana, no special abilities that made him a Special and no physical abnormalities that made him a Freak.  Whatever Brant found, Artemvian didn’t want to egg him on.  This ‘internet’ thing was dangerous –and Artemvian wasn’t just talking about the dangers of being addicted to cat videos.

Information was out there and anyone could get it.  Anyone.  Then in the process of getting that information, people could be lying in wait –people who wanted nothing more than a fresh new soul or body to make use of…

“Take it easy, Brant.”  Artemvian said.  He wasn’t that close to the young man, but Brant hadn’t been anything but nice to Artemvian.  “I thought you were studying to be a Healer?”

“A doctor.  Yeah.”  Brant said sheepishly.

Before the conversation could go anywhere, Riley interrupted them, apparently done with her call.  “Moneti.  You got my message?”

“Yes I did.”  Artemvian said.

“Good.”  Riley laid her laptop down on the counter, flipping it around so Artemvian could look at it.  “Well, now that your identity is sorted out… congratulations.  You’re now an official mercenary, registered on the Deepweb.  Welcome to the big leagues.”

Thomas Yu had paid Artemvian a total of 250,00 doilies thanks to Riley getting wind of the fact that Eldritch had been involved.  Artemvian wouldn’t have guessed it, but the Eldritch were a big deal in this business and bad news.  The fact that Artemvian had come out alive was secondary; he had completed the job.  That alone caused the Mage’s fees to skyrocket.

He paid 80,000 doilies for the fake identity.  Now, Artemvian was a proud citizen of Nero City on paper and in heart.  Then he spent another 20,000 on his Deepweb registration.  Even with another 10,000 for his new apartment and another 10,000 to set up his lab, Artemvian had plenty of funds left over.

“Oh my oh my,”  Artemvian took the laptop, looking at his profile page.

His profile page was nothing short of dry.  There was no picture.  Just a simple name and age, as well as how to get in touch.

“I thought it’d be more… colorful.”

“Deepweb is different than our usual requests.”  Riley explained, taking the laptop back from Artemvian.  “There are the requests that you’ve been taking, that anyone can take.  But now that you’re registered, people will be looking for you specifically.  Or for someone with a talent similar to yours.”

“And what’s my talent?”

“Getting things done, from what I hear.”  Riley refilled Artemvian’s glass with seltzer.  “Already, there’s rumors about you.  The do-it-all Mage who faced Eldritch and was gutsy enough to continue the job.  Well, that alone doesn’t make you special, but getting the job done does.”

“Didn’t think those guys were anything special either.”  Artemvian pouted.

Riley smiled softly.  “Organizations with a reputation tend to earn it through blood.  It would’ve been impressive if you survived.”

“What other organizations out there should I be aware of?”

“Gangs like the Hammerheads.  We talked about Blackguard Industries.  You haven’t heard abuot ChyMera Breed yet.  They’re a group of crazies who believe that technology is the next step in evolution.”  Riley counted off her fingers.  “Zaibatsus have their own version of security teams, no better than gangs in my opinion.  Independent Mages can form Cloisters or found their own Towers too.  Oh, stand-alone Mercenary Companies are popping up now too.”

“Like moths to a flame.”  Artemvian said dryly.

“Like I said, it’s a seller’s market.”  Riley answered.  “And speaking of market…”

She gave him three files.

“Three jobs.  Two of them were looking for you by name.  The third was looking for a skilled Fire Mage.”

Artemvian took them with oily fingers, getting grease all over them.  Riley frowned but didn’t comment.

“You can take your time looking over them, the Clients are in no rush.”

“What if I want to do all three?”  Artemvian asked.

“You can’t.  Even though there’s no official time-limit, these aren’t one-day jobs.  Most likely, they’ll take a few days, maybe even a few weeks to complete.  Also it’s courtesy to turn down other requests once you’ve accepted one.”

Artemvian nodded.  It would be basic courtesy to turn down jobs he didn’t want to accept, so that his Clients could look for different candidates as well.  It had been the same way in his world.

He looked over the three.  “These guys, again?”  Artemvian plucked the file out and crumpled it up.

“Whodorf Industries really wants to meet you.”  Riley said dryly.  She took the crumpled up piece of paper and passed it to Brant, who took it to the back to be shredded and burned.

“Well, if they want to talk about Werewolves, they can talk to Brant over there.”  Artemvian eyed Riley who was looking innocent.

Riley had given him three requests on purpose; to test him.  She was gauging his reaction by purposefully slipping in Whodorf Pharmaceutical’s request in there.  Artemvian hadn’t really seen how much they were offering but he saw five zeroes.  Most likely, as his Main Broker, Riley was putting him in different situations and building her own porfolio of the mage, trying to get a handle on him.

Artemvian scoffed.  “Let’s nip this in the bud.  I’m Snow White and Whodorf Pharmaceuticals is the evil queen and the money is the poisoned apple.  You don’t need to slip their request in to test my reactions.”

She shrugged, smirking.  “I’m your Broker, my job is to give you the list of jobs and negotiate on your behalf.  I thought the amount was worth looking at.”

Artemvian eyed her.  “And it has nothing to do with your commission?”

Riley simply smiled.

Ignoring her, Artemvian looked over the other two files.  “Huh, another Pharmaceutical.  Nate&Nate?”

“They’re looking to build a security team to move some cargo.”  Riley said without missing a beat.  “But we both know that’s just a front.  Look how much they’re offering.”

Artemvian whistled.  “Old Jack, eat your heart out.  I got my own Golden Goose right here.  A million doilis just for working some security detail?”

“500,000 doilies upfront and 500,000 afterwards.  Plus, Nate&Nate is on par with Whodorf; they have some real leverage and connections in the world.”

The Mage understood his Broker’s meaning immediately.  “They might have a lead about Ivern’s Tavern.”

She nodded.

Tucking that information away for consideration, Artemvian flipped open the next page.  “...The Society of Xenobiology?  What’s this?”

“I did some basic research of them.  They’re a Research Group, a subsidy of the Government.  It looks like they’re doing an archaeological dig and strange things are happening.  They want a Mage who can look into it, plus help them navigate the rest of the dig.”

“What kind of navigation?”

“Apparently, it’s some kind of tomb.”

“Not as much as Nate though.”  Artemvian looked at the number disappointedly.  It wasn’t even half of what the Pharmaceutical was offering.

“250,000 doilies isn’t anything to laugh at, Moneti.”  Riley chastized.  “Besides, you don’t do jobs like this for the money.  You do it for the connections.”

“And it’s a government organization meaning that there’s information to be gained.”  Artemvian finished Riley’s thought.  “Which can be sold for a hefty sum to the right bidder.”

“A Golden Goose, but you have to raise it a little first.”  Riley replied.

“You know Old Jack?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”  Artemvian frowned, reading over the pages.  “How much time do I have?”

“A week at the most.”  Riley said.

Artemvian gave them back to Riley.  “Send the files to my phone later, I’ll let you know once I make my decision.”

The Broker nodded.  “Take your time, Moneti.  You should take a break.  There’s no rush.”

Winking at the white-haired woman, Artemvian left Riley’s Joint wondering which job he’d take next.