84
“That blasted man!” Vesna howled, grabbing the nearest thing her hand could find and throwing it at the wall.
A fluffy little owl toy. One of her favorites.
It bounced off the granite and rolled to a halt almost at her feet. The room was too small!
She wanted to scream. Spit. Claw out his eyes. Throw herself onto her bed and cry. All at once.
How could he frustrate her this much?
She’d been trained to negotiate. To deal with merchants, politicians, and greedy subordinates. If she could find just a little gap in his armor, she could exploit it.
But he was like the walls of the Academy. Solid and unyielding.
And likely infested with traps, she thought with a scowl.
With everyone she’d met, she’d been able to swiftly find out what they wanted. Most people were fairly open with their desires.
But Milo guarded his with an almost jealous zeal.
She’d thought initially that he was like anyone else. That he wanted gold. So, she’d cut off his flow of gold. No longer would he be able to use the depleted cores to make a living. Because that’s what he’d been doing.
She was sure he had a way to replenish them.
Yet, he’d taken that move of hers in stride. And had simply turned to using his practical skills. The man had been a clockmaker, she’d been told. And a good one.
She’d met a few good clockers. They were all curious about how things worked to the point of derangement. So, it made sense the first thing he’d do with a mana rifle was tear it down to see how it worked.
Vesna hadn’t counted on him recovering so quickly.
He’d made a lot of gold with his mods.
Enough that he should be dripping with new gear himself.
But he wasn’t.
He seemed to only have one robe. And wore the same clothes almost every day. Someone was washing them, though. He didn’t exactly stink.
His wand was the same.
A battered-looking thing with a pitiful core. She was sure he didn’t even know it was on his belt. Which made sense. He was supposed to be a rank 1, and not even a good rank 1. The rumor was that he couldn’t muster enough mana to cast even a simple spell.
That knowledge had originally made her feel a mix of pity and contempt for him.
It might have worked against her in her first meetings as she’d expected he’d be desperate for help. Instead, he clearly thought of her as an irritant.
A bug, as he put it.
Picking up her owl, she absently fluffed its soft furry surface.
He had to want something. And all that gold was going somewhere.
If she could only figure that out, she could use the information to sway him. Some families thought power came in the form of higher ranked mages and armies of tens of thousands.
But the Farringhams relied on knowledge.
Only they knew the true power of it.
Seeing her calm down, Tamper Stern lifted his head. He was sprawled in the seat in the corner of her room. He’d been thinking it was smaller than the one he’d had in his. Or was it that he’d gotten older and more used to proper sized furniture?
He watched as she churned her thoughts. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she said at last. “But I want you to abandon the kidnap attempt.”
“Your father’s orders were clear,” he said, reluctant to let that chance go. He wanted to see Milo’s smug face staring up at him in fear. The brat annoyed him. As did those women in his team. “Won’t it cause problems if you just let him go?”
“I’m not letting him go,” she snapped. “I’m just reevaluating. He’s not an idiot. He clearly knows we’re desperate. But if we go through with that, he’ll never trust us. And there’s a risk he’ll die in the attempt.”
“I’m too good to let that happen,” Tamper said. He knew she was right, though. There was always risk.
But he really wanted to see Milo squirm like a fish on a hook.
“However good you are, things happen in combat,” she said. “And I want him to trust me. I need him to trust me. And my family.”
“I don’t see why.”
“It’s not for you to see why,” she said waspishly. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, Mage Stern. I am very tired and upset at the moment.”
“Understandable,” he said with a wave of his hand. “He’s a bit of a brat.”
“Yes. Yes, he is.” Vesna shook her head and held her little owl close to her heart. “I just don’t know what he wants. And I can’t believe he really thinks the Paddstones are an inconvenience. He has to be scared.”
“I know I would be,” he said, shuddering at the thought. “They’re not a family you want to poke. And he didn’t poke. He went at their nest with a club.”
“Exactly!” She squeezed the owl. “So, he has to understand how badly they want him.”
“Maybe he thinks the Court will protect him.”
“They’ll protect him only for as long as it’s convenient,” she snorted.
“Yeah, but he might not understand that,” Tamper pointed out. “He’s just a simple guy. He used to make clocks, right? So, what does he know about politics? Probably not a lot.”
“I think he knows more than he pretends,” she muttered. Then she frowned. “But maybe you’re right. I just don’t know how to get through to him.”
“Does he know the Paddstones have mobilized their army?”
“Everyone’s talking about it, so he has to by now.”
“I still think he’s relying on the Court,” Tamper said. “He’s too complacent for it to be anything else.”
“Maybe.” She lifted the owl and tapped her chin with it. “But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like he knows something I don’t. Something which gives him an advantage I can’t see.”
Tamper nodded.
Only one other thing came to mind.
“He’s a normie, right?”
“Apparently.”
“A normie in a team with a rank nine.”
“Yes.”
“Ain’t that a bit weird?” He gave her a meaningful look. “What kind of rank nine would want to be in a team with a normie?”
“I think they’re lovers.”
“If that’s the case, you gotta see it from his point of view,” Tamper said. “He’s a normie in a team with a woman who, by all accounts, practically blows through dungeons. How’s that going to make him feel?”
“Invincible,” she said.
“Right.” Tamper shrugged. “And he’s a kid who’s never left the city. So, he’s got no experience. He probably thinks dungeons are what real life is all about. Maybe he thought what he did to the Paddstone kid was like doing a dungeon. He just walked in and killed the boss, right?”
“Maybe,” she said, still tapping the owl to her chin. “You think his confidence comes from his companions.”
“Right.” The mage nodded. “I mean, he’s a normie. Even if he’s the best with a mana rifle, and from what I hear he’s pretty good, they’re nothing against a proper mage.”
“You’re not afraid of them?”
“Not much. I mean, I wouldn’t want to get shot by one. But I can defend myself against a shot or two and get to him before he can reload. What’s to be scared of?” He stifled a yawn. It was getting late. “At the end of the day, our magic is superior, and he’s just a normie.”
She considered the mage’s words.
He wasn’t wrong.
But a part of her whispered that there was something else.
Milo looked too confident. Not just in his companions. But in himself. What could make a man that confident?
“I’ll think about it some more,” she said slowly. “In the meantime, cool off. Leave him alone. I’ve asked all my people to move back.”
“You don’t need me, then?”
“For now, no.”
“Then I might head into the city, if that’s alright.”
“What for?” She showed a suspicious squint.
“I’ve been studying that golem.”
“You want to catch it?”
“Why not? It’s worth a lot.”
“Is it worth your life?”
“I’m careful.”
“You can do what you want,” she said at last, eager to give him a little rope. Her father had told her it was important to let her subordinates feel like they had more freedom than you wanted them to have. “But make sure to check in every evening.”
“Alright.” He looked pleased, and that almost made her smile.
If only Milo could be more like Tamper, Vesna could have wrapped him around her finger by now. This man was interested in only power and gold. In that order.
What was Milo interested in?
Other than spending time with the three women in his team, he didn’t seem to have any interests.
And her attempts to get close to them had proven embarrassingly painful.
Something, she thought angrily. She was missing something.
“Ugh,” she said, tossing her owl onto her bed. “Blast that man.”
Up in the vent, Click 4 took a few slow steps away from the grille, then turned inside the pipe and raced away.