Bog Standard Isekai

Hogg started talking, and Brin used a couple Directed Threads to jot it down. For paper, he flipped the original contract around and started writing with the pen Glyn had given Hogg.

It was a little strange at first to feel his arm moving without his direct control, but when he looked up and met Glyn’s eyes it was easy to ignore it.

DT2: Error. Please return vision to the target.

Brin looked back down so that the directed threads could see what they were doing. While he wrote, he said, “I’m so dumb. I don’t know why I could ever think you guys are hurting for money. This place is fantastic! A real paradise, and I know Sion is a practical person. There’s no way you would live so well unless you could really afford it.”

Glyn smiled, looking a little more at home with the direction this conversation was going. “Ah, you flatter me. It’s nothing much. Barely adequate, really, but well within our means.”

“So your problem must be something else.”

Glyn’s smile turned exasperated again. “What problem? It is true that it is sometimes a trial to live so far from my dear family, but with Sion now here with me, life has never been better!”

Brin shook his finger at Glyn, still writing with the other hand. “You’re trying not to burden me with it. I respect that, but I’ll have it out of you! It must be a political problem. Did you run into trouble with a guild or a noble family?”

“Nothing of the sort! How can I make you believe me?”

Brin used his free hand to pull the ring Lumina had given him out of the necklace he kept under his shirt, and set the pen down for a brief moment to put it on his finger.

DT2: Error. Return pen to hand.

Brin started writing again, Lumina’s signet ring firmly on his finger. Sure, Sion had told Glyn that Brin was an [Archmage’s] son, but he’d never actually shown him the ring. It was one thing to hear a rumor, and it was another thing to see proof.

“Hogg and I are terrific at dealing with problems like that. Just today we thumbed the eye of the Hackman’s Guild by bringing our own guy to drive the carriage. We’re kind of hoping that they’ll get offended and do something stupid so we can crush them. They probably won’t, though. I bet they’ll just roll over and take it.”

Brin didn’t know how much power the Hackman’s Guild actually had, honestly, or if they would be offended by what Hogg had done. He was just trying to say things that an arrogant young noble would say.

“But why? Have they offended you?” asked Glyn.

Brin shrugged. “No reason. Just bored, I guess. But I don’t think a guild could stifle the Wogan Mercantile Group. I respect you guys more than that.”

“Thank you,” said Glyn.

“It’s not like we haven’t done any research. We looked you up, and you’re a big deal. You’re nearly as untouchable in Prinnash as I am here in Frenaria.”

“Quite kind, but I would never go so far as that,” Glyn said with a little more uncertainty.

“It’s a noble house, isn’t it? Tell me the name and I’ll take care of it. Lumina won’t get upset if I crush one little noble house here in Blackcliff. I bet she’d even let me seize the title if I wanted. I’ve never really wanted a title, but maybe you could use one? It would be easier to do business in Frenaria if you had lands and a protectorate.”

“That’s… not necessary,” said Glyn.

“It’s really fine. Frenaria doesn’t sweat the little things when it comes to the family of an [Archmage].”

“That is very comforting to hear,” said Glyn. “However, my own country might see it as disloyal.”

Brin had an idea. He created a conscious thread, with the idea that it should use his illusion magic to make himself look a little more frightening.

Main: Make sure to be subtle, I don’t want to give away that I’m an [Illusionist].

CT1: Yeah, I got that. I was literally a part of you when you had this idea, remember?

He looked down, pretending to busy himself with the contract he was writing. Time sped up, and his brain seemed to be moving double time. He could still hear Hogg telling him what he should write, but he tuned it out; his directed thread was dealing with that. Glyn pretended not to be reading it as Brin wrote, but he could see the growing concern and the offense in the man’s features.

His hand stopped. Hogg was done. He picked the paper up and skimmed over it while stalling for time. Hogg had really gone all out, just from the first parts Brin could see, it dictated that Wogan turn over the shipping portion of his business to Brin, pay him for the privilege, and guarantee to cover any losses should the venture not be as profitable as they hoped.

Finally, his thread put a message in the master log.

CT1: Alright, I made your eyes lose all their color and the pupils are larger and blacker; they should look like pits into the void now. I also made your skin turn grayish and your clothes darker. I darkened it all gradually over the course of a few minutes, so he shouldn’t have even noticed it happened. I also pitched your voice down a little. I’m going to go into low power mode until this is done so you don’t get distracted by the influx of new memories. DT4 is maintaining the illusion.

Perfect. He felt time go back to close to normal, and then looked up to meet Glyn’s eyes and spoke slowly. “Why do you look so nervous? Don’t worry about a thing. You don't have anything to fear. There’s no one who can touch you at all if I’m on your side, Glyn. There’s nothing I can’t do; no, there’s nothing I won’t do for the people I care about.”

“Yes, I quite understand,” said Glyn.

Brin put the paper down and slid it towards Glyn. Glyn picked it up, pretending that he hadn’t already read every word.

“So what do you think? Like I said, it’s my first time writing a contract. Did I do a good job?” He put on just the hint of a mocking smile.

“Yes. Excellent. This is very… thorough,” said Glyn.

Main: To DT4, please fade out your illusions over the next thirty seconds.

DT1: Understood.

“What? No!” said Brin. “I was just writing random stuff down. I had hoped you could look it over and see what I did wrong.”

“I see no mistake,” Glyn said grimly. “I’ll sign immediately. Where is my pen?”

Brin offered Glyn his pen back, but Glyn refused. “You keep that one. I’ll find another.”

He took a second pen from a compartment under the desk.

“No.” Brin shook his head slowly. “No. I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling that you’re only signing this to make me happy. I don’t think this is a very good deal for you.”

“That could not be further from the case!” said Glyn. He signed his name on the bottom with a flourish. “See? It’s done. My friends, let us celebrate! I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship!”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Something was wrong. It wasn’t the fact that Glyn had signed; he’d been expecting that.

No, what was weird was that he hadn’t even the hint of a Skill trying to mess with his emotions. Not when Glyn had made a big ostentatious display of power, not when he’d pressured them to sign quickly, and not now.

Glyn didn’t have any of the [Merchant] mind Skills. Or he wasn’t using them.

“No. I can’t agree to this,” said Brin. He picked up the contract and tore it in half, then tore the pieces in half again and again.

DT4: Illusions fully faded out. Returning.

CT1: Returning.

“I refuse to win if that means that you lose. We need to figure out something where we both win, or we shouldn’t do business at all. I’m not going to sacrifice our friendship just so I can scoot sharp pieces of metal around in a boat,” said Brin.

Glyn scowled, but Brin couldn’t help but feel that he looked a little happy. “But young my friend, there was nothing at all the matter with the contract you drew up!”

Brin shook his head. “What are you talking about? We gain ownership of your vessels? I can’t believe I thought that would be a good idea. We should do what your contract said! You take ownership of the goods the moment they go onboard. You can pay us what you think is fair after the goods have been sold and after all your expenses.”

“Madness!” Glyn said. “What I think is fair may not be what you think is fair! You'll have all the profits after expenses. These are your items, are they not? Although, I will admit, there was a reason I asked for complete ownership in the original contract. I have Skills that improve the quality of goods while they are in my care. This isn’t a simple trick of Value Sense, either, but an actual increase in quality. Your armor will be stronger, and enchantments will see increased potency.”

Brin was about to use Silent Voice to ask Hogg to step in, because he was quickly getting out of his depth here, but the old guy didn’t need prodding. He said, “Well hold on now, I can’t let you give us a hundred percent of profits. You have to at least take what House Caravala would ask for.”

“I could never!” Glyn said, aghast. “What do you take me for? House Caravala is nothing but [Thieves] and [Rogues]! They’d ask for seventy percent. No! No my friend, you must let me give you the seventy percent.”

“Ridiculous!” Hogg said with a snort. “Try again.”

“Sixty?” Glyn tried.

“Thirty-five,” said Hogg.

Glyn held his heart as if he’d been stabbed. “How could you wound me with such a suggestion?”

Hogg seemed to find his feet after that. He quickly started to understand that he could be as mean and nasty as he always was, only this time he spent that energy arguing for the opposite side. Gradually, they both phased Brin out of the conversation, and neither seemed to notice when he vacated the chair and went back over to sit next to Sion.

“Excellently done, my friend,” Sion whispered.

“I feel a little bad. Did I go overboard just now?” asked Brin.

“No, no! If anything you could have gone much further!"

For the rest of negotiations, Brin was content to sit and listen. Much of the conversation was above his ability to contribute, if not exactly above his head. Actually, this was where he was comfortable. He’d sat in on a few meetings like this in his old life, but it was always as a technical expert, never really as the prime stakeholder.

He started to paint a picture of what kind of Skills Glyn had by the things he didn't budge on. At no point could Hogg and Brin claim any kind of ownership, not as partners or even as investors. This was because Glyn's Skills only worked for himself. His products would find their way to the hands of people who needed them. His potatoes would multiply in quantity as he stored them, his workers would find more money in their pockets than he had given them, and the cargo holds of his ships would be free of rats or mold–but only if they were his.

Throughout the conversation, a steady stream of servants came in and out offering treats. Sion, Hogg, and Glyn ignored them completely, while Brin nibbled at a few cookies to be polite.

The negotiation concluded with a complex scheme where Glyn would give Hogg a partial payment immediately for the products he'd be shipping, and the remainder would be paid with a line of credit whose value was tied to the eventual sale price. Hogg wanted to keep investment in the venture even though he couldn't keep ownership, and this seemed to be the best he could get while also keeping Glyn's Skills working at their best.

After the majority of the details had been worked out with the back and forth infighting, the two of them had then worked together to figure out how to keep the bulk of the profits for themselves and cut out Fernand.

When the two men finally stood and shook hands, there was obvious relief on Hogg's face, while Glyn seemed excited and stimulated the confrontation.

"And now, did I not promise you the finest tea in Blackcliff? Come, come and see how the Wogan family makes good on their boasts!"

"Uncle, my friend Brin has no taste for such things. We would not bore you with our presence," said Sion.

Glyn leaned to the side towards Hogg and said conspiratorially, "By that he means that he is bored of me. Run along, then, you scallywag! No need to listen to this old man drone on any longer."

"Uncle! How could you say this? You know that I would never call you old," said Sion.

"Ha! You see what I put up with?" Glyn asked Hogg, and the two of them left down the hall.

Sion led Brin to the portion of the mansion that he was starting to realize was his personal space. Up some stairs and to the side, there was a lavish sitting room and a nice balcony looking down over one of Blackcliff's famous black cliffs to the city below.

They sat on the balcony, and a [Maid] followed them to stand near the door, clearly waiting for something.

"My friend, what can I offer you? And I know you would rather spare us both the usual song and dance, so answer me truthfully."

That was a rather abrupt departure from the script coming from Sion, so Brin smiled to show he appreciated it and answered. "Bread, maybe? Nothing sweet. I ate too many cookies in the room, and I don't think my stomach can handle any more. Honestly, I was so nervous I thought I was going to was going to throw up."

Sion gave one glance to the [Maid], who nodded and left without a word, then shook his head at Brin. "You were nervous? Then think of my poor uncle! Did you see the look on his face when you told him in your direct Brinny way that you could kill anyone you wished and get away with it? I've never seen his face turn that particular shade of green, and I tell you this most truthfully."

"Green? I remember red. I thought he was going to snap my head clean off."

"That was not anger, but embarrassment. That was when he realized that you had just done exactly what he had tried to do to you. He lured you in and then brazenly delivered a show of strength under the guise of friendship, and then tossed a ludicrously one-sided contract in your face. I must apologize most humbly, I never would have invited you here if I knew he would behave himself in such a fashion."

Brin shrugged. "The contract we ended up with was pretty similar to the one he showed us in the first place. There was a reason it looked like that; it'll benefit us both in the end."

"In my uncle’s defense, the Frenarian’s we have worked with have asserted themselves most aggressively, and I fear he may have picked up some poor habits. But that’s no excuse! He should have explained it all honestly from the start, rather than hint that you need not even read it," said Sion. "However..."

He let the word hang in the air, looking reluctant.

"Go on."

"Despite how it looks, I must tell you that my uncle would never call someone friend and then take advantage of them," said Sion.

"I believe you.”

“If my uncle was upset by how you acted, it was only because you removed his ability to prove his sincerity by overdelivering on every promise.”

Brin stretched out his neck, surprised at the tension there. Give him a horde of zombies to fight any day; tense conversations were the worst. “Honestly if it had only been me, I probably would’ve let it happen. But it would’ve driven Hogg crazy. He’s the type of guy who needs to be respected rather than liked.”

The [Maid] returned, setting a tray of food down on an end table near their patio before leaving again. There was bread like Brin had asked for, in three varieties with butter and several different options for jam. She’d also brought a charcuterie board spread of meat and cheeses, as well as a hearty and spicy-smelling stew. Orange juice, beer, milk and wine stood in pitchers. As well as one clear glass pitcher of ice water.

Brin raised his eyebrow at the water. “Nice.”

Sion chuckled and poured himself a glass. Brin took the bowl of stew, and quickly found that it was exactly what he needed. Warm, filling, and bursting with flavor.

“Can I ask you something? And seriously no pressure if this is too personal, but why didn’t I feel any sort of mental manipulation while we were talking to Glyn?”

Sion choked on his water. He coughed, then said, “Did we also fail to strike you across the face six times? Did no one throw offal at your clothes? Has no one spit upon you? Honestly, Brin, how could you ask such a thing?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe a Frenarian [Merchant] would put up a token effort to test my mental resistance, just to show that he’s taking me seriously.”

“Frenarian madness! If you ever get the urge to place a knife in my stomach in order to prove to me that you take me seriously, I beg you to please refrain!”

Brin held up his hand in apology. “Sorry, I’m not saying he should have. I’m glad he didn’t. I guess what I’m getting at is… See how I’m a [Glasser], so everything is about [Shape Glass]. Every time I get the choice, I’ll upgrade [Shape Glass], unless some other Skill will improve that ability even more. Like, I took [Memories of Glass], but that’s only because it would make [Shape Glass] better faster than a direct upgrade. Do [Merchants] have a base Skill like that?”

“Ah, I see what you’re saying. No, this is no secret. The Skill you are looking for is [Bargain]. And we the humble grifters of Prinnash neglect it badly. After all, why bother advancing a Skill if you could be executed on the spot for ever using it?”

“Is it really that bad?” asked Brin.

“Worse, I imagine. But this weakness is to our gain. We cannot trick people into doing a deal, so we make them need to do business with us. We spend all our Skill on things that directly increase our wealth. Trades that would be losses for others are profitable for us. Other [Merchants] make their gold on the negotiating table. When a Wogan finally gets to the negotiating table, everything has already been decided.”

Brin grinned at the obvious pride in Sion’s voice. He finished the soup, and turned to the bread. Time to shake the world with an unparalleled invention from Earth. He took two pieces of bread, put meat and cheese between them, and made a sandwich. Sion barely noticed.

“It’s convenient that all your Skills only work if you have ownership. How is a [Warrior] or [Knight] supposed to abduct you in the middle of the night and force you to work for his household if all your Skills turn useless the minute you’re not in business for yourself?”

“Ah, yes, it is a truly terrible coincidence,” Sion said. “But you are mistaken in one thing; they would not bother to wait until the middle of the night.”

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