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ID: Nvh1BTbG/qst/6261156#6279623
7/24/2025, 6:37:44 AM
>>6279192
>“You want me to…sign a contract?” Try as you might to decipher the scrawlings on the paper Dexithea has handed you, it was clear that this was an alien language you were unfamiliar with. Honestly, after all this, did they really still think you were some meathead? That you would just sign a binding contract all for some promises of power and a head start during the Competition? “My Adjunct should probably look at this before I sign anything. Bring Alvin here and have him translate.”
“YOUR Adjunct?” Nicon asks, a look of abject amusement on his face. “He is OUR Adjunct. He answers directly to us as his superiors in the College. You foreigners have no claim on our subordinates. While we certainly ‘appreciate’ that you kept him and the Agarthium safe from all manner of peril, we fail to understand what Adjunct Alvin saw in you. The other competitors that have been presented to us by other Adjuncts have been far more agreeable, and responsible for far less damage.”
>“So is that a no?”
“That is a no.”
You crumple up the contract into a paper ball, and toss it on the floor before the Four Sages.
>“No deal then.” You laugh heartily in the face of the Sages, standing tall. “Don’t tell me some losers actually signed that crap? Well, good. They’ll need all the help they can get I suppose. I don’t need your assistance for what lies ahead. I’ll win the Competition. And when I do, whether I choose to open Tartarus or not will be my decision alone.”
“Such arrogance.” Dexithea mutters, picking up the ruined contract with a displeased look. “Is this conduct befitting a foreign guest? Who do you think you are?”
>“Tristain d’Rusalka. The future King of Morfis! And mark my words, my first act as King will be to topple the four of you!”
“Is that a threat?” Chryson leans over his podium. You can sense powerful magics beginning to emanate from the Dark Sage.
You’d been talked down to by these wretches for long enough. It was time you gave them a piece of your mind.
>“I may not have all the answers. The conspiracies that wrap this land are bound so tightly that I have no idea who is screwing who. And…I suspect that you don’t either.”
“Hah! What do you speak of?” Nicon asks.
>“The pirate ship that attacked Alvin’s vessel. The Riahi that tracked him down to Ithaca. Marek and his cult seeking to take over Hima. And then that business in Shangri-La with Targa and Andreas. These are no mere coincidences. They all followed Alvin’s trail. Or rather, the Agarthium. Alvin hypothesized that one of you may be a traitor, seeking to claim the power of Tartarus for themselves. After all, only you would have had the knowledge and authority to know the route he was taking, as well as to command the Yasha to silence Andreas.”
>“You want me to…sign a contract?” Try as you might to decipher the scrawlings on the paper Dexithea has handed you, it was clear that this was an alien language you were unfamiliar with. Honestly, after all this, did they really still think you were some meathead? That you would just sign a binding contract all for some promises of power and a head start during the Competition? “My Adjunct should probably look at this before I sign anything. Bring Alvin here and have him translate.”
“YOUR Adjunct?” Nicon asks, a look of abject amusement on his face. “He is OUR Adjunct. He answers directly to us as his superiors in the College. You foreigners have no claim on our subordinates. While we certainly ‘appreciate’ that you kept him and the Agarthium safe from all manner of peril, we fail to understand what Adjunct Alvin saw in you. The other competitors that have been presented to us by other Adjuncts have been far more agreeable, and responsible for far less damage.”
>“So is that a no?”
“That is a no.”
You crumple up the contract into a paper ball, and toss it on the floor before the Four Sages.
>“No deal then.” You laugh heartily in the face of the Sages, standing tall. “Don’t tell me some losers actually signed that crap? Well, good. They’ll need all the help they can get I suppose. I don’t need your assistance for what lies ahead. I’ll win the Competition. And when I do, whether I choose to open Tartarus or not will be my decision alone.”
“Such arrogance.” Dexithea mutters, picking up the ruined contract with a displeased look. “Is this conduct befitting a foreign guest? Who do you think you are?”
>“Tristain d’Rusalka. The future King of Morfis! And mark my words, my first act as King will be to topple the four of you!”
“Is that a threat?” Chryson leans over his podium. You can sense powerful magics beginning to emanate from the Dark Sage.
You’d been talked down to by these wretches for long enough. It was time you gave them a piece of your mind.
>“I may not have all the answers. The conspiracies that wrap this land are bound so tightly that I have no idea who is screwing who. And…I suspect that you don’t either.”
“Hah! What do you speak of?” Nicon asks.
>“The pirate ship that attacked Alvin’s vessel. The Riahi that tracked him down to Ithaca. Marek and his cult seeking to take over Hima. And then that business in Shangri-La with Targa and Andreas. These are no mere coincidences. They all followed Alvin’s trail. Or rather, the Agarthium. Alvin hypothesized that one of you may be a traitor, seeking to claim the power of Tartarus for themselves. After all, only you would have had the knowledge and authority to know the route he was taking, as well as to command the Yasha to silence Andreas.”
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