It went without saying that Wolf’s news caused a great upheaval in the headquarters of the Johns and Josh merchant group.

Everyone already knew that things had gone south almost as soon as the incident happened. Tracking Spell Formations inscribed on the Portable Mansion were destroyed when the lightning purged the area, and board member Cochin had made no attempt to contact the board ever since.

The last time the Viscount called the senior management his group was about to reach the old bridge spanning across the Great Yellow River. Due to the destruction of those guard posts everyone had already been expecting an ambush. However, months later they found out that ambush was an understatement for what had actually happened.

When the Ducal forces arrived to repair the guardhouses and secure the bridge they were stunned. What greeted them was a surreal hellscape. A huge area looked like it was swapped with a part of the Dis.

The surrounding forests were gone, the great bridge nowhere to be seen. The ground had sunk down a couple of meters. It was packed until it was as hard as rock and was completely scorched.

The lingering magical aura was so fearsome that Far Voices had only started working two months ago. Even now, when contacting anyone in that region, you had to shout into the clay disc and only then could you just barely make out each other’s words over the heavy static.

Worse still, the army morale had sunk to rock bottom. For some reason rumors about a vengeful spirit haunting the area had started spreading. Even before the convoy had arrived, soldiers and workers were already whispering that something horrible must have happened at the banks of the Great Yellow River.

If they discarded the rumors and speculation, the only thing Johns and Josh merchant group’s board knew was that something beyond mortal comprehension had taken place near that ancient bridge.

Finally, Wolf’s letter and Diego’s report shed light on what had actually happened. Unfortunately, Wolf refused to provide any names, only stating that a great and noble True-Namer had traveled with the caravan and wiped out everyone in a valiant suicidal attack.

After hearing the report, Duke Silverhound, who was naturally a member of the board, decided to contact the Mage Academy. If anyone knew of a True-Namer capable of performing such a feat it was the Headmaster.

“Well, an old friend of mine could’ve done it with his eyes closed. But,” Lord of Steel started. “… there are some problems. I received a report that Lord of Thunder had died years ago. Even if he was alive, he wouldn’t have killed friendlies and wildlife along with the enemy. That shows a lack of finesse that doesn’t really match a real True-Naming. But, even if he did decide to explode everything he would’ve done it by uttering a word. There would be no need for the brave men of Johns and Josh, as you described them, to buy him five minutes…”

What the Duke and Johns and Josh senior management heard was Yes, it’s possible. In their minds, if Lord of Thunder, the legendary defender of the north, could do such a thing, then a weaker True-Namer could pull it off as well, if given more time and with less control. It fit the bill perfectly.

Naturally there was one more issue. How was there a survivor then? The majority agreed that the survivor was the True-Namer himself, who got wounded in the process. That would explain why he had taken various recovery and body enhancing potions. As for why he returned the merchant group’s property it was probably out of guilt for allowing everyone to die in order for him to live.

Now they had all the facts, save for the True-Namer’s name. After reconstructing the event more or less accurately, Duke Silverhound and Johns and Josh higher ups agreed that the potions the True-Namer had taken weren’t enough of a reward. So, Diego went to bring the proxy into the meeting room and pinched him.

“Do I have your attention Sir?” After seeing the mindless beggar move his eyes Diego asked the same question as the last time, albeit with considerably more respect.

“Yes,” the beggar replied flatly.

“After careful deliberation we decided that the reward you asked for is not enough to show our appreciation,” a wizened old man sitting at the head of the table said in a dry voice. “You have no idea how much you have helped the people of Silverhound duchy. Would you be interested in a position of nobility?”

“No,” the beggar replied without taking any time for the one pulling the strings to consider the offer.

What followed was a boring conversation made up of a bunch of offers and a bunch of noes. The head of the merchant group wanted to make any sort of connection with the unknown True-Namer. He tried with wealth, position, slaves, but the True-Namer remained unmoved. Finally Wolf couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look, whatever you have, I don’t need it. Give the money to the families of the deceased. If they didn’t have families then send some food to the slums. If you think there aren’t enough people in the slums, make a shiny memorial plate for the deceased. I’m leaving.” With that frustrated statement Wolf unceremoniously severed the connection with his Living Puppet.

***

Jod blinked his eyes and found himself in a richly furnished room. He sat at the end of a very long, and equally fancy table. People wearing extremely expensive robes stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.

The man shakily touched his forehead. He didn’t seem feverish. He didn’t remember drinking. He didn’t have the money to waste on alcohol. Did he hit his head while sleeping? Was he dead?

Then after a confused moment Jod recognized some of the people present. Primarily, the man whose likeness was printed on silver coins was in the room.

Jod jumped up from his seat, bowed and then, looking very much like a tiny rodent in front of a cat, he darted his eyes around, looking for an escape path. Fortunately for him, the people gathered in this room didn’t let him off so easily.

After a brief, but civil, questioning they knew that the beggar’s name was Jod. He used to work for a merchant that went under after his caravans were robbed one time too many.

He had no idea how he got here. He had no idea who took over his mind and body. In fact he had no idea that his body was hijacked for a day or more. Apparently he was sleeping when the spell was cast and was thus unable to resist the mental attack. What he remembered was going to sleep at his usual hiding place and waking up here. That was about it.

Jod didn’t see a problem with answering all those weird questions. It took only a couple of moments for him to realize that his belly was full. He wore nice but unimpressive clothes that were brand new. That was worth more than doing chores for a couple of days, so he really didn’t mind answering questions.

Once the interview was done the wizened old man sitting at the head of the table smiled at Jod. “I like this young man. He’s good natured, calm and talks respectfully. Most importantly he’s lucky. Hire him as a clerk and treat him well. Some of his luck might rub off onto us.”

Once the meeting was over the merchant group’s head of intelligence and information brokers started trying to find any leads that would reveal the True-Namer’s identity. It was important to establish a good relationship with this unknown man.

***

Wolf was sitting under the same bridge under which he’d spent the last night. He was unaware how he had greatly improved the life of a random passerby he had basically kidnapped. Instead he focused on home improvements.

Wolf had already scribed an Alarm Spell Formation under the bridge. For now he was forced to feed it Soul Force, but he planned on finding a shop that sold Monster Cores to save Soul Force in the long run.

After double checking the Spell Formation, Wolf entered his Mind Hall for the night. He’d developed a habit over the past few months. Before doing anything else in his Mind Hall Wolf would pet Silver’s shell for half an hour or so. The warm sensation he’d get from the little one calmed Wolf’s mind greatly. He could sense the affection Silver showed for him and Wolf returned the feeling, forming a virtuous circle.

After hugging and petting the egg for a while Wolf got up and went to work. He had finally smoothened the sides of the sixth column and could now start carving them properly.

After making a couple of strokes with his chisel Wolf felt a strange warm feeling. This warmth was vastly different from the one he felt when playing with Silver. Wolf’s cheeks slowly turned red, his heart started beating faster and the flow of his blood quickened. Even with blood rushed to his head, Wolf kept on carving.

***

In the morning Wolf woke up with a yawn. He had spent the whole night struggling to carve the damn column! For some reason this one seemed to be more difficult to work with than the previous ones. To vent his frustration, Wolf decided to stretch his legs. Checking out the district where he planned on spending his foreseeable future seemed like a smart thing to do.

Silver City was huge and had an equally mind boggling number of residents. If what that beggar had said was true, in peaceful times around forty million people used to live in the city, not counting the residents of the Nobles’ district.

This number had ballooned these last couple of years. There were no actual numbers, but Jod guessed that in the slums alone more than a hundred million people lived. Wolf could hardly imagine the kind of logistical nightmare this was for the Duke. Especially managing food and suppressing disease outbreaks for this many people living in such unhygienic conditions.

Thankfully, the churches had stepped in. They fed the people as long as they joined the mass prayers to glorify whichever god the church followed.

Along his way Wolf passed a church of Skymother. There he saw fifty people in fancy robes wrapping up a roll call and then heading towards the city gate.

This is probably the relief mission that man mentioned, Wolf thought as he walked past them.

He kept walking about, looking for a store that might sell supplies for Mages. What he found aplenty were stores and street merchants selling various foods and everyday items. In his two hours of leisurely walk Wolf also ran across several taverns, a few fancy restaurants and even a brothel.

By the time Wolf saw an establishment that sparked his interest the sun was already close to setting. The shop was an Alchemist’s lab that also functioned as a store to sell their wares.

Wolf stopped in front of the large glass window. He was amazed to find that the designs in the corners were actually Spell Formation seals. The window was magically enchanted against dirt and damage. The enchantments were weak, but enough to keep the glass free of dust and scratches.

Unlike the glass, the display was rather boring and uninspiring. It was all white cloth, with a single dark brown pedestal, holding an ornate jade vial. Next to the vial stood a list of potions that the Alchemist was able to brew.

Even though he found the whole setup rather bland, Wolf scanned the list with interest. Suddenly an old man rushed out of the building.

The man was brandishing a broom while yelling at Wolf, “Get away from here you freeloader! There’s nothing for the likes of you illiterate peasants here!”

Wolf was dumbfounded. What did he do to upset this old man? “Mister, I’m just checking which potions your store can brew.”

“Reading? You?! If you can read that list I will eat my pestle,” the old man snorted.

Wolf shrugged. “Potion of Lesser Stamina Recovery, potion of Minor Healing, potion of Light Healing, potion of Protection from Elements… Is there really a need to write the words potion of at the start? As far as I can tell the whole list has the same prefix. If you added it as a suffix then you can at least get rid of ‘of’… Also, for those not well versed in potions, wouldn’t it be advisable to write down the effects of these potions? You know, a short description?”

The old Alchemist stared at Wolf with disbelief, his mouth wide open. The words this urchin used, the relaxed manner of speech…

“So when do I get to see you eating your pestle?” Wolf asked with a bright, innocent smile.

Wolf’s mocking words finally brought the old man back to reality. “You cheeky little bugger! I’ll spank you until your bottom’s fifty shades of purple!”

He moved towards Wolf as if to slap him, but came to a stop half a step away from the boy. “Why aren’t you running away?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Why would I run away? Have I done anything wrong? Anyway, can you make Superior Energy Expanding potions? Or Superior Clarity potions? How much would they cost?” Wolf spoke calmly while expectantly looking at the Alchemist.

The listed potions were all low tier, but that didn’t mean that this old man couldn’t make anything better.

“Are you insane!? Why would I be here if I could make those?! You need a Grandmaster Alchemist to make something like Superior potions!” the Alchemist exploded in rage once more, he thought that this boy was mocking him. Probably an urchin sent by his competition to kill him with stress.

“I’ll take that as a no. What about Greater variants of the potions I asked? I can settle with those too.” Wolf asked, completely forgetting that he was dressed like a street urchin at the moment.

He genuinely tried to hold a serious conversation with the Alchemist. Unfortunately he failed to come across as such. In part because of his age, in part because of the shabby clothes he wore.

“Are you making fun of me just because you can read!? I sell the items on the list and that’s it! Now get going or I’m going to call the guards!” the old man roared, but Wolf didn’t mind him too much.

Instead he glanced at the list once more. Unfortunately it didn’t change to suit his needs. Nothing on it interested Wolf, since the highest quality potion had a Moderate suffix before its name. Such things were basically useless to Wolf.

He sighed. Maybe he could ask the old man whether there were any more competent Alchemists around, but Wolf was afraid that the Alchemist would have a stroke. Not wanting a silly grumpy old man on his conscience, Wolf walked away.

Wolf finally realized that this city was huge. It was too big to find anything by aimlessly wandering. Maybe he could go to the pawnshop and get the list of the best stores in the city? Maybe buy a map? But it was too late now and the pawnshop was too far away. Maybe he should instead find a merchant group that would ship food to Oakwood Freeland?

Wolf tried to talk politely with his fellow homeless people, but surprisingly he got the silent treatment. Everyone acted as if they didn’t even hear him. It was kind of annoying, but not enough for Wolf to turn violent. If these people didn’t want to talk he wouldn’t force them.

Finally Wolf managed to find a slovenly drunkard that looked like he was in his early thirties that didn’t ignore him. Unfortunately the drunkard wasn’t really helpful either. The vagrant took a big swing from his oddly shaped wine skin before answering Wolf’s question. “Little brother, if you fix us a nice supper, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Wolf looked at the bum sprawled on trash. The dirty, unholy creature looked like he didn’t have a single trustworthy bone in his body, but he was the first that didn’t outright ignore Wolf.

The worst thing that can happen is I lose a single ration. “All right. Give me a couple of minutes,” Wolf said after understanding his risks.

The boy ran out of the alley without waiting for the bum to answer. Once he went around a couple of corners he took out dried rations from his Ring of Holding. Wolf waited a bit before running back waving a fistful of bacon. “Here!”

The drunkard completely ignored Wolf and the food he brought. “Little brother, aren’t you being a bit too insincere with me right now? I don’t want that piece of trash. How about doing it like this. I tell you what you want to know and, if you’re satisfied with my information, you make me something nice to eat. All right? But you have to prepare the food personally, not bring me some dry trash.”

“What if I can’t cook?” Wolf blurted out.

“Hah! Please! I can tell at a glance that you cook on a regular basis. And I know your cooking is better than rations, otherwise you wouldn’t cook when you have rations to eat,” the bum said with surprising astuteness.

Wolf looked at his hands, but couldn’t spot anything particularly unique about them. How does he know I cook? Is there a way to spot something like that?

“Doesn’t matter whether you trust me now, Little brother. You want to find a merchant company that sends caravans towards Northshield. Listen, if you go to…” the drunkard gave a detailed description about a company, saying that it perfectly satisfied all of Wolf’s needs.