Chương 94: 7 - LOOT EXCHANGE

German Casas was in a state of deep contemplation. The day had been long and arduous; three excursions accompanying hunters on their bounties, a full report typed up and delivered to Corlander, and on top of that, his work was not finished. It was far past 6 pm, the usual ending of a workday, and he found himself staring into the dial of an old com radio.

For months, at this exact time, unless he was otherwise incapacitated, he would flip through the frequencies on the faint hope that there might be another surviving colony out in the world. One like their own. Perhaps even the one in the sea. Anywhere. Though it wasn't for the sake of helping them. Like all things, it was a business transaction. Aquisitions. Is what they would've called the job before. Seeking out potential partnerships for the company to stack its own assets.

German was to monitor the radio, and if someone happened to answer his calls, then he was to seek out a way to enter into a trade agreement. A loot exchange. But no one answered. After a month and a half of this, for the first time, German thought, "This is a waste of time." And just stared at the numbers. There was a knock at his door, spurring him back to life. He stood from the small desk in his room, like something a college student would use in a cramped room with a bunk bed behind it.

He had no secretaries or assistants, and he kept his door locked. So took a gander through his peephole, saw who it was, and tidied up his clothes. T'balt Ferrier stood on the other side, impatiently waiting, and when the barrier between them opened, "How long do we have to wait for Corlander to meet with us?" German stared a moment, a tactic to make an aggressor realize that their tone was unnecessary. After the young man realized, German invited him inside to have a seat.

T'balt was underwhelmed by the room, an office that doubled as a bedroom with one twin-sized mat on the floor in the corner. The rest was heavily organized with filing cabinets, drawers, and a safe next to the mat. He would call it plain. German called it efficient.

"I thought you were adjusting well to the Hunter's Club. Has your time here been unsatisfactory?" German said plainly. He leaned on his desk while offering T'balt the seat behind it. He didn't take it.

"No. It's been good. We're doing fine. Better than fine. But, see, certain people in my party think that you're giving us the runaround. And I need to make sure this thing with Corlander is actually happening."

"You mean your healer?" T'balt reluctantly nodded.

"She has a point, though. Since the first day, you've hardly mentioned Corlander, and I haven't even gotten my bag back." German smirked. The kind of condescending smirk as if to say, " You poor, naive child.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, ' Patience is a virtue'?" he asked.

"I'm not trying to rush him. It's just it would help if—""It was a binary question." German slowly paced around the room, matching his steps with every two clicks of an analog clock hidden somewhere in the room.

"I've heard the phrase." T'balt's face sparked annoyance.

"It is a virtue. But there are certain people in the world of high-stakes negotiation who know that you think that. But in reality, time is just another commodity to be bargained with. A tool. A weapon. It's often a negotiation strategy to exhaust your opponent's time as a resource. Then they will be more likely to make concessions. They'll have less time to correct mistakes in their logic. And if done well enough, you'll get exactly what you want just by exerting the pressure of their own deadline."

"So are you saying that's what Corlander is doing?"

"I'm saying, your healer may be right. And you should be more protective of your time." he paused, tasting something bitter in his mouth, before suddenly turning away.

"Corlander, of course, thinks the same way. His time is very precious to him. And he uses almost all of it to take care of his community and his personal needs. He will see you, just as soon as he's ready. In the meantime, it might help his sense of urgency if you tell me what it is you're seeking in Graceland." T'balt stood confused for a moment. He wasn't sure if the man was currently using another "negotiation tactic" on him. He said everything with the same cold calculation.

There was something here he knew he shouldn't trust.

"We're looking for… someone."

"Do you have a name?"

"No. But there's a high likelihood that they're inside that city."

"And you know that how?" The man was prying, but T'balt wasn't comfortable telling him about the Redeemers. He made it a point with Cannon and the others that information should be kept between them. Not everyone responded to it helpfully. And he got the feeling that giving that knowledge to this Mitas Corlander would've put them in serious jeopardy.

"We were asking around," he said. Then he remembered something.

"You said there was someone in there you were looking for, too, right?" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. German actually cracked a smile then. A genuine one.

"Yes. That is a passion you and I just so happen to share."

"They must be very important to you."

"Why do you say that?"

"That was the only time, since I met you, that I felt like I was talking to a real person." German fixed his face, the comment offending him and being in need of correction. He sat down in his chair.

"This person holds great value to the Corlander corporation. A former employee. That's all."

"Well, maybe… to help his sense of urgency, I could offer to help you find this person once I'm inside."

"You would?" That got the man to crack a moment. He shifted his jaw and rolled his chair to the safe in the corner. T'balt watched him handle a neatly assorted stack of letters with bookmarks between the pages like a screenplay manuscript. But all the words were handwritten in neat cursive.

"The woman's name is Tyene Demue. I know she's there because she's sent me letters from inside."

"Inside Graceland? How?"

"I don't know. The first letter just appeared when I was on a hunt. The second was laid on the ground directly in a path that I walk to clear my head. I don't know how, but these letters just seem to find me. But I have no idea how to send one back. I've read all of them. The woman is… elusive." He was talking quickly, like the words just escaping his mouth, and his body was getting jittery, tapping where he could. He noticed T'balt staring at the stack and added.

"None of them has any word on how to get inside."

"Then I'll help you get in touch with her once I get inside Graceland," T'balt said.

"Understood," German said, standing.

"And in return, I will try to expedite your meeting with Corlander. T'balt shook his head.

"I don't want anything in return. This means a lot to you. So I'm going to help you. That's all." German waited, face stopped in utter confusion, waiting for the catch to be added to that statement. But when none came, T'balt simply smiled and left the room. Acelin Tinker was beside himself with boredom. It wasn't often he was allowed to roam freely alone, but a few days within the Hunter's mansion, and it was suddenly safe for him to be on his own.

He thought it was a ridiculous notion, considering he could probably level the entire place with nothing but his brain. The others were just protective like that. Ms. Brazer, especially. He would've sworn the woman thought she was his mom. But she was exhausted after their hunt today, and fell straight into bed. Cannon had decided to go chat up some of the maids to see if he might "get lucky," whatever that meant. So Acelin enjoyed his time free of them, just for a little bit.

Though the Hunter's club was nowhere near as exciting as the expensive decor would suggest. No video games. The only movies they had on the TVs were ancient artifacts he'd never heard of. The only real thing anyone here concerned themselves with was loot. It was everywhere: on the walls, in the stores. It was all they could talk about, too, bragging about the haul they just brought in or the combination someone decided to try.

He got enough of that kind of talk from T'balt, so he was looking for something new to occupy his time. He watched an older man drop off his special stache at the counter clerk. He had completed an A-rank bounty. Something that they had been searching for a long time. The person at the counter looked almost traumatized.

"Thank you. The Collector will want this right away."

"Be sure, he knows who got it for him," the man said.

"The Collector?" Acelin thought.

"Who is that?" He always wondered what happened to all their loot once it got deposited. They turned in enough over their few days here to fill a store, and yet they seemed to be stocked with the same cache as when they got here. So where did it go? The lady called someone on a walkie-talkie, triggering a set of armed guards to come retrieve the loot. This was an opportunity. A stealth mission. Acelin followed the men, not having to stay too close.

He'd let them get some distance down the hall, then use his speed to quickly catch up with them. Overhearing them, they kept saying they were taking the loot to "the boss."

"The boss must be that Corlander guy." The man had been hyped up since they got here. The man they were waiting for. The boss of the whole operation. What kind of person would Acelin be if he didn't take an opportunity to at least see the man? A person with no appetite for exploration, that's what. He hid behind a column only for the men to close themselves inside an elevator. He groaned, knowing he couldn't just pop in there after them. But he was resourceful. He watched the elevator count up to 5.

Then he went outside to try something. The Redeemer once told him that if he used his psychic power on his shoes, then he could move them in the air with him in them. Then it's good evening, thank you for traveling on Acelin Airlines. He'd always wanted to fly, but the psychic powers could only pick up an object he could see. He couldn't see his whole form, but he could see his shoes.

He started floating above the perfectly trimmed bushes on the side of the building, almost too excited that he actually got it to work.

"I've gotta be like a rank 1 loot user." He boasted.

"Whoa!" He slipped and was suddenly dangling upside down, struggling to hold his shoes in the air. He had forgotten to keep his balance. Though at the moment, it seemed easier just to float upside down. So he raised himself up to a window on the fifth floor, peeking inside just by a corner. There he saw them. The guards were delivering the loot to a man in a great big office. But it was dimly lit, almost too dark to see if it wasn't for the narrow beam of light coming through the closed curtains.

As quickly as they came, the guards left, leaving the man on his own. Then Acelin saw the strangest thing. When the man took his shirt off, it was covered in tattoos, like his skin was nearly turned black, and he was radiating some smoky substance. Acelin peeked in further, and he could see that the marks were the same as the ones on the back of their necks. But there had to be at least a hundred of them on this man. How was he still alive?

The new loot coin squirmed in the man's hand as he found an empty spot on the left side of his stomach. The coin entered and formed a new tattoo. The man breathed in, like he could suck in the air of the entire universe, and his eyes glowed red. Like Ellie's did, but somehow more vicious and bright, like there was a red sun inside the man's head. Then sharply, he turned his head towards Acelin's window. The kid gasped and suddenly fell four stories before catching his shoes and himself.

He dropped quickly to the ground and sped away, far away. He didn't tell anyone what he saw. He didn't want to tell anyone that it made him scared. And he didn't know if it was even real, but that next morning, as they all slept in the same room, Acelin and Ellie in the bed, T'balt and Cannon on the floor, they got a knock at the door. It was German.

"Mitas Corlander will see you now."