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Battleforged
Battleforged

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Chapter 556 - Cutting out the middleman.

The loud grinding noises from below in the quite functional cannery were perfectly muffled by the well insulated walls as a powerfully built man took his ease, legs crossed as he leaned back and took a puff of his aromatic stogie, smiling while a young woman dressed in nothing more than a sheer satin kimono that didn’t do justice to her voluptuous curves sat on his lap and answered the phone.

“Yes, Lord Domini. We have the Carpenter situation well in hand. No, sir. We don’t expect any unforeseen complications. I assure you, sir. Our elites are professionals, more than capable of acting with perfect—”

Her words cut off with a thump. She choked back a startled cry as her man’s cigar fell from his fingers when a smiling blood-spattered madman who had appeared from nowhere gently claimed the phone.

“Hey there, Domini. The Stompers will call you back later, ‘kay? We got things to discuss. I’m sure you understand.”

The words hardly registered on the woman filling the poor kimono to bursting, her eyes fastened on the still blinking head leaking blood all over the lovingly polished desk of gold filigreed mahogany.

Eric gently put the phone back on the old fashioned rotary receiver.

He then pulled out his tablet.

“And you would be...”

“Meriam Sing,” she squeaked.

Eric nodded, his warm and only slightly bloody smile inviting confidence. “Thank you, Meriam. So, what should I call your boss?”

She whimpered.

Eric tapped the head who’s mouth had just twisted in a silent scream, eyes gyrating with agonies unfathomable as Eric repeated his question.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Tory,” the man said at last with a tired sigh. “Malcom Tory. And you would be Eric Carpenter, right?”

Eric winked. “Bingo.”

The powerful body cultivator cursed softly under his breath, massaging his temples. “Of course you are. Now can you tell me why my employee’s head is presently on my desk?”

“Because your boy crossed the line.”

“Recommending you shift your major to save everyone a major headache?”

“Nah, that part was fine. A bit of bullying is what I’d expect of an isekai cultivation adventure.” Eric’s smirk hardened. “When he threatened to rape my sister—when I saw the ugly hate of a failed loser glittering in his eyes—yeah. Sorry, Tory. I could tell that piece of trash meant every damn word he said. And between you and me, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty if it saves my sister years of therapy trying to heal from trauma that never really goes away... and maybe a slit throat. So, really, there was only one way this could end,” he declared, patting Ku’s writhing head.

Hard eyes glared into Tory’s own. “I’m sure you understand.”

Tory paled. “Well, shit. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Glad to hear it. Now I think it best that we come to an understanding, Tory. Whatever beef or fun and games me and your organization are going to enjoy, my family stays out of it. And since no academy prep student with political aspirations wants a reputation for wanton slaughter, and I don’t need my mom’s sad, disappointed look killing my appetite... this entire morning never happened. For either of us.”

Tory took a shuddering breath, before jerking a nod. “Agreed. And the rest of my men?”

“You mean the squad of stompers who wanted to have that quality chat with me?”

The man swallowed as the cigar smoldered on the rug. “Yes,” he hissed.

Eric winked. “They’re perfectly fine. Somehow, those goofballs went from tripping out of a second story window to collapsing right into the steel cage they had intended for yours truly. I recorded everything, of course. Just for shits and giggles.” His bemused smile hardened. “I would have been happy for a comedic farce, but Rat-face just had to cross the line.”

The once powerful cultivator who had only slightly gone to seed jerked a nod. “I respect your position and I appreciate your forbearance. We will cancel our contract with Lord Domini immediately.”

Eric’s glare turned to an easygoing chuckle. “Well then, I guess we’re square. See you around, Tory.”

“I sure as fuck hope not,” the man muttered as Eric left with a wave.

He then sighed and stomped out his smoldering cigar as the girl flounced out of his lap and immediately called their employer back.

“Lord Domini! Thank you for taking our call so promptly. Yes. Yes… no. Regrettably, my lord, we’ve been informed that the object of your ire has been granted privileged status. No, they did not deign to specify the benefactor.”

Meriam winced at the angry shouting on the other end of the line. “Yes, of course we shall reimburse you the full retainer…” Her lips pressed tightly together. “Plus a ten percent conciliation bonus as our way of apologizing to our esteemed and revered benefactor… I understand, Lord Domini. Please accept our most sincere and heartfelt apologies. Yes of course, honored benefactor.”

Meriam’s obsequious demeanor turned to a furious glare as she let up a fresh cigar of her own.

“What the fuck was that, Tory?”

Tory shook his head. “Hell if I know, boss. A Contender is my guess.”

“Of course he is,” she snapped. “He couldn’t be anything else! But why is he here? Why is he playing at being a fucking academy student, taking classes with the elites? The gauntlet hasn’t even been thrown yet. He shouldn’t be here!”

Tory nodded and began rubbing Meriam’s tense shoulders. “I agree, boss. I’ll go check on the others. Make sure they’re okay.”

“You do that,” she said, blowing a rich cloud of tobacco smoke. “I got some calls to make.”

Tory winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Careful, babe. That kid made it clear he doesn’t want any mud on his reputation.”

Meriam chuckled coldly. “You say that while our employee… former employee’s head is leaking blood all over my favorite desk.” Her lips pressed in a thin line. “But since we don’t want that psychopath coming back here before we’re better prepared… I’ll be discreet.”

***

Eric couldn’t help laughing as the wind barely rustled his hair, no matter that he was now racing at Mach 5 just above the city, taking a moment to admire the beautiful chrome and steel buildings below, broken up by winsome looking parks full of flowers and walking paths and grand towering trees giving shelter to the pedestrians as he pulled out his tablet and did his best to figure out just where the hell he was, eager to make it back to school without wasting time.

“There… finally!” Eric’s spike of anxiety faded to a relieved smile as he finally caught sight of Westwind’s extensive campus, including its own park and recreation area, as well as multiple lecture halls that blended western university architecture with grand airy pagodas. Only then did he spend a minute looking down at himself, frowning with more than a bit of disapproval. “Okay, blood splatter is not a good collegiate look.” Yet the splatter parted from his frame with a single glare, as did all sweat and grime as Blood Mastery and ES Storage did their thing, and he was happy as not to store away all particulate dirt, sweat and funk. His morning outfit was just a single surge of his will away and he was looking like the perfect, clean cut student once more.

He smirked down at the opened second story windows that were just as he had left them, less than an hour ago, and Infravision made it clear that no warm bodies were in that part of the hallway.

And even if one kid had stumbled with an awed curse, looking up at just that moment, Eric was already racing far too fast for any White-tier classer or mortal to register when he darted back through the window.

He took a final glance down the hallways before gently pressing against the classroom doors. Though he was surprised at the odd steely crack echoing through the room as he gently slipped inside and made his way to his seat with a polite bob of his head to Professor Klein who had paused in his lecture, and then he was seated once more.

Eric frowned. Surprised by the sudden dead silence.

Klein just stared at him.

Eric gave the man a polite smile, prepared his fountain pen and vellum pad, and gave a surprised-looking Rachel a friendly nod.

Klein cleared his throat. “Eric Carpenter… yes?”

Eric nodded gamely. “Correct, sir.”

The man furrowed his brow. “I was informed that you would no longer be attending this class?”

Eric froze for just a heartbeat, tension gone as if it had never been, eased with a warm chuckle and an apologetic smile. “Oh my. What a regrettable bit of miscommunication! The message should have been that I would be late to class, due to a family emergency. Not that I would no longer be attending. I apologize for any confusion, professor, and for interrupting your lecture.”

A flustered Klein blinked at this, before glancing at the door. “The door was locked.”

“Was it?” Eric shrugged. “It worked just fine for me, sir.”

The air filled with unexpectedly tense whispers.

“He never locks the door, in case one of the elites has to take a piss. He only did that today!”

“Look at the lock plate. It’s clearly broken. The door isn’t even shutting properly!”

“We all heard it crack. Did that kid actually force it open? How fucking strong do you have to be in order to do that?”

Eric let the words wash over him like waves washing across the basalt face of his gentle smile, completely unaffected, holding Klein’s gaze with his own.

Klein paled and looked away, continuing his lecture as if he had never been interrupted. “As we were discussing. The most important of all golden rules of accounting is… which one, Lady Dominus?”

Rachel flashed a surprised grimace, clearly still taking in Eric’s presence, but she answered readily enough.

“The Law of Grain, Professor Klein.”

“Very good, Lady Dominus. Mr. Carpenter, please clarify what the Law of Grain entails.”

Eric blinked, recalling one of the very few economic lessons he had picked up since arriving here in Titan Prime.

“Is that where farmers aren’t allowed to sell rice to merchants for a higher price than they sell it to highland cultivators?”

Eric suppressed a wince, feeling the judging gazes of way too many students peering incredulously his way once more.

Even Professor Klein’s lips quirked in the tiniest approximation of a smile. “Such an answer would suffice for a sprout just enrolled in his elementary school program, but as we’re an advanced collegiate course… perhaps you could explain in a bit more detail?”

Eric chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, professor. That’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

Eric didn’t need Social Perception to decipher the man’s jaded look. It was clear as anything to him that Eric didn’t belong in his class at all. He then adjusted his silver cuff links and turned to another student. “Mr. Su?”

“Yes, Professor Klein. First off, the golden law of equilibrium doesn’t specifically state that compensation must be in the form of coinage per se, and does, in fact, apply to all grains. It is with these principals in mind that one can arrive at formulations and compromises that do allow for compliance with the Council of Gong’s Lowland Laws while still producing fiscally viable crops, so long as one is permitted the use of external wholesalers and distributors, with government subsidies assuring an equitable profit for all.”

The young and eager go-getter Mr. Su then went on to fill the air with half a dozen case examples that, for the most part, flew completely over Eric’s head.

Eric turned to Rachel, who was still staring at him with an odd mixture of awed wonder and regret. He blinked, only now taking in her conservative long-sleeved Qipao, undyed hair, and very professional appearance. Eric sensed that something had changed, but all he said was, “Sorry I’m late. I don’t suppose you have a copy of those notes we talked about?” He smirked, glancing at their teacher. “I get the feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Rachel swallowed, mouth opening in a silent question before she shut it once more. She bowed her head. “Sorry, Eric. Something unexpected came up for me too.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “I will do my best to get it for you tomorrow.”

“Awesome. I really appreciate it.”

“Eric?”

“What’s up?”

“Is everything alright?”

Eric grinned. “Why wouldn’t it be, with the cutest classmate sitting next to me?”

Rachel blushed before favoring him with a tiny smile, voice as soft as Eric’s own. “Thank you, Eric.” She bit her lip, stealing a quick glance, but Klein’s focus was on the other side of the class, systematically dismantling another student’s attempted defense of his own interpretation of the 14 golden rules, and thus served as the class’s freshest scapegoat to disparage and mock between taking notes.

“I… I want to apologize for yesterday, Eric.”

Eric blinked at this, giving Rachel a surprised look. “Apologize for what?”

“For being so forward.” Her cheeks flushed prettily. “For acting in a manner unbecoming of someone of my station. I… apologize that my fascination led to an unexpected lapse of propriety.”

Eric gave her an easygoing smile. “No worries. It was fun sharing a cultural exchange with you.”

Her solemn expression crinkled in a cheeky grin. “Cultural exchange, is it?”

“Absolutely. The best kind of exchange, really.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet a boy like you enjoys all sorts of exchanges.”

He winked. “Only with the prettiest girls in class who could melt my heart with their heavenly smile.”

Her eyes twinkled warmly, a slender hand now gently squeezing his thigh. “Maybe we can exchange some more… Klein!”

But Eric was already looking away, busy transcribing fresh notes as their professor continued going over what was for Eric a truly odd collage of bookkeeping principals that he had learned long ago, and concepts he had never heard before in his life.

Despite his Scholarship and a lightning fast pen, he was sure he was missing all sorts of key underlying concepts that would allow his notes to make more sense. A part of him despaired of truly being ready in time for what would really matter this semester, the intense practicum and Klien’s individual coaching. But so long as he didn’t have to incorporate these odd golden rules, he was sure his future company would be as efficient as any other.

“Rachel,” he whispered, though kept his gaze on his work.

“Yes?”

“What happens if we just manage our business without incorporating these 14 extra rules?”

“The golden rules?”

“Yes. Those incomprehensible things.”

“As long as you don’t mind having zero chance of attracting highlanders or listing it on the exchange… nothing? I guess?”

Eric flashed a relieved smile. “Good.”

She frowned at that.

“I mean, I still want to learn what I can. Why would I close myself off to such a priceless market? But at least I’m not totally stuck, now.”

Rachel bit her lip, stealing a sidelong glance. “Just so you know… there’s another path forward, where you won’t be stuck at all.”

Eric grinned at that, pretty sure he knew where she was going.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Her hand slipped across the seat to gently squeeze his own. “Model for me.”

He smirked.

She blushed. “I mean my company,” she quickly mended, speaking hurriedly. “In fact, if you agree, I’ll… I’ll let you see me balance the books and apply the golden rules. So it will be hands-on training. At least as good as Klein’s, since you’re still learning the basics.”

Eric turned her way before slowly dipping his head. “Alright.” He was surprised by the hot flush he felt in his cheeks and the warm surprise he saw in Rachel’s eyes.

“Yes!?” It was almost a squeal, and Eric thought it a good thing that Klein had just called the end of class, Eric’s glistening red notes showing off just how exquisite and advantage monstrous Finesse had for pretty handwriting. But all Rachel had eyes for was him.

“You mean you’ll actually do it?” Oh thank you, thank you, Eric! With your good looks, my line will absolutely crush the competition. Now come on, please let me treat you to a night out on the town to celebrate!”

Eric chuckled softly, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I gave it some serious thought, last night. Why exactly was I holding back? No need to be shy, right? Fresh start at a new school, a new city… why not put my best foot forward? So, I’d be happy to partner with you and serve as the face of your line.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, Eric. I can’t wait to tell father!”

“In return for a cut of the action.”

Her excited smile hardened. The gentle light of playful affection in her eyes becoming the steely hue of a master negotiator.

Eric smirked, a part of him now wondering just how much of her innocent flirtation the other day had all been to butter up what she had instinctively measured as a perfect fit for her own endeavor.

“I’m sorry, Eric. Though I would be willing to offer top-of-the line modeling fees, in addition to allowing you to ride my success and pass our course with flying colors, profit-sharing isn’t part of the Domini business model.”

Eric leaned back, paying no mind to the murmuring students slipping free of their seats, or the small handful of smirks being sent their way.

“She’s still pursuing him?”

“I’m surprised her clan hasn’t put him in his place, already.”

“Well, he was an hour late.”

“He shouldn’t have been able to enter here at all!”

Rachel’s cheeks flushed prettily. She glared at a few of her fellows. “Idiots have no idea what they’re talking about.”

Eric, happy to pretend his morning adventure had never happened, nodded solemnly. “I totally agree. But they’ll learn soon enough, when our billboards are popping up everywhere and our clothing line is in all the top retail outlets, with our sales are a full 50% above midline projections.”

Rachel abruptly stopped organizing her notes, blinking as she frowned up at a grinning Eric.

“Clothing line launches are never a sure thing, you know.” Rachel sat back down, pulling out a vellum sheet from a separate folder in her satchel. She then placed the sheet on Eric’s table, showcasing a condensed sheet of cost and profit projections for the next year.

“Over twenty million people call NanDushi home, with a median income several times that of a laborer in the countryside. If we can penetrate just a fraction of the young adult market, my contribution to the Domini coffers will be beyond anyone’s ability to dispute or mitigate.”

“Palatial power struggles?”

She snorted. “Well, we do all live in a big compound filled with my uncles and their families, including several dozen cousins and their wives and children... so sure, you can call it that, if you like.”

“So, all the more reason to shine like the brilliant star you are.”

“Exactly.”

Eric grinned. “So if it turns out that a tiny bit of flirting was really a smart power move on your part to secure the alliance of an outsider who can help launch your clothing line to new heights with his exotic appeal… everyone will be forced to give you face, and anyone who was mocking or disparaging you before will now be forced to eat crow.”

Rachel chuckled softly, eyes twinkling. “I certainly wouldn’t mind it if the entire compound was toasting to my honor, once we’re in the black.”

Eric nodded. “Which is why I won’t ask for anything at all. Not until our profit’s up to here,” he declared, pointing to dot in the graph somewhat above her more conservative projections.

“I… honestly, I would love that, Eric. But only if you’re cool with me not paying you anything at all, if the line doesn’t work out… or works out no better than average.”

Eric nodded. “So long as I’m guaranteed 30% of all profits above that line, I’d say it’s a more than fair arrangement.”

Her eyes widened at that. “30%? Are you serious, Eric? Do you even know what you’re asking?”

Eric shrugged. “I’m asking if you’re interested in a chance to elevate your product line to soar way past the trash fashion so in vogue with most. If you’d like help cracking that market? I wouldn’t mind being a part of your team, and I won’t take a single farthing. Not unless we prove ourselves to be exceptional. Now, what do you say?”

Rachel glared at him for long moments. “30% is absurd. Even with a smile as cute as yours. Though I might go as high as 10%…”

“Twenty five percent, and I’ll even give you some bare chested shots with me looking good in swimwear or jeans.”

Rachel chortled. “You’ll be doing that anyway, my hornless hero. Now take 15% and be happy.”

“How about the standard Blue Corp 20%?”

Rachel crossed her arms, staring coolly at him for long moments. “You sure you won’t take 15%?”

Eric winked. “I’ve always been a big fan of Blue.”

Her cool gaze promising abrupt dismissal abruptly crinkled into a beaming smile as she clasped his hand. “Twenty percent it is, partner. Now let’s go have lunch and celebrate!”

Her smile stiffened when she heard a certain cheerful trill.

Eric chuckled as Ella slipped inside the auditorium.

“Eric? Are you coming to lunch with us?”

“Of course, though I might bring a friend, if she’s interested in joining us…”

Ella gave Rachel a thoughtful look, before smiling and nodding. “She seems like a nice girl. She doesn’t flinch when I look at her. You should bring her!”

Eric quickly translated for a bemused Rachel. “So… yeah. Ella seems to like you. Want to join us for lunch?”

Rachel chuckled at that. “Sure, Eric, so long as your mother doesn’t mind.”

“I’m sure she won’t,” Eric assured, though he did take the lead in slipping out of their classroom, the worry in his gaze immediately evaporating when he saw his smiling foster mother all but beaming with good health.

“Looking awesome, Mom!”

Hanna chuckled warmly at that. “Thanks to the well-timed words of my oldest. And it looks like you already have lunch plans,” she said with a pointed smile for Rachel.

“Actually, Rachel would love to join us for lunch, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, dear. We’d love to have her company.” Words said so quickly and smoothly that Eric sensed no reservation, no matter her stance the night before.

“A pleasure, Rachel. Do you have any favorite spots you’d recommend we try?”

Rachel grinned. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you prefer, Mrs. Carpenter.”

Eric, expecting a little tension, was pleasantly surprised by how well the conversation flowed between the two as they strolled casually to the cafeteria before giving their order while he did his best to keep an eager Maja and a curious Ella entertained, conversing to them in the tongue they alone knew in this time and place.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Maja asked.

Eric solemnly shook his head. “Nope. She’s my business partner.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Will you open a shop with her and get married?”

Eric snorted. “More like I’ll be modeling a line of clothes for her.”

This earned a surprised blink. “You’re going to be a fashion model?”

“Maybe?”

Maja broke out in giggles.

Ella crossed her arms, shaking her head in disapproval.

“What?”

“Fashion is for girls. They are the ones who beautify themselves to attract the eyes of a mate. It is the man’s job to tame the fiercest bulls and claim the choicest fruit and win the heart of the most fertile girl,” Ella scolded. “Of course it is that way. You must know that, Eric. Elves are smart. Unlike many other races.”

Eric suppressed a smirk. Barely. “Think of it as a game, Ella. Here, the game is how many shiny bits of gold you can get. And one thing boys and girls both like here on NanDushi are pretty clothes.”

Eric pointed out what he had all but taken for granted in the busy cafeteria, being so reminiscent of home, but he supposed was significant in its own way. “Look at all the posters here in the academy cafeteria. See all the pictures of healthy young woman wearing tight pants and blouses?”

Ella nodded. “It’s a very silly thing to do. The spiritual energy washes away machine ink so quickly. Some of these posters are already fading!”

Eric nodded. “Yet it’s profitable enough for them to simply replace the posters every few months as a cost of doing business, and it provides employment to a sector that would otherwise see very little income.” He smiled ruefully. “One of the useful things Professor Klein explained to us today that actually made sense.”

Ella nodded. “Yes, that is true, and they are all girls.”

Eric nodded. “Yup. The clothing market appealing to girls who want to look beautiful and fashionable is fully saturated.”

Ella scowled. “But no boys on wall pictures.”

Eric’s eyes widened, genuinely impressed. “You said that in perfect NanDushian!”

Rachel’s animated discussion with Hanna paused, she favored Ella with a proud clap. “Yes, that’s exactly right, Ella! All the posters here are of girls. But if my clothing line takes off with Eric’s help, half of these posters could feature your brother, and that could crack open the most sought-after market segment in the entire city right now!”

Eric blinked at this as he translated for Maja and an only partly understanding Ella, even as his thoughts raced, suddenly confronted with the significance of what working for Rachel would entail… profit share or no.

Hanna’s too knowing eyes caught his own, lips curving in a bemused smile at his expense, but all she said was, “It’s been delightful properly meeting you, Rachel, but the children have a class to attend, so I’ll let you and Eric plan out your business venture in peace.”

Eric blinked at this, earning a laugh from his foster mother.

“It’s alright, Eric. You and the girls only share two conjoined classes twice a week. We’ve chosen language immersion for the classes you don’t share, including remedial basics. I’ll be with them as well, of course, and our dear Ella is now able to communicate with me well enough to let me know if things are overwhelming for her and her sister, and if they would like to go home.”

Eric blinked at this, before slowly nodding. “Makes sense.” He gave his foster sisters an encouraging smile. “I’ll bet they’ll do awesome.”

“Of course they will. Now you go have fun with your modeling career, Eric,” Hanna said with what Eric swore was a wicked smile. Yet when a laughing Rachel pulled him out of his seat toward the exit and the nearby L-line… he couldn’t quite find it in himself to resist.

Comments

i don't know what he expected to reach when you kiss the beatifulest girl in new class. Only if you whant to take some problem or this girl expected to rescue him from problems what she make

андрей ткач

I wonder if Eric has ever considered using skywriting with contrails to get a message displayed to a large area. If he can fly that fast and high, he should be able to pick an altitude where a contrail will form and put up a nice-sized message.

Trevayne


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