Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: Martel (2)
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Martel.
Martel.
Martel.
Oliver had heard that name before. Somewhere... it sounded faintly familiar... Ah!
"You mean Martel, the Life Faction research institute?"
Oliver asked as the memory clicked into place.
When he'd come to Forest seeking work as a fixer, the man had set him a test: capture an escaped chimera from Martel.
Oliver had caught it and earned his stripes as a fixer. It felt like just the other day, yet somehow ancient history.
"Life Faction what? I don't know all that complicated stuff. They just said it was a research outfit under the Magic Tower."
The clueless innkeeper. Oliver pressed on.
"They took him on as a student?"
"Yeah... They said they're sponsoring kids with drive and talent right now. For the public good, you know? You helped and all, but Rosburn taught himself to read. They were impressed and took him."
"Ah... so that's why you let him go?"
"Yep. Rosburn seemed keen, and they offered some money too—as compensation for losing the help around here. No reason not to send him off."
"Uh... is that okay?"
"Okay? What do you mean by that? You think I sold Rosburn off to some shady place for cash?"
The innkeeper scowled, planting her hands on her hips in clear annoyance.
"No, that's not—"
"Listen here. You're a good customer and all, but barging in out of the blue and saying stuff like that is rude! You promised to come back, vanished without a trace, and now you're giving advice? And you don't even look like you're here to eat. Out with you. Don't waste my time."
The innkeeper shooed him away, genuinely pissed, waving her hands.
Oliver had no choice but to leave.
Thud. The door slammed shut, and he found himself out on the street.
Staring at the inn's warm yellow glow leaking through the windows, Oliver let out a low hum. "Hmm..."
"Martel Life Research Institute..."
***
"Mr. Dave...?"
Ding-a-ling. As Oliver pushed open the restaurant door, Al emerged.
He looked mildly surprised to see Oliver.
Not caught red-handed, just the face of an unexpected guest.
"Hello, Al. How've you been?"
"Oh, uh, yes. Sorry about that. Didn't expect you so soon. Here for the boss?"
"Yeah, is he available?"
"Of course. He's eating right now—care to join him?"
"No, thanks. I've gotta watch my spending for a bit."
Oliver wasn't hungry anyway. But Al insisted.
"Haha, it's on the house. Serving someone like you would be an honor."
Someone like him... Nice guy. Everyone here, Al included, had been kind.
Kindness deserved kindness, but Oliver really wasn't in the mood. He declined politely again.
"I'm good, really. Just not hungry."
"Ah, well, can't argue with that. I'll take you to him."
Al bowed courteously.
As promised, Forest was at a table in the corner, digging in.
White fish with roasted potatoes, drizzled in a creamy white sauce.
Paired with white wine.
Forest spotted Oliver mid-bite and raised a brow, surprised.
"Well, now... an unexpected guest. Faster than I thought."
"Sorry. Not here for work—just have a question."
Oliver slid naturally into the seat across from him.
"A question? Eat first, talk later. Al?"
Before Al could speak, Oliver cut in. He truly had no appetite.
"No, really. Not feeling it for some reason."
"Suit yourself. Food's one of life's great blessings, though. Hold on..."
Forest eyed Oliver, then spoke again.
"When'd you last sleep? You look beat."
"Hm... not sure? Pulled a few all-nighters catching up on work."
"Bad idea. Your body's your greatest asset, friend. Go crash first."
"Thanks, but I'll just ask my question and head out."
"Sigh..."
Forest sighed deeply, as if conceding defeat.
He popped a piece of fish in his mouth, chewed, chased it with wine, and asked,
"Alright, shoot. What's on your mind?"
"I want to know about the Martel Life Research Institute."
The clinking of cutlery stopped dead. Like a thread snipped by scissors.
Forest froze for a cold 1-2 seconds, eyes flicking up to Oliver.
"Martel?"
"Yeah. The place that posted the bounty on that chimera back then."
"Hm... why ask about them?"
"Got curious all of a sudden."
"Suddenly why?"
"..."
Oliver met Forest's gaze in silence.
His quiet carried more weight and persuasion than words.
Even a hardened fixer like Forest yielded a step.
"Martel Life Research Institute... Built with backing from the Life Faction. Obviously under their umbrella."
"What do they research?"
"Life and magic in general, but they focus on medicine and military applications."
"Medicine and military? That's an odd combo."
"Not really. Opposites, but intertwined. Treat soldiers' wounds, gather surgical data. Tweak modified human tech for the elite, make their bodies healthier and stronger."
Oliver nodded. It made sense on reflection.
"Fascinating."
"They grasped that quicker than anyone, grew fast. Got Life Faction support, joined the military, advanced medical magic, patented it. Now they've got real pull in both fields."
"Oh... impressive."
"Very."
"Do they do sponsorships or anything?"
"Sponsorships?"
"Yeah... someone I know went off with a Martel guy. Said it was student sponsorship. Do they do that? Wouldn't be surprised for a big outfit like them."
Forest answered Oliver's question with silence.
A heavy, oppressive silence.
After a short-yet-long pause, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, fish half-eaten.
"...The Magic Tower sponsors kids now and then. Good for the image, scouts talent. Worst case, cheap labor. If they're useless, kick 'em out when they hit adulthood. No big loss if you're flush."
"I see. But I asked about Martel, Mr. Forest."
"Martel... sure, they—"
"Mr. Forest. If you're going to lie, please say nothing at all. It'd make me sad if you did."
Oliver placed his right hand over his heart, bowing politely in request.
Something in that gesture shifted Forest. He gave in.
"Sigh... probably not sponsorship."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Life Faction looks good publicly, but most are deep into mage supremacy and eugenics."
"Eugenics?"
"Theory that superior and inferior humans are genetically predetermined. Mages buy into it mostly, but Life Faction takes it further... No way they'd sponsor for free. Especially an inferior one."
"Ah... got it."
Oliver felt less surprise, more confirmation of his hunch.
"Then why take him?"
"How should I know? Is she important? The person you know?"
"Important? ...Nah, not really."
Oliver replied.
Truth was, Rosburn meant little to him.
Just a face from the inn, someone he'd taught a bit of reading to. Nothing more, nothing less.
He didn't even know what "precious person" meant.
Forest stared hard, weighing truth from lie.
"...Well, good then. Short version: forget it."
"Pardon?"
"Forget her. The person you know. I don't know what's up, don't wanna know. Just drop it."
"Hm... still curious, though. If not sponsorship, why take him?"
"Why are you curious? And what changes if you know?"
Irritation seeped into Forest's tone. He'd stopped eating, fully focused now.
"Come to think, I forgot to tell you something when you first showed up. Rule one for surviving this city: don't buck the system."
"The system?"
"Yeah. Rand's a massive city, full of massive currents and massive fish. Swim against 'em, bite the big ones, and you're dead. Even if it feels spineless or shameful sometimes."
Spineless and shameful... his last words carried extra weight.
"You wanna tangle with Martel? A giant research institute backed by the Tower, dominating medicine and military?"
"Hm... no."
"Then drop it. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You're not doing anything with the info—why dig? Half-knowledge just brings trouble."
"Hm... right. Thanks for the advice."
Oliver bowed politely to Forest and stood.
Forest called after him.
"Oliver."
"Yes?"
"I figure you get it, but just in case: promise me you won't get involved anymore?"
Oliver pondered briefly.
"Hm... no."
***
Forest blew up at that final answer.
Oliver talked him down—don't worry so much—then bolted from the restaurant like a fugitive, heading to his next stop.
A busy day indeed.
"Well... what's this about?"
The old bookstore owner, mid-tidying, eyed the sudden visitor—Oliver. Seen yesterday, back today.
Oliver bowed politely.
"Good day, sir."
"Eh, hello. Saw you yesterday—no big drama since, right? ...But you don't look troubled."
"Not that bad."
"Not that bad means it's something... Guess there is."
He couldn't deny it.
The old man was sharp as hell.
Sure, he called himself a nobody running a dusty bookstore, but there was something off about him.
Not that weird on second thought.
Erudite on code language, and a quick chat revealed broad knowledge.
Above all, his mana.
Oliver hadn't forgotten.
That vast mana from their first meeting.
A split-second, like a second shattered into hundreds, but no illusion.
Vaster, purer than Duncan's mana bloat. Greater than any mage Oliver had sensed.
He hadn't asked only because timing was off.
But now felt right.
"Something to say?"
Oliver nodded at the old man's question.
"Sir... are you a mage?"