Inheriting the Trading House (3)
"Exactly, young master! Of course not. If we claimed to have known in advance about the former head of the Tushkin family—no, the ex-head's fall into the abyss, Jaren and Arshika would surely pounce on that."
"But if we say we only learned of the ex-head's true nature by chance today, Jaren will suspect us. We need a plausible explanation for how we detected the abyss..."
"Still don't get it, buddy? You brought a priest with you. Not just any priest—a saintess! We might've fooled ordinary priests up until now, but no one's fooling a saintess's eyes!"
"Aha!"
For some reason, it sounded like Magyar Gabi was clutching his neck and collapsing behind them, but Kriel ignored it. He was rummaging through the remains of Tushkin Gabi.
"What are you doing?"
"Armed? Morgina?"
"Over there."
Morgina was speaking quietly with the guards and Magyar Gabi. From what Kriel could overhear, it was about procedures for handling a family member fallen to the abyss. Being a saintess, she was well-versed in such protocols.
"And what about you?"
"Digging through Tushkin Gabi's corpse."
"That's obvious. He's clearly dead as can be—why bother?"
"I know your skills well."
"Huh?"
It dated back to Kriel's days as a sellsword. Armed had been treated like a 'last resort' in the mercenary band she led. When monsters were unusually tough or a goblin village's defenses were weirdly sturdy, they'd just blow it sky-high. The corpses weren't always intact enough for full bounties, but the results were reliable.
"The explosion's power was way weaker than a proper incantation, but Tushkin wasn't even proper demonkin—just beast level. He should've died instantly from a direct hit."
"Huh? But he survived and turned into that weird liquid monster, didn't he?"
"That's what's suspicious."
The abyss could even perform miracles like returning from death. But not at the level of a mere beast. Resurrection—whether in a temporal sense or a brutally literal one—was reserved for demonkin with serious credentials. Things might differ in the abyss's direct domain, the narak, but Gabi Manor wasn't in the heart of it; it was prime real estate in a scenic spot.
"Maybe external interference or some artifact was involved."
Kriel could normally sniff out abyss-tainted artifacts even in passing, but the entire garden was blanketed in Tushkin's ashes now, making it impossible to pinpoint anything.
"Looks like most of the rings on his fingers got wrecked in the blast too..."
Armed said as much, but she rolled up her sleeves anyway. Morgina, back from her talk and looking puzzled, figured they were hunting for something and joined in with a shovel and sieve. She handed one to Kriel and Armed each.
Highborn folk shoveling. The manor guards and even Magyar Gabi, drawn by the spectacle, ended up grabbing shovels too.
As Magyar Gabi sifted his father's ashes through the sieve, he heard a metallic clink against it.
"Found it! No idea what it is!"
Magyar Gabi pulled something from the ashes: a metal ornament etched with geometric patterns. It was probably meant to be a necklace, linked by chains like the champion's badge Kriel wore.
Kriel took the pendant from him. It had been swept up in the explosion and partially absorbed by Tuon, leaving only faint traces of its power.
"Original form looks like a tree."
A tree shape. Regeneration. A fragment of old memory flashed through Kriel's mind.
From playing Tirnanog RPG. A post on one of the game's few community sites, debating optimal item builds per class.
"Steel Branch..."
A solid mid-to-late game item for warriors. He barely remembered the details beyond its stellar health regen, but that wasn't why it stuck with him.
Steel Branch? That mass-produced artifact the ancient dwarves cranked out when they tried replicating the World Tree's blessing?
Orishin's words yanked Kriel back to memories from the Western Front. He'd scoured ruins solo on missions, hoping for surviving relics. Other knights wearing Steel Branches had made him jealous. Luck like that never came his way.
But the real reason Kriel remembered it wasn't envy of other knights.
It was what they were saying.
"Yeah. And it was one of the heroes' items too."
Huh?
"Oh, I've heard that too. One of the three heroes who felled Balor—the warrior—wore a tree-shaped pendant forged of steel. And it was mass-produced?"
The ancient dwarves could mass-produce it! They can't anymore. Unless the Mountain Kingdom's eternal flame still burns...
Kriel probed the faint power. The original regen acceleration was there, clear as day. But mingled with it was the abyss's reek.
Like they'd ripped out the mana circuits granting regen acceleration and grafted in identical ones powered by the abyss.
"They corrupted the artifact with the abyss."
"...A grim piece. You taking it?"
Kriel shook his head and flicked the steel ornament away with his finger. Magyar caught it easily.
"Isn't this decisive proof of your father's abyss corruption? It'll be your ace in the hole for claiming the trading house."
"Well, I guess... Wait, no—I don't even want the trading house!?"
"Hand it to your brother or sister then. Better in your hands than mine anyway."
Kriel shrugged and added, "But it'll end up yours regardless."
"Why think that?"
"Jaren and Arshika attacking you as a parricide is a given. You'll naturally submit it as evidence to fend them off. Once you weather that, most of House Gabi will be on your side."
"Huh?"
Magyar, dazed at the logic, was led to the study by the mage guards as he shouted back.
"Thanks! I'll send the reward soon—just wait! Let's talk over dinner!"
He tossed something as he went: a gold coin. Not copper or silver—straight gold. Quite the big spender.
Kriel smirked. "The reward's plenty already."
"That's just the advance! Performance bonus separate!"
In the darkness, the demonkin rose.
He frowned instinctively. "Again?"
He wasn't meant to be here originally. Rather than scheming from the shadows like Satranyak, his role was picking fights where needed.
Grikenkos's fang, Jearpaluk, had stepped out of character to handle communion with the demon for a simple reason.
The original priest, Satranyak, had croaked in some backwater of the Holy Kingdom.
Jearpaluk was only filling in until a new demonkin emerged. But in that brief interim, Grikenkos's influence had suffered bizarre misfortunes.
Satranyak's sudden death was just the start.
He'd sent beasts to trace the Seven Great Demonic Weapons, but the werewolves got confused and gave up. Gratuon splitting in two? Jearpaluk chalked it up to the Holy Kingdom's loathsome priests inventing new seals.
The Seven Great Demonic Weapons always broke free eventually, so he sighed it off as a sunk cost.
Next, the wyrm at the gateway city's draft office. The fool had boasted he'd devour the city using his siblings. Decent at tormenting humans—Jearpaluk figured harvesting his heart might elevate him to demonkin. One morning, connection severed; body hacked to pieces.
Then Tushkin Gabi. He'd nurtured his demonic nature since the Demon King War. Not deeply rooted in the abyss, but uniquely wielding perfectly legal imperial authority. A rare talent.
Waiting for the routine report, the demon decreed: 'His fate is severed.' That made three.
Not mere abyss novices at monster level, but key pawns in Grikenkos's plans.
What the hell? What's going on?
Jearpaluk swallowed a sigh. Someone sought an audience with Grikenkos's apostle now.
The very one who'd corrupted a hero's legacy.