Touch of Fate

Chapter 81: Facing the Serpent

Chapter 81: Facing the Serpent

"Ah.....well, its a honor to meet you....uh, sir?" As this was the first time he'd come face to face with nobility since coming to this world, Mike wasn't sure what title to use.

"Traditionally, you would use my full title, Count Graveston, prior to the start of conversation. Once I've acknowledged you, Your Grace is considered an acceptable appellation." The older man answered while leaning back in his chair.

"I see.....uh, Your Grace." He replied lamely, feeling out of his depth.

"I'm not big on formalities, so please feel free to address me in a manner you see as suitable. Now, first and foremost, I must offer you my sincere thanks. Your heroics saved my city from certain destruction." He paused as if seeking to read the young adventurer's reaction.

Mike waited, sensing there was more the Count wanted to say.

"Additionally, you have aided me in a much more personal matter. My prodigal son has returned to the family, in no small part due to your actions. Although, I'm sure it was not intentional, you nevertheless aided me a great deal. As such, you have earned my favor."

"I'm not sure what you are talking about, Your Grace. I don't recall doing anything like that."

"It seems my son is more recalcitrant than I anticipated. Nevertheless, you have aided me, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't offer you a sufficient reward."

The Count stood suddenly, and walked to a door that Mike had not even noticed before. Without any indications of what he wanted Mike to do, the noble exited the room.

Feeling slightly confused and out of his depth, Mike followed after, soon realizing that the door led into a long featureless hallway. Having never seen this portion of the Guild, he was already a little lost.

Maintaining a sedate pace, the Count resumed the conversation as if he hadn't just randomly walked out on the adventurer. "What is it you desire? I could grant you a noble title, and lands befitting that title. Or perhaps a bureaucratic position? This country has a great number of those. If monetary rewards are more to your liking, there are few fiefdoms with greater resources than my own. I could grant you enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

Mike consider his options. The proffered rewards were pretty attractive. He had some desire to try building his own power base. However, he suspected that the offers were a little too good to be true. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Count was testing him in some regard. It was starting to annoy him a little, since he'd never been particularly keen on these kinds of political games.

The Count passed through an unusual archway. As he did so, it briefly glowed with a soft blue light.

Interested, Mike used Appraise as he passed through himself.

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{Portal of Inviolability}

Magic Item (Tier 3, Rank 4)

Created as a means of defending sites of great importance, these archways serve as the first line of defense in many of the most heavy guarded locations in Ea. The provide two key functions. First, the portal will be sealed to all save those who have authorization from the owner of the item. Second, for those who are allowed entry, the portal performs a rudimentary Appraisal. Thus, determining the individual's relative power and the presence or absence of hostile intentions towards the owner of the item. Certain items and skills are able to deceive Portals of Inviolability.

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As Mike passed through the arch, it glowed a bright white, almost to the point of being painful.

[Is that a good thing or a bad thing?] He wondered

The Count didn't seem to react, and merely continued to lead him through several winding passages. They traveled in silence for a few minutes, until the Count suddenly stopped in front of a simple wooden door.

Without taking any other action, he asked, "Tell me, what do you want more than anything else right now?"

Mike hesitated, he had not been expecting this. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. Honestly, he was starting to get sick of this roundabout questioning. He decided to cut to the heart of the issue.

Looking the Count in the eyes, and dropping all pretense of formality, he replied, "I just want power. Power to walk my path in life without fearing my enemies. Power to defend myself and those close to me, no matter what may come. Power enough to not be at the beck and call of any passing noble who wishes to drag me around for long periods of time without any real explanation."

Count Graveston studied the youth in front of him for a moment, as if conflicted by some inner turmoil. However, almost as soon as it appeared, the uncertainty faded back into the noble's cold mask.

"There are many forms of power. Some can be relied upon, and others are more...fickle. I believe that you are more interested in the former. Is that correct?"

Mike blinked, surprised that the Count was humoring his outburst. He nodded his agreement.

Pushing open the door in front of him, the Count led him into the room beyond it.

Mike found himself in an office that reminded him a great deal of the boardrooms found in major corporations in his old world.

The floor, walls, and ceiling were all laid with a dark grey stone that had been leveled and polished with nearly machine-like efficiency. Utilitarian chairs surrounded a rectangular table seemingly carved from a massive black crystal. In the far end of the room, a massive desk made of the same material sat in front of a long stretch of window. Judging from the view, they were now near the center of the city, several blocks away from the Guild.

The entire ensemble seemed like it would be more at home in the office of a corporate movie villain than a noble from a fantasy world.

"Where are we?" Mike asked trying to figure out the mechanics of their arrival. They had seemingly traveled from ground level to several floors above it, without taking any stairs. He could only guess it had something to do with the archway from earlier.

The Count walked around the desk and took a seat in a black leather chair. "This is my office at City Hall. From here I inform the City Council how they will manage their affairs."

While Mike was still mulling over the dark implications in that statement, the Count opened a drawer and removed a sealed letter.

"This is a letter of recommendation to the University of Almirn, the preeminent center of learning on the Central Continent. There, you can acquire one of the most reliable forms of power, knowledge. Lest you think me a miser, I will also cover the costs of both your tuition and boarding, and provide a hefty stipend so that you might live in relative comfort for the duration of your studies."

"What resources does this University provide? What would I be learning there?"

The Count answered while sliding the letter into Mike's reach. "The University covers a wide variety of topics ranging from the natural sciences, to statecraft, to the military arts. They even host a well-known branch office of the Mage's Guild, which teaches promising students about magic. For the more academically inclined, the University also boasts one of the most comprehensive libraries in the known world, with works on virtually every topic conceivable."

He left this last bit hanging in the air, obviously aware of how attractive it must be to the youth.

Mike had explored much of the city in his time there, and while there had been plenty of stores that sold books, few had been works of much substance. The majority were composed of simplistic histories of famous individuals or events, fictional novels, and minor self-help works focused on daily life. While interesting, they did little to inform him about the world at large. What books that seemed capable of providing some decent information were prohibitively expensive.

For a culture that was so progressive in so many areas, it was a little strange to see the publishing industry this stunted. He had begun to wonder if it might not be some kind of conspiracy to keep the populace uninformed.

It suddenly occurred to him, standing in this bleak office, that a conspiracy might not be too far-fetched. After all, in a world where people could get stronger simply through practice, the knowledge of the best techniques and practices could easily command high prices.

Considering the number of skills Mike had acquired only after adjusting his thinking patterns, he could easily imagine that the idea behind certain skills was almost as important as a person's class when it came to learning them. Once viewed through the lens of economics it made sense that knowledge, especially when it came to skills, took on an even greater importance in this world than in his old one.

It made sense that the wealthy and powerful would monopolize real knowledge. He would not be surprised if admittance to the University was normally barred to the general populace. Although he had a few ideas of how to work around that kind of limitation, he had a sneaking suspicion that the Count's recommendation would be his best option for admission.

He reached for the letter, but hesitated. "What is the catch?"

The Count raised an eyebrow at that. "The....catch?"

"What do you get out of this? I fail to believe a schemer as well-known as the Serpent of Almir would be willing to stake his name on an unknown like me, without some sort of ulterior motive. So what is the catch?"

The Count favored Mike with a slight smile, the first he'd shown since the beginning of the meeting. "You have potential...The catch, as you put it, is quite simple. Any youth capable of besting several high ranking demons, a full squad of the Cabal's chosen, a Tier 3 caster, and the manifestation of a demon prince, weakened though it might be, will one day accomplish great things. Especially, if you were honest about your ambitions for power."

Turning his chair to face the window, and simultaneously displaying that his chair was capable of such a thing, the Count continued with his back to Mike. "If you are to reach such heights, would it not be best to build cordial relations with you from the beginning?"

"I suppose...but are you not worried about revealing your intentions to me in this manner?"

"Ah, but that is merely one part of the puzzle, is it not?"

Thinking about it deeply, and drawing from his memories of political dramas from is old world, Mike began to get a picture of what the Count was after.

"By sponsoring my entry into the University, whatever accomplishments I achieve will reflect well on you. If I am as impressive as you suggest, then you will likely earn a great deal of prestige for a relatively minor investment."

The Count didn't respond, but Mike felt he was giving that cold smile again.

"However, should I fail, or worse, commit some taboo, then it would harm your reputation.....I didn't take you for a gambler, Your Grace."

The chair spun about again, "Everything in life is a gamble. What matters is how you balance the odds. Besides, I was speaking truthfully about being grateful to you. Repaying a benefactor, no matter how unintentional he might be, is something I take pride in."

The Count took out a set of documents, and began reviewing them, "Now if you don't mind I have a meeting scheduled in a few minutes, and I would appreciate some time to prepare for it. If you exit through the main door and take a right, it will lead you down to the lobby."

Mike noticed that the Count didn't even bother to confirm whether or not he'd accepted the letter. With mixed feelings he scooped up the heavy envelope, and walked to the door. As he tried to leave the office, he almost collided with a brunette woman.

He caught a quick glimpse of pale skin, and deep brown eyes before the woman had swept passed him into the Count's office, slamming the door behind her.

[That was a little rude.] Mike thought to himself, before begging the process of trying to navigate out of the building. He realized the passage he found himself in was different from the one he been in previously.

Unfortunately, it was still fairly maze-like and so he spent nearly a half-hour wandering around the deserted halls before he finally found someone to point him in the direction of the exit.