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  The next twenty minutes involved a lot of explaining, backtracking and trying to make the Dwarves look good in general. There were some topics that I had to avoid; like the fact that Doror was a Master Smith. Or the fact that the Dwarves would be left for dead on this island; not the other way around. But Zenom didn’t need to know any of that.

  The only thing he needed to know was that the Dwarves were master builders; be they weapons, armors or ships.

  Ships which we desperately needed.

  “...They trust me. I can bring them over. But they’ll have their own terms.” I finished with, “Whether those terms are reasonable or not, that’s up to you to decide.”

  “Not just me, Slaveborn.” Zenom shook his head. “Whatever terms these Dwarves proposes, it must align with the Church’s vision.”

  A stroke of frustration went through my heart. “We need them, Zenom.” I pointed to the tent’s flap, gesturing outside. “The ships are all but gone.”

  Zenom took in a big breath and sighed. “Yes. Yes, you are correct. This expedition requires the aid of these Dwarves.” He stared at the flap that I had pointed to. “You found them living in an underground village?”

  Here came the questioning. I’d spent enough time to know that Zenom wasn’t dumb. There was something fishy in this, and I knew that he wouldn’t come aboard with the plan unless I could allay his suspicions.

  “Yes.” At times like this, short answers were best. Rather than make an elaborate lie, I wanted to keep it short. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the best at social situations with pressure. Lying, being interrogated, tortured, etc. It was all fun and games (quite literally) on a screen. But not anymore.

  “Why didn’t you report this?”

  I shrugged. “They have nothing to do with this expedition.”

  “While that is true,” Zenom allowed, “Any valuable findings like this should have first been reported to the Expedition Leader. Namely, me. The call to whether to make contact with them or not should have been discussed with.” He sighed, “If they were hostile, you could have been captured. Tortured and forced to give information. And then we’d be facing an enemy who knew everything about us, while we knew little about them.”

  “I wouldn’t talk.” I said simply.

  Zenom raised an eyebrow at me. “Being a Slave and being tortured are two different things. You've never been tortured before.”

  My voice gained a harsh edge. “As I said, I wouldn’t talk.”

  Instead of meeting my hostility with one of his own, Zenom shook his head, dropping the matter. “That’s besides the point. I’m saying that you made a decision that was well above and beyond your own, without thoughts about the consequences if you made the wrong one. That is… unlike you. You are the type to be thorough in everything. Infuriatingly so.”

  I opened my mouth to talk and then closed it, repeating the motion a few times.

  He was right. In his head, it didn’t make sense that I made the decision like that. That was because he was missing crucial information.

  Doror Stonehammer, the Master Smith.

  If Zenom knew about Doror’s existence and identity…

  Forget the boats. Doror would be a national treasure. Just bringing Doror back alive to Turina in chains might make this disaster of a expedition worth it in the end.

  I had to keep Doror’s identity hidden no matter what.

  I shrugged. “I made a mistake. Won’t happen again.”

  That’s right. Keep it simple and honest.

  The look on Zenom’s face told me that he didn’t buy it. “I understand your concerns about growing stronger, Slaveborn. But I would appreciate it if you kept yourself from making any rash decisions like that in the future. You are becoming a valuable asset in this expedition; there are many eyes on you. You must conform yourself to the highest standard, lest others begin to follow in your roguish ways.”

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  Zenom’s tone was that of a superior officer talking to his junior, giving him advice and gently reprimanding him for a mistake he made. I could play long with that.

  “Understood.”

  Zenom leaned back, satisfied. “I understand, you are an adventurer first; a member of this expedition second. An adventurer’s first instincts are to monopolize whatever advantage they find.”

  “...Right.”

  Zenom peered at me. “Not many would have offered to bring the Dwarves here freely. Perhaps Borealis would have. But people like Arione or Delas… they would have wanted something in return. A price, for fixing this situation we’re in.”

  “The dwarves will have their demands, I imagine.” I said drly.

  “I’m not talking about that,” Zenom waved his hand dismissively, “The others would have demanded an advantage. A special favor of sorts. A reward. Perhaps rights to the first Core we find on the Island, or a stipend in the island.” Then he looked at me expectedly.

  …What was he saying?

  Was he giving me a hint that I should ask for something in return as well?

  Zenom sat there, just looking at me and waiting.

  Whether this was a gesture of goodwill or some kind of trap from Zenom, it didn’t matter. A reward from any religious organization in MSS was meaningful. Because they had something that you couldn’t get anywhere else.

  Holy Damage and Healing.

  Granted, both Holy Damage and Healing could be obtained from Cores. A lot of them had a catch, however. Cores with Holy damage belonged to monsters way beyond my current reach. It wasn’t just a Grade problem either, monsters of that type exhibited a special habitat. A majority of them existed only in Fractures –which, as you could guess, are difficult to both enter and complete.

  Healing from a Church was on another whole level. It was multitude times more powerful than any healing that a single Core could provide. You’d need to create a Core-mancer –an adventurer that was a hybrid between a Mage and an Adventurer– which specialized solely on healing to even rival the level of healing you could receive from a church. Through a unique combination of Cores, they could somewhat imitate the utility of a Mage.

  So what did I need at this very moment? More damage or Healing?

  Or could I ask for something else?

  No. I couldn’t think just for myself. My build was far from complete, but I had a route in mind. Hell, once we actually made it to the Free Trader’s League, I wouldn’t have to worry about healing at all.

  What I needed went beyond mere builds, Cores and Items.

  “I need an introduction.” I said finally.

  Zenom stared at me, a blank expression.

  He said slowly, “I fail to understand.”

  “Don’t play dumb, Zenom.” I said, “Once we get to the Trader’s League, every adventurer will be out there, trying to get there hands on Weapons, Armors and Cores. They’ll be emptying their pockets.”

  “Ah, I see.” Zenom nodded, “If you need a recommendation to which Auction you need to attend-”

  “No,” I interrupted him, “I want an introduction. Not recommendation, not information on which Auctions will take palce. I want an introduction to your Broker, the one who you’ll personally be using to get information on the current Wares being offered at the Trader’s League.”

  Zenom’s eyes went flat. “The Church keeps such information secret.”

  Of course. Anyone with ill-will could lash out at the Church by assassinating key figures. And this key figure in particular was someone who was not just well plugged in with the Church, but kept tabs on the Trader’s League. This person would be leagues ahead of what a Grade-6 adventurer could recruit on their own. The Church wouldn’t lower themselves to being in touch with just any information broker. They’d be the best of the best.

  What Cores were on sale and where. Who was the best Smith? Best Jeweler? The best mercenary who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut even when more Coin was offered? Which Auction would have what their Clients needed?

  “I want your introduction to your information broker.” I repeated.

  “We have other powerful artifacts-”

  “I don’t need anything else.” I said, “I’m introducing you to the dwarves. You introduce me to the Church’s information broker once we get to the Trader’s League.”

  Zenom clenched his fist, opening and closing it a few times. “I cannot promise anything. I have to take into account the safety of this Broker, as well as the fact that he might not want to work with you.”

  That was more than good enough for me. “All I ask is that you try.”

  The Holy Knight nodded, relaxing in his seat. “I see.”

  Most adventurers might have just asked for some charm or accessory. Those were useful too. But as someone who’s seen the endgame and explored every single quest and scenario MSS had to offer? I knew what held the most value in this world, and that was information.

  Zenom seemed to be debating something.

  “Has it not occurred to you that I might be lying?”

  “Lying?” I repeated.

  “That I might say one thing in front of you and do another? I might just never inform the Information Broker of your needs.”

  “Never.” I told him. I was tempted to add 'unlike myself' at the end.

  “Hmm.”

  I studied Zenom.

  When I first met him, he had been stoic. Hard-headed, disciplined; like iron made into a man. But over the ourse of this journey… he’d softened. The question itself wasn’t something that I could have imagined Zenom asking me in the past. Because the question had to do with my opinion of him; Zenom had just asked me ‘What do you think about me’. In a way, that’s an affirmation.

  And Zenom, the Holy Knight, the youngest Hero of the Turina Empire asking a former Slave, a rogue adventurer for affirmation about who he was?

  Never. It was unthinkable.

  But I knew that Zenom thought of me favorably. I think it first started with my use of [Aura]. To those in the church, my use of [Aura] was heretical –punishable by death. Leaving the moral implications of that aside, it was Turinan Law: Only Nobles and specially chosen Knights were allowed to wield Aura. As a rule, bastards were often not taught [Aura] until they proved themselves.

  To Zenom, Borealis and all other legitimate Nobles, I was a thorn in their side. Something to be eliminated.

  But Zenom had stopped treating me like a nuisance long ago. Since…

  ‘Since I began to prove myself.’ And it hadn’t taken long.

  There was meaning behind that. The fact that Zenom had begun to treat me differently. It reflected a shift in his mindset, and displayed deeper insight into who Zenom was as a person. That he valued merit and ability –not blindly just following the worth that Turinans put on people based on their race and social status.

  But what did that mean, exactly? What did they say about Zenom?

  The man in question interrupted my thoughts, “How fast can you get the Dwarves here?”

  “Tomorrow morning, if we set out tonight. Maybe by the evening if we’re attacked by monsters.” I answered.

  “You will require guards, I presume.”

  “Borealis’ party.” I said immediately and then hesitated before answering, “...And Arione’s. Those two.”

  “Not Delas?”

  I showed Zenom my teeth. “Aren’t they still injured? Heard they got cut up something nasty by the Chuu-in in a cave somewhere.”

  Zenom stared at me. “Yes… yes they did. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, I presume?”

  “Me? No.” I lied. A poor lie at best.

  Oh, the look on his face told me he definite knew it was a lie. But Zenom accepted it. He knew better than to get involved in the petty squabble between adventurers. As long as there was no one died, that is.

  I might not be the best at figuring out people in social situations. Figuring out the lines of acceptable behavior for expeditions between adventuring parties, however, I had more than 14 years of experience.

  “You can inform Borealis and Arione. You are dismissed.”

  I got up, making to leave. Thankfully, we had never discussed the particular logistics of who the Dwarves would be under.

  “Slaveborn?”

  I halted, turning to face him once more.

  “Although those Dwarves will answer to you, on paper, they will be answering to me.” He said, “Is that clear?”

  A non-negotiable.

  “That’s fine with me.”

  Well, that was the easy part.