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Chapter 273: A Successful Day
🕑 Added 2025-11-05 01:19:20 +0000 UTCChapter 273: A Successful Day
The noodles were delicious.
That is an absolute truth that Mercury could not and would not deny. He hummed severely at the two bowls in front of him, thinking on which was better, because they had been so different.
Both were rich and delicious, but one had mixed in bits of not-quite-lemon zest, as well as softened fruits, giving it a tangy flavour, lightening it somewhat. The other had gone a different way entirely, adding more salt and something not quite like soy, but it was hearty and more filling.
Despite that, he had to take a deep breath, and pointed at the fruity bowl. “This one’s better,” he decreed with absolute confidence. “It may not be as traditional, but it is more creative. Bold, even. And I can appreciate that.”
Zyl readily agreed with him, and while Jean and Brock preferred the simple richness, Lucky, too, picked fruitiness. Min abstained, saying he could not decide. Instantly, the other innkeep, slammed his fists on the table. “Damn you!” he cried with the fury of a thousand suns. “I will never forget this. Just you wait! I will improve my soup a thousand times over, until you are begging to study under me!”
The other innkeep, the one Mercury and co. would be staying with, simply sneered at that, crossing his arms. “You could not match me in a thousand years.”
For a little while longer, the two bickered, and Mercury leaned over to Jean, whispering. “Are they always like this?”
Blinking slightly, the bandit nodded. “People take their craft very seriously.”
Mercury could respect that, he supposed. But after about ten minutes of back and forth, he very gently rasped his knuckles on the table. “My apologies, good sirs,” he said quietly, yet still they listened. “I’d like to ask whether we could retire for the night. We have travelled far.”
Instantly, their attention landed on him, and the winning innkeep gave a bright smile. “Of course, esteemed visitor,” he said with an obvious customer-service kind of voice. “You can call me young Puos.”
Distinctly, Mercury noted that it was just soup backwards. He did not say this out loud, however, and simply nodded. “Right, young Pous. Please, would you show me to a room? Preferably one without windows - I have a habit of sleeping in.”
“Why yes, right away! Follow me, please!!”
Not long later, everyone was housed, and they’d agreed to meet the next afternoon. Mercury didn’t want to go out too early, so he’d slowly transition them to a nighttime schedule. Afternoon should still be fine though.
With a long sigh, Mercury sprawled out on the bed. He’d gotten a basement room - not the fanciest, which had bothered young Puos. But the lack of windows was more important to Mercury than having a softer bed. He simply enjoyed the feeling of the mattress for a little while.
Zyl gave him a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “So? How would you rate your first day, love?” he asked.
“Exhausting,” Mercury said with a snicker. “People here are intense. I thought someone might get killed over the soup debate.”
“Let’s hope they’re more pleasant about other things, hm?” Zyl said. He gave a warm smile, tracing his thumb across Mercury’s cheek. “Hopefully, tomorrow we can get our bandits signed up to some work. And then, some info on where to find the Skyflame Monks.”
Smiling, Mercury took Zyl’s hand into his own, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah. Tomorrow. For now… Let’s get some rest.”
Of course, Mercury didn’t need to sleep. So his definition of rest may have been a bit skewed. Most of the night was spent manipulating his mana, practicing. Because he was one hardworking cat, after all.
[<Ice Magic> has levelled up. <Ice Magic lv. 6 -> 7>]
- - -
The next day came, and when the sun began to lower in the afternoon, there was a knock on Mercury’s door. “Esteemed cultivators,” Puos called from the other side. “Your agreed on meeting time is here.”
His voice was gentle, but slightly shaky. He’d heard that Mercury was a ‘cultivator’, then. Which clearly changed his assessment. A soft, somewhat sad smile settled on Mercury’s face. “We’ll be right out,” he called gently, giving Zyl time to freshen up fully. The dragon had brought along a mobile herbalism bed, and was tending to the plants, so he’d want to wash off any dirt before they headed out.
And so they did. A few minutes later, they were upstairs. Jean and her bandits looked decidedly uncomfortable in the inn, while Min had apparently managed to set up a small stall nearby. Mercury knew because with <Greater Perception>, he could hear the merchant hawking his wares.
It was busy in the inn, but Mercury bore it with a smile, walking over to the rest of his companions, sitting on a bench, and quickly pulling out his parasol to hide in its shade from the ever-angrier light of the sun. “I really need to get myself a hat,” he noted distantly, then looked at the bandits, who shuffled a little under his gaze. “So,” he started. “Jobs.”
Lucky instantly sighed, as if he were dying. His ponytail draped over the table as he dropped his face. “Dun wanna.”
Mercury looked at him and snickered. “It’s easy money. What, you didn’t like sleeping on a soft bed?”
“I did….”
“And eating good food?” Mercury asked again.
Lucky smacked the table softly. “I did, damn you.”
“So then, get a job, dummy,” Mercury snickered. Already, they ere getting odd looks - because they were an odd group. Bandits in tattered clothes, Zyl in his immaculate suit, and him, wearing a parasol inside.
“Fine,” the bandit said, though he did not sound particularly excited by the notion.
“Did you never have a job, Lucky?” Mercury asked, tilting his head.
Bristling, the bandit pursed his lips. “What’s it to you, esteemed sir?” he said the words as if mocking, and Jean flinched a little, rapping him over the back of the head.
“Keep it together,” she snarled. “Or I’ll kill you before he does.”
Mercury raised his hands at that. “Peace, peace,” he said gently. “No harm. I vouched for you, remember? I want your lives to be on track, for you to live without hurting anyone.”
At that, both of them averted their eyes with small clicks of their tongues. Brock, meanwhile, gave a smile and a nod. “Aye.”
Just then, Min rushed inside, rapidly approaching Mercury. “Ah, esteemed sav- Mercury!” he called excitedly, moving to drape his arm around Mercury’s shoulder, who elegantly leaned out of the way. The merchant stumbled, but recovered quickly. “I have spoken of your skills to those who asked, and we have actually received a few orders! For herbs and for metalwork.”
Snickering faintly, Mercury rolled his eyes. “You sure are industrial. Alright, point the way, Min,” he said, rising from his seat and heading outside, where a small crowd was gathered.
“Is this your miracleworker, Min?!” an old lady wearing purple robes and wielding a wooden roller asked, threateningly smacking her palm with it. “He better fix up my pans well, or I’ll skin your hide.”
At that, the merchant began sweating, doing his best to project a confident smile. “Why, of course! There’ll be no trouble, I promise.”
Mercury raised an eyebrow, then sighed, and held out his hand. He received two pieces of a pan that had cracked clean down the middle, a cast-iron wok with worn wooden handles whose metal had cracked eventually. With a gentle motion, Mercury brushed the dust off the ground and sat down.
“If you get even a drop of grime onto my pans I will have you-”
With another wave, Mercury interrupted the old lady, as his log fell down in front of him. It was clean, covered in half-baked runes from early into his career, with spots where it had rotted from the moss before he made it his home. But it was still his. “No worries, ma’am. I will be sure to take good care of your cookware. One moment,” he said kindly, then placed an arm inside the log.
A single trigger of <Itinerant> later, he was gone, leaving the witnesses gobsmacked.
Inside the dimensional space, where his Skill had carried him, there was his smithy. Little pandora. A forge that he swiftly lit, stoking the coals inside, the heat of the flame bubbling forth at his request. It licked at the metal, though it left the wood of the handles well alone. Mercury asked it to, after all, and he understood <Fire>.
It took only a minute until the iron glowed from heat, and then he pressed the two pieces together. They weren’t quite a perfect fit, having gotten dinged up. The metal was also seasoned, which he didn’t particularly want to damage. There was a point to cookware being used, after all.
So, when things didn’t fit, he took a scrap piece of iron, requesting it to mold itself into the missing pieces, but spread at the bottom. The cooking surface would stay intact, and only the part that touched the fire would be new metal, mixed in with the rest.
Swiftly, it liquified and obeyed - though, of course, that messed with the grain of the metal. Which meant that Mercury still had to hammer and forge the thing together with his will. That, too, was finnicky, because of the shape. He didn’t want to mess up the layers, so it was a delicate application of his rijns that kept everything working.
Still, after a few minutes, he had it done. The task was finished. Another step carried him back outside of his log, where he gently pressed the wok into the woman’s hands. Her protests at his disappearance, and threats to his skin died in her throat as she held the cooking instrument.
“It’s whole,” she said, stunned. “How? It… it shattered. The missing pieces, they-”
Mercury nodded and smiled softly. “I tried to preserve as much of the cooking surface as I could, though I made sure the thickness was suitable by adding some scraps to the bottom, integrating them properly. It shouldn’t shatter again, hopefully.”
“You kept the handles,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” Mercury nodded. “They are in fine shape. No rot. It could use a new finish, I suppose. I do have some wax with me,” he suggested, but she shook her hand.
“My grandfather made them,” the woman explained. “I am… glad to keep them. I was afraid when you just disappeared. I see now that Min wasn’t lying about you,” she said, and her lips curled into a smile, pulling at the well-worn frown-lines in her face.
“I was asked to repair something,” the mopaaw said. “Not replace. If you simply wanted a wok, you’d have gotten a new one. But that is not what you did,” he shook his head. “So, I repaired it.”
At that, the crowd got louder, and even as the old woman walked off with a smile after paying, more people pressed in. Zyl seemed to be experiencing a similar story, taking a look at people’s plants, or painting them, drawing quick sketches or more elaborate things.
Then, from the edge of his vision, Mercury saw movement. The guard with the long ponytail, slinking away into the afternoon shadows, as Mercury sat on the ground. He looked at her warily for a few moments, then decided to simply move on. Some monitoring was expected when they were cultivators in a new city, after all.
Instead, he simply did his job.
- - -
A few hours later, he’d earned a bit of spending money, and rose from his seat. “Now, now,” he said. “This will be it for tonight. We might be back tomorrow, so meet us then, perhaps.” He turned to Min. “If you’d be so kind, I’d like to see about finding somewhere for our companions, now.”
Instantly, the merchant nodded. “Of course, esteemed cultivator!” he said excitedly. “Everyone, clear out! We’re closed for the night!”
He didn’t even budge at their groans, and began to shoo the people around them away until they disappeared. One by one, they all cleared out, carrying their prizes with them, as well as the pieces they didn’t get to get repaired. Some dropped them off and cash quickly swapped hands, but overall, it was a swift affair.
Just five minutes later, Mercury was walking through the streets with the bandits in tow, Zyl still by his side. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows, its light dimming against the horizon, and Mercury’s skin was beginning to feel less strained by it all. Which was rather nice.
“Do you know any construction agencies, Min?” he asked.
“Of course, esteemed cultivator!” he said swiftly. “There are several in Fuchsia City, but I believe the Ordenson’s company might suit you best. They-”
Mercury cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I trust your judgment on this, Min. Lead us there,” he said with a calm voice. In fact, despite what he said, he was already browsing the stands to the sides. The city seemed to come alive in the evening as well as it did in the morning, the bustle never stopping.
Fuchsia City wasn’t a huge place, and yet, it was full of life. Stands stacked next to each other, selling fruits and hats and masks. It was pretty, even if a little noisy. Mercury allowed himself to soak it in, to browse the stands of woven baskets and reed hats, to take long looks at the fruit, and to watch the people.
Laughing, yelling, drinking, pushing. There were stands selling wine of all kinds, tiny food stores with people who’d been working them for forever. It was a lively place, with kids running around and playing, parents yelling at their teenagers to put more effort into the work if they wanted to take over the family business, and more silliness.
And then, Mercury stopped.
“Ah, a mask?” Min asked curiously, instantly darting over to Mercury, glancing over his shoulder. “Always a wise choice, ser. Cultivators may need to hide their faces. Of course, these are not resistant against another’s magical senses, so some obscurement technique will still be necessary-”
“That’s alright,” Mercury said calmly. He’d spotted masks he rather liked. Simple ones, teardrop shaped, that covered the whole face. They carried minor enchantments that allowed them to stick to the faces of their users, which was nice, and made them more comfortable.
He looked over the runes, the magic woven into them, and the woman peddling at the stall gave him a knowing smile. “Ah, a cultivator,” she croaked. One of her eyes was covered in a scar, and the other one was a piercing blue, staring him down. Her voice was too raspy for her raven hair.
“So what if I am?” Mercury asked with a smile, tilting his head.
“Why, it means you can appreciate good craftsmanship!” the woman cackled. “Here, try one on. Pick whichever suits you. I painted them myself.”
“Nice brushwork,” Zyl complimented, tracing the paint of one of the masks. It was simple in coloration, black paint on pale wood, but it was nice. The edges were light since the paint soaked into the grain, but the motifs were still clear. Branches of trees and leaves, or swirling patterns of water.
Mercury gently picked one that had only half of it painted. The wood was almost silvery, and black lines reached along one edge like grasping fingers, reaching around the eyehold as if holding it closed. “This one,” he said.
“And that,” Zyl added, picking one for himself, with a motif of flames vividly reaching to consume the mask.
The woman smiled at that. “For you, dear sirs? Simply a pale.”
“What?!” Min demanded noisily. “That is an outrageous price for masks. You are a fraud and a scammer. You should be ashamed, if I were your father I-”
“Done,” Mercury said, placing the coin down on her table with a soft clack. He and Zyl took their masks as the woman smiled with half her teeth and gave them a soft bow.
“Thank you for your patronage,” she said quietly.
Mercury nodded, put the mask aside, then turned. “Thank you as well,” he said, then continued walking. Stuttering and sputtering, Min moved to catch up, sweating faintly. He turned once more, to see the woman’s single good eye lingering on him, but when she cackled and blew him a kiss, he turned away again, flustered.
“Why did you pay such an outrageous price?!” he asked.
Zyl simply smiled, still looking at the piece of wood, his fingers tracing the flames. “Good craftsmanship deserves fair pay,” he said gently. “And this is good. The paint is handmade. It is also the finish for the wood.”
“There’s a second protective layer, Mercury added. “The paint, after all, is also an enchantment. It hides runes carved into the wood itself, but even then, within the art, there are more enchantments hidden. I’ve never quite seen something like it.” He said softly, staring at the art.
That silenced Min, and he swallowed heavily, looking behind him again. But the woman, and her stall, were gone. He sweated. “I- I see,” he said quietly.
Mercury smiled, and clapped the merchant on the back. “Do not worry, friend Min. The woman won’t make you any trouble.”
“Though we might have saved you again,” Zyl noted. Min swallowed at the debt he owed yet again, but when he looked at the man’s face, all he saw was mischief glinting in those fiery eyes. They were making fun of him.
Min grit his teeth for a moment, then forced himself to sigh and let the tension grow. “There truly are experts everywhere,” he said quietly.
“There are,” Mercury said happily. “How wonderful.”
- - -
Only one more encounter of a similar kind followed when Mercury bought himself a hat. It was a hand-woven straw hat, with a veil sewn into it. A long, silvery piece of fabric that spilled across his shoulders, reaching down to the middle of his chest when he wore it, reaching all the way around the hat.
It made him look even more mysterious than he already did, with his swirling robe of almost cloud-like materials, and the hanging parasol. Mercury looked every bit like a mysterious stranger. He kept wearing it all until they reached the company. Ordenson’s, Min had called it.
Mercury gently knocked at the door, then pushed it open a few seconds later, entering into… a dingy bar?
There was a man with a jackal’s head standing behind a counter, polishing glasses, smoking a cigar. He turned to face the newcomer, and scoffed. “Who’re you s’posed to be, pal?” he asked, staring at Mercury’s veil. “Fancy pants mcgee over here, eh?”
Looking at the dingy place, Mercury decided there was not much need to keep the veil. The tin bits of sunlight that drifted in through the thick windows were choked by the shadows in this place, so he quickly stored his hat and the parasol in his Raiment. Then, he smiled softly.
“I’m Mercury. Recently, I’ve made friends with some bandits who are… looking to change careers. They can manipulate stone,” he explained.
The bartender sneered. “We don’t take nae bandits ‘ere. If they’ve got bounties you can take ‘em somewhere else.” The rest of the patrons turned and stared, most of them humans, though many with some animalistic features. A pair of cat ears here, a tail there. Misfits, Mercury noted.
“Bounty’s paid off,” Mercury explained calmly, stepping into the dim room. Jean had to duck slightly to not hit her head on the doorframe, and the bartender actually eyed her with some surprise. Brock got similarly approving looks, though Lucky seemed less popular, given his scrawny frame.
The jackal tilted his head with curiosity. “What’s our guarantee here? We don’t do no business that’s unsafe.”
“Safety first!” the rest of the bar toasted to an uproarious laugh, toasting their drinks.
Jean swallowed drily, stepping forward to do something stupid. Instead, Mercury stepped up, and placed every coin he’d earned that day on the counter. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was a sizable sum. A couple pales, and a chunk of glooms and nights. “That,” he said calmly. “If they ruin something, I’ll fix it. If they fuck up, keep the cash. If you want gold, I can get that too.”
At that, the bartender turned serious, the mirth from his little joke washed away. “Ye’re serious about this,” he said, taking a puff of his cigar.
“Very,” Mercury nodded.
“Why?”
“People deserve second chances,” he said simply. “We get dealt shit lots. So we should get dealt lucky turns, too. I try to be a lucky turn.”
Once more, the jackal looked him up and down, staring at Mercury as if trying to scare him off. Then, his lips twisted into a grin. It looked scary, almost predatory, in the same way it did when Mercury smiled. But he could see it was genuine. “A’ight. We’re taking ‘em. Boys, girls, you got newbies on the job tomorrow. Show ‘em the ropes. You!” he turned to the ex-bandits, jabbing the cigar at them. “Be here tomorrow at sunrise! No later.”
Then, with a swift motion, he pushed the coin back at Mercury. “Keep it,” the Jackal hissed. “Pay us if there’s a fuckup, not beforehand. They get to prove themselves like anyone else. By workin’. Safety first!”
“Safety first!!” the bar cheered.
- - -
“That went remarkably well,” Zyl noted when they were back outside. It was a bit darker now, since Jean and the rest had taken a while to get used to the crews they’d be joining tomorrow. There was some ice to break, but things had gone surprisingly well afterwards.
“Yeah, I was expecting to get shot at least once,” Mercury noted. The whole place had that kinda mafia-feel to it. But then, they’d been remarkably nice about it. Honor among gangsters, or something?
Lucky took the longest to get them to warm up to him, but by the end, even he fit in like a glove. “Still can’t believe I’ll get a tattoo tomorrow,” he said, snickering, almost giddy at the idea. His good humor had won over the rest of the crew, and by the end they were smacking his back hard enough to knock the air out.
Min smiled thinly at it. He still remembered getting stabbed by the man, but despite that, the merchant seemed to have mostly forgiven them. That had a way of happening when one shared meals and travelled together.
Food had a habit of breaking up trouble like that. Honesty forged bonds. And, despite everything, Lucky had been mostly honest. Secretive and quiet about his past, but honest. And that was enough. Mercury smiled, then pressed two pales into the merchant’s hand. Min stared at the sum, then at the mopaaw.
“There’s-”
“You did good work, just take the dang money,” Mercury said.
“Yessir!” Min instantly agreed, pocketing the coins with shining eyes. It was unfortunate that his saviours had already seen through him, but then, he was a transparent man. He wanted money. Money to build himself up, to earn respect without needing to get his hands bloody.
In that way, this newest event had been a windfall for him. He’d gotten his life saved, and was now handed easy opportunities to make more money and gather some renown, simply by virtue of who he travelled with. He slept in good inns for low prices, he ate well, and with these people around, no one would try to dunk his head into his food.
Indeed, meeting his saviours had been a lucky turn for him. Maybe he should consider getting stabbed more often!
Saviour Zyl poked him in the side, and gently shook his head as Min winced from the pain that spread.
Perhaps… perhaps he shouldn’t get stabbed more often.
- - -
Pleased with himself, Mercury was looking forward to a calm day at the inn. The day had gone well. He’d solved some small problems, some bigger problems, he’d met some fun people, he had new enchantments to study, and he had a soft bed to look forward to. His new hat was comfortable, and the veil looked fucking awesome, if he was honest.
He was in genuinely, really rather good spirits. He smiled as he sat down at the inn, he smiled as the food was placed down on the table before him, and he smiled as he broke apart the pair of chopsticks and prepared to dig in.
Then, someone slammed a fist down on his table so hard that the wood cracked and his bowl jumped. “Innkeep!” a man roared. He was young, handsome in a pampered way, with fair skin and clean shaven, wearing lilac robes with ocean-blue trim. His dark hair was neatly tied back into a top-knot, and his undershirt was pristine. Piercing black eyes tore into Jean, Lucky and Brock. “You expect me to eat in the same place as this filth?!”
“Calm down, friend,” Mercury said gently, calmly. “We’re not looking for any trouble.”
“Not looking for trouble?” the young master sneered. Then, he grabbed one of the soup bowls, Lucky’s, and poured it over the balding man’s head. The noodles splattered to the floor, the broth soaking the man’s clothes, the table, the bench, and the floor. “Then how dare this filth breathe the same air as me. Kowtow to me thrice and clean this meal off the ground and I’ll forgive you!” he said, grinning smugly.
Min sunk into himself. Zyl sat calmly, clenching his fists. Lucky stared down at himself in shock. Jean flinched backwards from the scion, and Brock stared with furrowed brows.
And Mercury? Mercury fucking boiled.
