Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World

27 - The Audacity!

Author's Note:

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Ethan slammed the sealed letter down on the table, rattling the inkwell and sending a stray feather skittering across the parchment. A satisfied smirk stretched across his face as he tossed a hefty pouch of coins onto a pile already overflowing with similar ones. Hector's shipment was dealt with.

The soap business was practically booming.

Though, yes, I need to get these pouches transferred instead of letting them sit here...

Shaking his head, Ethan grabbed the letter with his hand, lifting it closer as he opened it to examine it in more detail.

It read just like any other letter with a lot of jargon and beating around the bush. Ethan practically skimmed through it all and stopped when he reached the point of interest. It was then that a scoff escaped his lips as he re-read a passage from the letter twice.

"Outrageous," he muttered, shaking his head.

Apparently, word of his success had reached Westford, and the Baron, Ashton, wasn't shy about expressing his 'desire' to secure a "consistent and exclusive supply" of Ethan's "cleansing concoction."

How the tables had turned.

Ashton had denied him back then, and now he'd come crawling back.

The terms, however, were practically demands—an exorbitant price per bar and a hefty cut for the Baron himself.

"Seems someone doesn't understand the value of soap. Oh well, you'll be crawling to me once the damn Night Whispers start infecting your people with the Blight again—"

He stopped himself mid-sentence as a frown creased his brow. What had gotten into him? Blackmail? And now, this? When had he become this... this... conniving? It felt wrong.

Unease settled in his stomach—

Anyway.

—So he focused on something else instead. He read the letter completely, accompanied by his thoughts that he ignored. A sound from the window drew his attention and he blinked. A black feathered raven, indistinguishable from its kin, save for the hue of green emanating from it. A glow he could recognize because Jack let his summons emanate their mana whenever they came to him so that Ethan could easily recognize them. Jack would never, however, do it with anyone else. Maybe Thomas, now that I think about it. Given that he's Jack's boss.

The raven tapped its sharp beak against the windowpane, the insistent rapping cutting through Ethan's contemplation. He sighed, setting the letter down and pushing himself away from the table.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, stalking towards the window and throwing it open.

The raven hopped inside, its beady black eyes gleaming with what Ethan could only assume to be intelligence. He held out a hand, and the raven hopped onto it.

"Took you long enough," said Ethan, gently stroking the raven's feathers.

The bird cawed in response.

He carefully removed a small, rolled-up parchment tied to the raven's leg and unfurled it. It was sealed with a wax imprint bearing the crest of a rearing silver stag—the sigil of House Argent, which was an old family that'd been ruling Argent for centuries.