Chapter 296: Reliquary (2/2)
[Well, the second bit won't really help us, but I guess the first part can come in handy. I'm getting the impression that relics are like magic items that have some kind of usage requirement. That, or they are just related to certain gods or something.]
He moved over to the last chest and listened as the Pontifex explained. ”The Belt of Bertilak. This strange relic is said to have originated in another realm entirely, where it once belonged to a knight of great virtue and renown. While its full power remains shrouded in mystery, it is believed to protect worthy bearers from harm, even sparing them from certain death. The legendary knight Foltest supposedly wore it while he challenged the Beast of Galor. With its magic, he withstood the creature's acidic breath on three separate occasions, allowing him to deliver the finishing blow before he succumbed to his other injuries.”
Mike stared at the length of green silk, and used Appraise with an odd sense of déjà vu.
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The Belt of Bertilak
Magic Relic (Tier ?, Rank ?)
Non-System Object.
Details not found.
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[What the…]
As he was considering the implications of what he'd seen, he realized that the group of Aminatrean clergy had fallen silent and were staring at him expectantly.
”Ahem,” He cleared his throat before speaking. ”On behalf of our leader, I thank you for the generous gifts. It is my hope, and his, that this day will mark the beginning of a long and prosperous friendship between us.”
That statement caused a bit of confused muttering from the onlookers, but he could tell that his intended message had been delivered, judging by the slightly sour expression on the Pontifex's face. Nevertheless, she offered a slight bow in response. ”Our order graciously accepts the offer of friendship. May the Lightbringer always illuminate your path.”
[Now, they'll think twice about trying to portray this as anything other than me doing them a favor.] He thought to himself while returning the bow.
With that, the Pontifex turned and led her entourage back into the cathedral. The acolytes stuck around long enough to reclaim the ornate chests, once he'd pocketed the relics. In short order, he was once again left alone with the subdued entrance guards, who weren't really sure what to do about him.
Deciding to spare the hapless newbies any further difficulties, Mike turned and made his way through the small crowd that had gathered to watch the event. The onlookers parted in front of him with a sort of awestruck silence, making his egress fairly simple. Once he was in the clear, he ducked back into the alley, made sure the coast was clear, and activated his stealth skill before stepping out again.
He walked several streets over before he ditched his disguise and started flying. There was one last place he wanted to visit today before he headed back. It was something he'd been intentionally been putting off until all his other business had been concluded.
As he was traveling in the direction of the slums, he pulled out the length of green silk, which was supposedly some kind of belt, and examined it. His fingers tingled a bit as he touched the smooth material, which might have been an indication of its magical properties, or static electricity. It was hard to tell for sure.
[Bertilak…where have I heard that name before? Since its from outside of the System, it must have come from another world. Could it be something from Earth?]
He decided to put it aside for now. There would be time to experiment with it in the future, but he needed to focus on the upcoming meeting.
Hopefully, his friend was in a good mood.
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”Why is it that you all are able to organize the equivalent of a fully functional sporting league, complete with judges, rankings, audience participation, and systematic gambling, based around a form of ritual combat with a laundry list of rules, but can't give me a rough idea of how many people we actually have?” Brenden asked with exasperation.
He was trying to get a solid idea of the full scope of the operations he'd taken control of, and had tasked the various gangs to report on their numbers and enterprises. While it wasn't exactly a popular initiative, since many of them found the idea of sharing intimate details of how they ran things reprehensible, he pushed it through anyway, hoping to identify areas that needed improvement.
Of course, he'd almost immediately hit a snag when it came out that most of the gangs didn't maintain any kind of reliable records of their business practices or membership. While he could kind of understand not wanting to have the details of their illegal activities in writing, they also didn't really have any other methods in place. As a result, they'd been working for close to three days on getting an estimate of their overall membership, and very little progress had been made.
”Well, You Highness, this isn't exactly a simple matter-” Fang started to explain before he was cut off by the leader of the Hanged Gulls, a mid-sized gang that operated in northeastern Almirn and dealt primarily with overland smuggling.
”That's right! Do you have any idea how many crews I got running right now? Cause I don't. That's something for the sub-bosses to figure out, and I can guarantee that they haven't got a clue about how many people actually work for them. That's more of a matter for crew leaders. Which doesn't even include the trainees, who are the responsibility of the assistant crew leaders…”
”Look,” Brenden interrupted, taking the opportunity to address the rest of the group, who likely had similar stories to tell. ”I understand your organizations are complex, secretive and, operate independently a lot of the time. We are criminals after all, and that's just part of our business, but you should be able to give me some kind of idea of how many people actually work for you. If we ever want to be anything more than a two-bit crime syndicate, operating out of a moldy basement, we need to start doing things differently. So, get me a number. It doesn't have to be exact.”
There was a little more grumbling about the impossibility of the task, but none of them had the courage to outright refuse his command. Despite their initial enthusiasm for his rule, most of the gangs were not used to taking orders, and there had been something of a learning curve when he first started making changes.
[They'll get over it.] He thought to himself as he dismissed the council and sent them on their way. He also told his guards and followers to wait outside for a few minutes, because he needed some time to clear his head The constant stream of problems he'd been dealing with over the last few days, coupled with the reticence of his followers to fulfill even a simple request, was starting to give him a headache.
”Rough day?” A familiar voice asked from nearby. It might have surprised Brenden if he hadn't caught a whiff of the intruder's scent a few seconds earlier.
He gave Mike a tired look, ”More like a rough week.”