When Zeke stepped out of the headquarters, the sun was already sinking below the horizon.
He did not leave after his evaluation, choosing to converse with the many onlookers who had crowded around the area. After all, these weren't ordinary people—anyone daring enough to challenge the rankings had to be remarkable in some way and so were the powers fostering such exceptional talents.
Normally, meeting such individuals would require effort and persistence. But after his performance, those obstacles vanished. Nearly everyone came to congratulate him, eager to make his acquaintance.
Zeke naturally wouldn't turn them away in that situation.
Whether it was a farm owner from Rukia, a slave trader from Korrovan, or a merchant from Tradespire, he made a point to exchange a few words with each. After all, one could never know too many people, and who could say when these connections might prove useful?
By the end of the afternoon, the day's events left him both energized and drained. He felt a surge of pride, thinking about all he'd accomplished in one day—joining the portal network, breaking two records, and forging ties with some of the continent's elite. Yet, the endless smiles and nods had also stiffened his face, and his energy was spent. Though he had been trained to navigate noble circles, Zeke had never found any real enjoyment in such tedious interactions.
Thankfully, that was all behind him now. All he needed to do was head home and prepare for his journey to the dwarven capital tomorrow. With any luck, the commotion over his recent achievements would have died down by the time he returned in a few weeks.
The streets, fortunately, were the same as always, and no one paid him any special notice. It seemed news of his exploits hadn't yet reached the general populace. Relieved, Zeke quickened his pace and disappeared into the crowd, heading toward his estate, where he would be safe from prying eyes and unwanted attention.
Zeke let out a deep breath as the heavy gate clanged shut behind him. Home at last—surely, there was nothing left to worry about now.
But his relief was short-lived. Just as he stepped onto the cobbled path leading to the mansion, a figure burst out of the house, racing toward him. It only took a moment for him to recognize her—it was his little sister, Maya.
The blonde girl raced down the incline, her wide smile lighting up the evening. Zeke couldn't help but mirror her expression, his face shedding the polite mask he'd worn all afternoon. As they closed the distance, Maya leaped into his arms, and Zeke caught her in a spinning embrace, her melodic giggles filling the air.
"What's got you so excited?" he asked, setting her gently back on her feet.
"What did you do this time?" she asked, skipping past his question entirely.
"What makes you think I've done anything?" he replied, keeping his tone neutral and his face unreadable.
Maya pouted, her expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. Even so, Zeke held firm, meeting her gaze with a silence that pressed her to give up the source of her knowledge.
"Fiiiiiine," she relented with a dramatic sigh. "The estate was swamped with messengers all afternoon. Many even demanded to see you personally. And plenty of them were sent by Merchant Lords—I recognized several of their emblems." She pointed her finger at him accusingly. "Tell me what you did!"
Zeke sighed, watching his hopes for a quiet evening crumble under the weight of more social obligations. But there was no avoiding it. If he truly intended to join the Merchant Council, he couldn't afford to alienate its members before his hearing.
"I'll explain everything soon," he said. "But first, I need to check if Mom needs help with our guests."
Maya's expression made it clear she was reluctant to wait, but she relented when he mentioned their mother. That could only mean the situation was worse than Zeke had anticipated. Once again, he felt a flicker of relief knowing he'd soon have an excuse to leave—if only for a little while.
Holding Maya's small hand, Zeke guided her up the path to the mansion. She happily chattered about the various emblems she had recognized on the visitors, but his thoughts were already focused on the challenges ahead. Socializing earlier had been tolerable, even pleasant at times, but he knew the Merchant Lords would be a far different experience.
The idea that they had come simply to congratulate him didn't even occur to him. Merchants were driven by profit—it was his task to uncover how they intended to benefit from associating with him now. Ideally, he'd find a way to turn their schemes to his advantage. At the very least, he had to ensure he didn't suffer a loss himself.
When they reached the entrance, Maya bounded off to join her friends for practice, leaving Zeke to follow a maid to the audience chamber. He didn't need to see it to know what awaited him—his Sphere of Awareness had already warned him.
The chamber was packed to capacity with visitors. At some point, it seemed the staff had given up trying to vet the guests and simply ushered everyone in.
In the midst of the chaos, Zeke spotted his mother, flanked by a handful of her most trusted aides, attempting to bring order to the unruly crowd. But even at a glance, it was clear she was fighting a losing battle.
Scanning the room, Zeke recognized several faces. Some rather influential figures had chosen to come in person instead of sending a representative—a sure sign that their business was significant. Unfortunately, such individuals wouldn't be satisfied with polite words or vague assurances.
The faint sheen of sweat on his mother's forehead spoke volumes about the strain she was under.
Zeke left the maid behind and strode toward the hall with purpose. Pausing briefly at the door, he straightened his appearance before stepping inside.
"Apologies," he announced, his voice cutting through the clamor. "I was delayed by other obligations."
As planned, his entrance immediately captured the attention of the guests. The crowd shifted, their focus turning away from his mother to fixate on him—the man they had all come to see.
In those eyes, Zeke caught a glimmer of their intentions. They viewed him as easy prey, their gazes sharp and predatory, like hunters sizing up their next target. A broad smile spread across his face as he took it all in. To a casual observer, it might have seemed friendly, even innocent. But behind that smile, his thoughts were anything but.
A pot-bellied man was the first to move, stepping toward Zeke with a wide smile that was as artificial as the flattery likely poised on his lips. But before the man could utter a word, Zeke raised his hand, halting him in his tracks.
The gesture was undeniably rude, especially toward a guest, but Zeke couldn't afford to let the crowd dictate the pace. If he allowed himself to get swept up in their rhythm, mistakes would be inevitable.
Instead, Zeke softened the blow with an apologetic expression and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Kuffels, I didn't mean to offend you, but I must decline any one-on-one meetings for now."
The man's expression, which had soured slightly at being ordered to stop, began to relax. Zeke's quick apology and use of his name seemed to placate him. To the onlookers, it signaled that Zeke held Mr. Kuffels in high regard—why else would he have bothered to memorize his name and face?
Of course, this wasn't true at all. Without Akasha's input, Zeke wouldn't have known who the man was. Even now, he found Mr. Kuffels rather unimpressive. His family had been in steady decline since he'd taken over from his late father, and this visit was likely a desperate bid to reverse their fortunes.
Zeke naturally wouldn't hesitate to offend someone like that if the situation called for it, but if a perceived insult could be smoothed over with a few well-placed words, he preferred to keep things amicable. After all, flattery didn't cost anything.
Mr. Kuffels cleared his throat. "Ahem, no offense taken, young friend. However, if you don't intend to agree to any meetings, why even come? Surely, it wasn't just to tease us?"
Zeke's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. No offense, my ass. The veiled barb was impossible to miss, subtly turning the gathered crowd against him by highlighting their wasted time. Still, his smile remained firmly in place as he responded.
"Far from it," Zeke said smoothly. "I simply prefer a more expedient way of communication."
Before anyone could question his meaning, Zeke issued a silent command to Akasha. Just as she had coordinated the soldiers of the Icefang Tribe, she was now assisting him in managing these guests. Moments later, his voice echoed in each of their minds, as distinctly clear as if he were speaking directly beside them.
Zeke's smile widened at the expressions of shock rippling through the crowd. Though there were only several dozen present, such a display was well beyond the capabilities of most Mages. In fact, this was one of the very feats that had earned him his recent evaluation. The demonstration left no doubt—the rumors about his Multicasting abilities were anything but exaggerated.
A hush fell over the room as every guest became absorbed in their 'private meeting' with Zeke. Of course, the man himself had no idea what was being discussed in these simultaneous conversations. It would have been impossible for him to follow so many exchanges at once, so he didn't even attempt to listen in. Instead, he placed his trust in Akasha to handle the situation.
With nothing else to occupy him, Zeke let his eyes wander over the crowd. Before long, his gaze settled on a peculiar figure off to the side and his heart momentarily stopped. He had not noticed them so far because that person had not shown up in his spatial perception at all.
The figure was clad in a flowing black gown that concealed them entirely, leaving not a single patch of skin exposed. Zeke had encountered similar attire often enough to know what it meant. This was unmistakably a messenger from the king.
Zeke made his way over to the messenger, offering a polite greeting. "My apologies. I didn't notice you before."
The messenger stared at Zeke for a long moment, creating an uncomfortable silence. Finally, the figure spoke, their voice modulated in a way that made it impossible for Zeke to discern their gender. "No matter," they said emotionlessly. "Ezekiel of Tradespire, I hereby deliver this to you."
From the folds of their enchanted robe, a pristine letter appeared.
Immediately, the eyes of many onlookers were drawn to it. They knew what it meant. The king often sent messengers to act on his behalf, and most had interacted with them before. However, an official document was something different—it usually signaled either a formal contract or an official decree from the king.
Zeke tried to glimpse the contents of the letter with his spatial awareness, but it, like the messenger, was immune to his probing. Though it was regretful, it also meant none of the others could pry into it either. Clearly, the king was a meticulous person.
Zeke accepted the letter, taking it from the messenger, who had remained motionless like a statue until the document was in his hands. As soon as Zeke took it, the messenger sprang to life, striding past him toward the exit without so much as a word of farewell.
For a moment, Zeke hesitated, considering whether to open the letter right then and there. His curiosity about its contents was immense. However, he decided against it, reigning in his impatience. He tucked the letter away for later and refocused on his duties. Now, he was even more eager to deal with the current crop of unwanted visitors.
Thankfully, Akasha worked efficiently, and it didn't take long for the first of them to start leaving the hall. Some wore pleasant expressions, nodding at Zeke as they departed, while others, disgruntled, stormed out without even glancing in his general direction.
As each person left, Akasha kept him informed about their requests and how she had responded. Hearing her reports, Zeke was pleased. She had a keen understanding of his priorities and could identify opportunities that aligned with his goals. In a way, it was unsettling how well the Spirit knew his preferences. Sometimes, he even felt that she understood him better than he did himself.
Finally, the last visitor departed, leaving Zeke alone in the large audience chamber. His mother and her assistants had slipped away the moment he took over, sending him grateful glances as they left.
When the door closed and the sound of footsteps faded, Zeke retrieved the king's letter once more. His heart pounded as he sliced open the envelope with a blade of hardened blood.
He pulled out the contents and unfolded the single page. Though it appeared plain, Zeke knew better than to judge a message from the enigmatic king by its simplicity. And indeed, even the first sentence was enough to send his heart into turmoil:
"In my name and capacity as King of Tradespire, I extend a formal offer of endorsement to Ezekiel of Tradespire to join the Merchant Council…"