Zeke continued reading the letter, his eyes scanning each line as his thoughts grew increasingly tangled. What had initially seemed like a straightforward proposal quickly revealed itself to be far more complex than he had first assumed.
The offer of endorsement was genuine, promising Zeke a clear path to joining the Merchant Council—even if his qualifications fell short in other areas. However, it was far from an unconditional offer. The King had attached several stipulations, and the more Zeke considered them, the more he doubted whether accepting the proposal was truly in his best interest.
One of the conditions required Zeke to establish Tradespire as his permanent base of operations, maintaining a constant presence in the city. At first glance, it didn't seem like a significant demand. However, upon closer reflection, Zeke realized it would bind both him and his family far more closely to the city than he had ever intended.
For now, Tradespire was an ideal location. It offered abundant connections, wealth, and opportunities, making it the perfect place to build his influence. Yet, its position on the Empire's border posed a grave risk. If the Empire ever decided to annex the city, staying in Tradespire would be nothing short of suicidal. The bounty he had placed on every member of the four great families was still active, and Zeke had no illusions about the number of powerful individuals harboring grudges against him for their personal losses.
Yet, if that were the only condition, Zeke might still have considered accepting the endorsement. It was the second stipulation that gave him a real headache. The king demanded first purchasing rights to all of Zeke's future products.
This presented a massive problem.
The King of Tradespire wasn't merely a ruler; he was the king of merchants, commanding the largest trade network on the continent. If Zeke agreed to these terms, he would lose control over where his products ultimately ended up. He harbored no illusions about the king's intentions—there was no scenario in which Tradespire's ruler wouldn't sell Zeke's creations to the Empire.
Even if the king wanted to refrain, such a restriction would risk compromising Tradespire's cherished neutrality, a cornerstone of its power. This meant that if Zeke accepted the deal, he would effectively be barred from creating any products with military applications or strategic potential. Doing so would risk them falling straight into enemy hands.
Zeke's eyes lingered on the final line of the letter.
"…This offer will remain valid until the day of your hearing. There is no need to send me a formal response. If you claim my support during the meeting, I will take it as your acceptance of my terms."
His thoughts began to race. This… felt ominous. It was almost as if the king didn't particularly care whether Zeke accepted or not. But then, why send the offer at all?
Zeke had never met the enigmatic ruler, and there was certainly no debt or connection between them that would justify such a favor. The endorsement, on the surface, appeared far too generous, yet the underlying conditions were anything but simple.
No, this wasn't altruism—it couldn't be. There had to be more to this offer than what appeared on the surface.
With a sigh, Zeke folded the letter neatly and slid it back into its envelope. What had initially seemed like a potential solution to one of his biggest problems was starting to feel like yet another headache. Thankfully, he didn't have to make a decision right away. Who knew? Perhaps he would secure another endorsement before the deadline, allowing him to sidestep this predicament entirely.
Lost in thought, Zeke made his way back to his chambers. Night had already fallen, and the only thing visible outside his window was the illuminated pathway winding up the gentle incline. He stood there for a while, gazing at the blackened landscape, his thoughts drifting aimlessly.
No matter how long he pondered, he couldn't unravel the Kings motives. Though, a vague suspicion lingered—this man's intentions and methods were far from simple. After all, one did not rise to the position of the king of merchants by accident.
Even if Zeke couldn't gauge the king's character, he was certain of one thing: this was a man as crafty and resourceful as they came. Underestimating him would be a grave mistake.
Shaking his head, Zeke pushed away the useless thoughts. He didn't have the luxury of dwelling on uncertainties. An entire day had already slipped by without him making any headway on the critical trade agreements he needed to secure. If he started chasing shadows now, he might as well admit defeat.
With a forceful slap to his cheeks, he jolted himself back to focus. The sharp sting on his skin helped clear away the lingering haze of distractions. That's right—there was real work to be done.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Akasha manifested a small booklet before him. Zeke blinked, stunned by its appearance. Though it was clearly a product of thought manifestation, the object looked and felt disarmingly real.
Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing the leather binding. He recoiled immediately, his eyes widening in shock. The texture was unmistakable—warm, supple, and tangible.
"What in the…?" Zeke muttered, eyeing the floating construct with a mix of intrigue and unease. Was this truly Akasha's doing? For the first time, he hesitated, unsure of the answer.
A moment later, the spirit appeared beside the book, her eyes locked on him. Zeke studied her face, intrigued by the peculiar expression she wore—a mix of pride and amusement, as if she couldn't decide which to settle on. At least it confirmed that she was behind this phenomenon.
"What did you do?" he asked. "How am I able to touch it?"
Akasha's expression shifted fully to pride as she explained, "I've convinced your mind. Even though your fingers aren't actually touching anything, your brain interprets the signals as if they are."
Zeke's expression faltered for a moment. This meant that Akasha could soon have full control over his perception, capable of making him believe in any reality she wished. He had always known that giving the Spirit absolute freedom was a risky choice, but only now did he realize just how many ways she had to manipulate him.
By altering his reality, she could have him dancing to her tune like a puppet on strings. And considering how well Akasha knew him, orchestrating such a scenario would be child's play.
However, after the initial shock subsided, Zeke's body relaxed, and a smile spread across his face. Reaching for the book again, he grabbed it firmly, flipping it open and inspecting the pages with care. He even brought it to his nose for a sniff. No matter how he inspected it, the mental construct appeared fully real to all his senses.
Well, not all of them. His spatial perception still confirmed that there was nothing physically present, giving him at least one way to differentiate illusion from reality. Zeke wasn't entirely sure if Akasha was incapable of altering his spatial perception or if she had simply chosen not to. After all, her goal wasn't to deceive him but rather to create a lifelike projection of an object.
"Marvelous," Zeke said, noting the visible delight on the spirit's face. "Is this what you've been working on lately?"
Akasha nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips. Though her expression still carried a hint of stiffness, it was evident she had been refining this aspect of her manifestation. Compared to their earlier encounters, she appeared far more natural. Yet the surprises didn't end there. Akasha took a sudden step toward him.
Curious, Zeke remained silent, watching intently as the spirit slowly raised her hand toward his face. At first, he couldn't fathom her intent—until he felt it. A touch, as soft as silk, grazed his cheek, light and delicate. The sensation was almost ethereal, far too soft to be mistaken for real skin. Whatever signal she was sending to his brain, it transcended the ordinary, offering a touch that felt nothing short of divine.
Zeke stared at the spirit, dumbfounded. The book in his hand felt so real that he couldn't distinguish it from a physical object. Yet somehow, her touch had been... different.
"Why is it like this?" he asked, his tone unsure as he tried to address the strange inconsistency.
Akasha didn't seem to hear—or perhaps she simply ignored—his question, continuing to stroke his cheek with the same deliberate motion. Zeke decided to let her be, assuming she was likely gathering data to refine her illusions. But as the moments stretched on and her hand lingered, he felt compelled to interrupt.
"Akasha?"
The single word seemed to jolt her out of her focused state. She pulled her hand back abruptly, retreating a step as though caught in some awkward act. "That was a good test," she said, her voice as cold and monotone as ever. "I will work on improving my technique."
Without waiting for a response, she vanished, leaving Zeke alone with the illusionary book still in his hands. For a moment, he stared at the empty spot where she had stood, blinking in mild disbelief. When it became clear she wouldn't be returning, he shook his head and dismissed the spirit's eccentricities for now.
His gaze shifted to the book. It was a summary of all the reports David had compiled during his time with the dwarves. Inside were his insights, connections, advice, and various discoveries from months of observation and interaction.
Zeke settled into his plush leather chair and flipped open the first page. If he was going to visit the dwarves tomorrow, he needed every possible advantage. Cultural missteps were not an option this time. Success would require precision and preparation, and the more he understood their ways, the better his chances.
For hours, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic flipping of pages as Zeke diligently studied the booklet. Occasionally, he would pause to visualize the scenarios described in David's reports. Some of the details were almost beyond belief.
Machinery as large as houses, powered by steam rather than magic. A sprawling network of tunnels delving so deep into the earth that molten stone marked their boundaries. A civilization utterly unlike anything he had encountered before.
The world of the dwarves was fascinating—and utterly alien.
This cultural divergence extended far beyond technology. The dwarves were fundamentally different in their societal structure as well. Unlike most civilizations Zeke was familiar with, they appeared to have little regard for social hierarchy—at least, not one rooted in power or lineage. Instead, their respect was reserved for two qualities: Skill and Guts.
Skill and Guts.
The phrase echoed repeatedly throughout David's report, almost like a mantra for the dwarven people. David had attempted to define it at one point but eventually abandoned the effort, unable to find the right words. From what Zeke could gather, it boiled down to an appreciation for those who were bold, boisterous, and capable of backing their words with action.
Zeke smirked as he considered this. It wasn't his usual style to put on such a show, but he couldn't deny the appeal of trying something new to win their favor. After all, he had just shattered the record for the fastest advancement to Grand Mage. If that didn't grant him the right to strut a little, what would?
Zeke found himself unexpectedly eager for the journey ahead. Despite the litany of complaints and colorful language scattered throughout David's report, the dwarves were depicted in a surprisingly positive light. They seemed to be a hardworking, no-nonsense people who valued effort over status. Even their Exarchs, the highest-ranking among them, were known to mingle freely with the common folk.
As Zeke read on, the plan forming in his mind grew clearer with each passing moment. By the time the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, he had completed his preparations. It was time to visit the dwarves.