The Flying Emporium

Ever since receiving a concrete date for his meeting with the [King], Severin had been a nervous wreck.

Even the breath-taking, magical fireworks that lasted the whole previous evening and covered the whole city of Hanvia, commemorating the conclusion of this year’s Games, could not offer him any distraction.

Now he sat there without appetite and poked around in the pasta dish which Milly had prepared especially for him.

He briefly wondered whether pasta like this usually contained eggs and told himself to find out. Maybe this way he could make some progress with his stagnant combination quest.

But he didn’t feel the same joy he normally would in this situation.

To him, this simply felt too much like a last supper.

He was going to meet a King. Not a nominal one-a real one. One with power. The power of his office, and therefore that of a whole country, but also that of a magical class of the same name.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t his King. Even if this meeting wouldn’t decide the future direction of his business, Severin would still feel apprehensive.

The only bright spot was that Samuel had promised to accompany him.

“It’s time,” the half-giant announced.

…

Severin had no mind to pay any attention to what Samuel was saying as they made their way through the extensive royal garden and towards one of the strictly guarded hedge arcs which demarcated the junction between public space and royal estate-even in his absentminded state Severin realized they definitely weren’t headed towards the main entrance.

His palms were starting to feel sweaty, and he hoped he looked calmer than he felt.

If at least he wasn’t stuck in this overpriced rag.

They kept walking and passed through the arc, without any of the guards stepping forward. Instead, they saluted them respectfully and let them pass without questioning them.

Severin briefly wondered whether these people simply recognized the man besides him, or if the guards had been previously informed of their visit.

‘Probably both’, Severin concluded.

The next moment, those thoughts were already forgotten.

Severin simply kept following Samuel’s lead.

A few hundred meters further, and they found themselves standing in front of an ornate door.

By now they had walked so far, and everything was so intimidatingly huge and extensive, that Severin wasn’t even sure if this door still led inside the actual palace or inside a different building altogether.

This time the sole guard, or at least the only one Severin could see, didn’t immediately make way.

The two men stopped.

The [Berserker] summoned a small item Severin couldn’t clearly make out and handed it over to the guard.

“Sir.” The uniformed man saluted like his comrades before him and stepped aside.

The door opened seemingly on its own and invited Severin and his escort to step inside a short but richly decorated hallway. The moment the door behind them had closed, they already found themselves standing in front of yet another door.

The final one, Severin instinctually knew.

It was behind this door that Ringald, [King] of Malcos, would give him an audience.

Samuel not immediately opening said door and instead giving Severin an encouraging pat on his back, all but confirmed this suspicion. No words required.

Severin took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped forward. Now it was him leading the way and the half-giant following behind.

The nervousness was gone.

But only for an instant.

The room was smaller than he expected, almost cozy, and generally more modest than what he had expected, given the proportions and pomp of everything he had seen leading up to this way.

But why were there already two people inside?

‘Isn’t he supposed to let me wait before he shows up? Did I just barge through the door with the [King] already waiting? Did I keep the actual [King] waiting? Did Sam lead me on? A set up? Or am I just an idiot?’

Severin’s thoughts were racing.

“Aah, there you are! Samuel! And Severin, I presume?”

‘Not angry. Good. Then I…’

Severin started a respectful bow. “It is my…”

“Please. Don’t. Not while we are in this room.” The seated man interrupted Severin, who was about to make a fool of himself and with an open palm gestured towards the round table.

“Please take a seat.

And what about you, Sam? Care to join us as well?”

“As a mediator.”

Severin was surprised, but glad, to yet again feel an inhumanly large hand reassuringly on his back. The gesture evoked a small eyebrow raise of the otherwise pleasantly smiling [King].

Under the expressionless gaze of who was apparently the [King’s] personal aide and who was standing directly behind the man, Severin crossed the room and did as he was told.

“Severin.” Severin had barely sat down and the calculating eyes that immediately struck him when he saw them on the stadium’s large screen were now focused solely on him.

“I have already heard about you. First from my old friend over there, and then later again from my son. Markus,” he clarified.

“And I have seen what you are capable of.

Sadly, so has everyone else in Malcos. Thanks to dear Richard’s striking performance”. Ringald didn’t openly show it, but Severin felt the man wasn’t particularly happy about the way he conducted his first advertisement campaign.

“So, tell me. What exactly is it that brings you here? Samuel refused to say. Uncharacteristic. Was quite adamant about it as well.

That set me on edge. Quite frankly, your… products… they are dangerous. And by extension, so are you.”

Severin felt as if he was stared down by a predator. The fact that the man was still smiling only made it worse.

“So unless you decided to accept my son’s prudent offer and seek to move your business towards Hanvia and under our protection, I’m not sure what you are hoping to achieve with this visit.

Maybe establish a branch?

But given your stunt during the Games…”

Only a few minutes had passed-Severin didn’t even have a real chance to open his mouth-behaving like a fool, instead- but Ringald had already brought up his promotion, twice.

No doubt anymore, the man was more than just slightly annoyed by it. And this time some of the annoyance had made it into his voice.

A cold sweat formed on Severin’s back. It was time for him to step up.

“Your Highness.

You are right in that I don’t intend to do either of those things. But I maintain that what I have to offer might just be even more valuable. That is, access to my store just as convenient and easily reachable as if it was located right here in the middle of Malcos and, maybe more importantly, the prospect of opening up future trade routes.”

Severin then continued to rattle off the small speech he had written and memorized the day before regarding the matter of the portal station that was just waiting to be completed.

…

“Commercially available teleport magic? Is this supposed to be a joke?” A visibly agitated [King] confronted not Severin, but the massive man next to him; even the so far expressionless fourth person presently in the room, for the briefest instant, seemed to have lost some of her cool.

“I don’t believe it is. One half of the station-one of the terminals- is already completed. I have seen it myself.”

“But you have not seen it actually work.”

“I have not,” Samuel admitted. “But if anyone is capable of something so outrageous, it is him. And for what it’s worth, Mylana herself still, at this point, cannot figure out the mechanisms behind the two machines we told you about.

I vouch for him.”

“And I… I would be willing to back my claims up with [Contract Magic].” Severin injected himself back into the conversation, drawing Ringald’s gaze back onto him; for a few seconds.

Then, without saying a word and deep in thought, he turned back to his old [Berserker] friend.

Looked at him. Lingered.

And finally, back at Severin.

“That won’t be necessary.”