Deal of the Century

Rionriv's intense glare never departed from me as she huffed, plopping back into the booth and swiping her drink from the table. Taking a swig, she waved her hand at me.

“Not really telling the future, but fine. Just know, if I’m not impressed, I’m walking.”

Good enough for me! It's not a no, which means it could become a yes.

With a sigh of relief, I quickly scanned the three participants of my upcoming mentalist performance. Slowing my breathing, I centred myself. This was nothing more than creating a character in my world. I needed to use broad strokes. First, touching on places and traits—the more general things before narrowing them down. But who to begin with?

That was when I saw the distracted elf girl, who now looked up at me curiously. As our eyes met, she immediately shied away.

“Aesandoral Thantossa, correct?” I began, drawing her attention back and flashing a boyish smile in her direction.

That last name is really familiar…I need to draw this out until I can remember its importance to the world's lore. That means I need to brush off the old Tahvin charm.

I may have been awkward and a bit rusty in the art of flirting, even though I couldn't remember why, but I did recall a thing or two from my old life. In fact, I knew there was more in there that I could grasp as well. Unfortunately, a lot of my flirting experience felt as though it was locked away behind the rickety trauma dam hastily made by Phyllis. So, I’d have to manage today with what I could remember. The last thing I wanted was to break down before my potential future party.

Plus, if I'm reading this right, this girl already seems into me. This may be easier than expected.

“Beautiful name and beautiful emerald green eyes—very unique.”

I came out of the gate swinging, and from the immediate flush of colour on her cheeks, it seemed the right move. Her posture stiffened as she focused on me from behind her mug.

Now to hit her with the lore!

“Let’s see, that’s a forest elf name, but the last name is surprisingly human and from the Ir’fornu region. You’re full elf, not half, obviously, those eyes and fit physique gave that away, which means the surname is not from birth but…title? Your hair is short, which throws a wrench in things—”

“A what?” Rionriv cut in.

There's always one in the crowd...

“Hush!” I silenced her, currently on a roll as the pieces of world traditions flowed into my memory. 

Then it hit me. 

“That is, unless you’re non-traditional. Thantossa, Thantossa, why is that familiar? Wait, no way! First Knight Thantossa from the...ah, you must be a resident of the Druidic nation of Goodshore. But as a daughter of Goodshore…you must not be a first child. Unless—”

Snapping my fingers for suspense, I pointed to her.

“Oh, wait, no, it makes sense. You are the First Daughter of one of the Gilded Ladies of the Queen Matron, but you don’t want the responsibility you’re destined for.”

It was a stab in the dark, but from the way her posture shifted yet again, I felt I was close to being correct with my assumption.

“You cut your hair, which is an act of defiance against the Queen Matron of Goodshore. It’s a bold choice, but I think it looks good on you. How am I doing?”

Aesandoral was staring at me, mouth agape. Her blushing cheeks had grown tomato red as she hid her face behind the living mug once more.

“You know so much. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone any of that.” She mumbled to herself.

“What?” Rionriv exploded from beside her. “You’ve totally told plenty of people that stuff before. You’re literally always going on about shirking responsibilities.”

“Oh yeah, I guess.” She giggled in response as though she had forgotten that simple fact before sipping her drink.

Phew! I got it. I thought, trying not to reveal my surprise.

But also—holy shit, a royal elf?! Okay, maybe she is of some importance. Luckily, I never did too much with the Goodshore story. I planned to, but it's a bit late for that, I guess. Meh—should be fine. Let’s keep this ball rolling.

Turning towards my next participant, I glanced Sharzin up and down.

“Next, I want to talk about Sharzin Thistlewillow.”

Her attentive stare glanced up, locking with my eyes. I felt as though she was staring right through me, seeing through my act yet allowing it to go on. Shaking the feeling off, I continued.

“Now you are curious. Raven black hair. Porcelain skin. Eyes grey—no speckled silver, so much so that they glitter like a flawlessly cut diamond. My first thought would be the Silver Isle, but those shut-ins aren’t really in the business of exploring the world at this point in history.”

“What was that?” Ri swung her drink towards me.

“Hush, stop interrupting. I’ll get to you next.” I shook my head and looked back at Sharzin, steepling my fingers. 

“You also don’t appear interested in conforming to traditions, that’s apparent by your grim attire, which means you weren’t raised in a house that forced it on you. But that could be a red herring. Your surname is interesting. Two plants. That could be from a few different regions, but I'd hazard that you're from Ir’fornu as well."

I tried to read the girl at this point, but was met with a stone-cold expression. A shiver ran down my spine as I made a mental note never to play poker with the girl. Shaking the feeling once more, I continued.

"Two places are sticking out to me. But, really, it's just one. After all, you must have some ancestors with magical qualities notable enough to make you sought by Highly Magical Al’Magi over the more general studies of the University of Valenkamp. Sharzin, does the name Tairnstead mean anything to you?”

I watched the groundling flinch as her gaze grew timid before shaking her head in denial.

Gotcha!

“That’s what I thought. You must be the child of someone of influence there, aren’t you? Someone with powers strong enough to demand respect but not enough to be trouble. You’re obviously no threat to the throne…but to be a rogue from a noble family is curious. Why keep yourself to the shadows, I wonder? Unless there’s some other shame surrounding your birth? Maybe, being the bastard child of—”

“Hey, that’s enough.” Rionriv interrupted once more.

“Which begs the question of whether or not you three have always known each other? If you’re all from the continent of Ir’fornu to the east, you must, right? But, no, I say not!” 

At this, I stood up. In an instant, I had slipped from being a mentalist into the role of a prosecutor. Everything had led up to that point as the final pieces clicked together, and I looked over at my final participant, whom I had been thinking about the entire time.

Pointing towards Rionriv, I smirked.

“Rionriv Singlemoon, your name is mysterious and unfamiliar, but traditionally, names with the moon affix are those of prominence, especially in elven culture. But you're a human. Yet another curious surname, like our elven participant. Which makes sense why you would know Aesandoral longer than Sharzin. Explaining why I’ve seen you looking over at her ever so slightly every time she talked.”

I watched her cold glare remain emotionless as she stared me down. Unlike Sharzin's poker face, I saw an electrified hate and distrust. Poking at the dark when it came to her past, I was hoping my final assumptions stuck. At least the other two gave me some inclination that I was moving in the right direction.

But Rionriv…she was a different beast entirely.

“You want to protect your team,” I continued. “But you also want to protect your oldest and closest friend more. That’s why you got so upset when she forgot she had shared a private thing with others, which included you. But! And here’s the kicker. You got even more upset when I called Sharzin a bastard. This begs the question…where are you from? You’re not originally from Goodshore, are you?”

I stepped around the table, positioning myself beside Rionriv. Electricity crackled around her, causing her hair to stand and small bolts to arc from her to the mug just beyond her grasp. With hands up, I took a step farther away from her.

“That red hair is a northern trait from the continent of Sact’fal,” I added, glancing at Aesandoral, who gave me a look that confirmed I was correct. 

“And that innate electric affinity means you must originally be from the Emerald Sanctuary region, the elemental capital of the world. I don't think the Capital of Sanctum Elementus, no, but a Cardinal City on the rim, without doubt. But like the others in your party, you're non-traditional. I can see the rules of the Sanctuary aren't something you follow. You are quite clearly an intensely angry human being. So, my guess is based on your looks and responses that you’re an orphan, maybe—”

Her fist swung like a bolt of lightning and, before I could react, connected squarely with my face. Electrical currents discharged into my body, and the smell of ozone tickled my senses as the lightning that crackled around it surged through me.

Ouff—crap. I tumbled back, rolling over a table and into the bar. Yep, I hit a nerve.

“Enough!” Rionriv shouted, thunder echoing in her words as she turned to storm out. “We’re leaving.”

“Rionriv, wait.” Aesandoral was the first to call out, reaching for the charged sorceress. “Wait a second, please! H-He does seem to know a lot.”

“He could have stolen our files or something.”

“He genuinely didn’t seem to know who we were when we ran into him the first time fighting the Bard-o-Trons.” Sharzin now spoke up. “I doubt he’s been researching us as a statue. So, I agree with Aesandoral, we should at the very least fully hear him out.”

Rionriv stood there for a moment, her back towards me. I watched as the electricity around her slowly subsided before her shoulders relaxed. Eventually, she sighed deeply before beginning her march back to the bar.

“Fine, but you’re buying a second round.”

PHEW! I thought to myself as I rubbed at my numb cheek. Okay, that part is done. Two out of three really ain’t bad.

A few moments later, Rionriv returned, and we all ate and drank in an awkward silence for a little while before Aesandoral finally spoke up.

“How did you know all of that?”

“I have a special power that has given me extensive world knowledge,” I explained, and while not accurate, it was technically true.

“The problem is that I don’t fall into the category of ‘triop’ material since I lack the fated magical mark that you three share. I’m also not qualified or rich enough to travel solo. This is why I’m on this campus and why I'm so happy to have met you three. With your help, you can help me use my knowledge to make the world a better place.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Rionriv grumbled, looking up from her drink. "Like something that scheming lich at the base of campus would say."

Well, shit, she's not wrong.

“It is—” I agreed, nodding and rubbing my cheek. “It is too good to be true, but hear me out. I want to lead you through dungeons and to exotic locations, using your unique abilities to slay monsters and loot ancient magical caches. Everywhere I plan to take you, I’ll know how many enemies and traps there’ll be, and where all the most valuable items are.”

“That’s dragon dung!” Rionriv protested.

“No, it’s the deal of the century. You all get to become rich and famous Magilancers clearing out dungeons, and I get to make the world a better place.”

Or at least, that sounds better than ‘Ishara gets rich, settles down, and hides out from the upcoming horrible war between gods, eldritch entities and mortals in a magical bunker.’

Rionriv stared at me intensely before slamming her second empty drink to the table.

“One problem.” She sniffed loudly, as her eyes narrowed on me. “We’re on the verge of being expelled.”