Mythshaper-Chapter 59: Arrogant Prick

Chapter 59: Arrogant Prick

As I entered our courtyard, the wagon had already settled in, with a familiar face unloading boxes of materials from it. From the look of it, they seemed to have brought almost double the articles compared to last time, almost enough to last a season if we went about them in a relaxed manner.

While subcontracting the works to rural regions was a cheaper option compared to the standard rate of artisans in big cities, the tedious journey to Karmel made it impossible to have regular communication between the parties. And thus we have settled for loads of commissions, taking over a large amount of time for the transport to be worth it.

Truthfully, if not for the lack of artisans among their ranks, the legionaries would have never considered it. With the amount of excess runework the legionaries demanded, they'd gladly leave behind batches of commission that didn’t require immediate effort.

"Ah, Arilyn, right?” chirped Immunis Lucian, unloading the last of the boxes at the doorstep. Today, he was accompanied by another man, a stout patrician man with a navy-blue uniform that indicated his position was superior to the Immunes or the regular milites. The simple ease and air of superiority he was standing with, with no outright intention of assisting in unloading the boxes, further evidenced that.

"Is Artisan Ashyn home?"

My gaze shifted from the man. I was about to answer, but faltered, finding Mum's figure coming out of the house, wiping her palms on her apron. Father was still out on his usual patrols.

"That's quite a few hefty boxes you got there," Mum said, looking at the chest-high wall before the perch, lined by hardwood boxes. “This will barely leave us with any breathing space.”

The first time, the articles had been barely a quarter of the current numbers. Mum’s competence at finishing those works had convinced them to return with double the contents in the second term. Now the workload doubled once more, not that it made her feel any cheerier about it. Not only were the legionaries' fees a bit lower than the industry standard, but the commissions they handed over were all dull repairing work over fabricators of similar design. Even weapons of different shapes—a sword, axe, lance, or spear—whatever it was, it somehow held a matching design.

Repairing them had almost become a second nature, even though I worked at a tenth of Mum's number.

“Haha, you jest,” the Immunis chuckled. "While the articles in the boxes might be a bit too much, it is nothing too much for a master artisan such as yourself, wouldn't you say?"

While his tone indicated the utmost respect he had for the position of a master artisan, it also indicated that they had checked Mum’s background behind her back.

Mum shot him a displeased glance. “Master artisan or not, this is our home, not some high-range foundry where I’d have all the spaces needed to store the items.”

True, even after we freed space from the last time’s delivery, we’d barely have half the space for the boxes. Well, if Mum put her utmost effort into repairing them, the work probably wouldn’t take more than a few weeks. However, she was still recovering from sacrificing a large quantity of her essence threads for crafting me the [Band of Protection], not to mention she wanted to leave a portion of the work for me to gain experience.

The other man finally opened his mouth. “If you are so against taking these inconsequential works, I may have something that would be worth your time and effort.”

Mum narrowed her eyes. "I'm afraid I fail to recognise you, Tribune..."

"Alexis Daenerys," said the man with a slight incline of his head, hardly bearing any weight of respect for a master Artisan, as Immunus Lucian, had shown.

Mom returned the favour with the same attitude. The man was likely a high patrician and on his way to becoming a high-ranking officer in the legionaries. However, I noted with my fractal sight that Alexis just recently seemed to have advanced to the Prestigious class. Comparing him to Mum, who was not only a Master Runesmith, but also of Fabled Class, the gap between the two was not just about the same rank. After all, there were only so many master runesmiths in the world.

She gestured to welcome them into the house, leaving the hardwood boxes before the perch for the time being.

“I have noted,” Mum said, giving one last glance at the wall of boxes before entering the house, “that many of the boxes seemed to contain materials instead of fabricators that require repair. I thought I made it clear to Centurion Arata, when he first came on with this agreement, that I would be mainly taking commissions for repair, not making you any new weapons."

She shot a pointed look towards the Tribune. As for how she knew the content inside the boxes without opening them, I had a bit of a clue. For a brief stretch of time, Mum had spread her influence, pushing a good few essence threads into the boxes, and somehow figured out the general contents inside them. Imitating her, I did the same, though my inspection hardly bore fruit.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Other than making out a few types of essence-rich materials, I figured out nothing much.

"Centurion Arata was a fool," spat Tribune Alexis, “to comply with such a simple contract with a master artisan. Only a buffoon would let your capabilities be wasted on such tribal duties.” He shook his head heavily. “No, no, your time will be much appreciated spent on—”

“Oh?” Mum lifted her eyes before he could finish, a quirk on her lips. “So, you will determine how I spend my days, Tribune?"

Alexis Daenerys narrowed his eyes, shooting a glance towards his Immunis.

“I believe you are mistaken, Tribune. Fool or not, Arata doesn’t have the audacity to compel me into anything I disagree with, and neither do you.”

“Of course, of course,” came Immunis Lucien in a more subservient tone. “Tribune Alexis was merely suggesting an alternative to what we have agreed.”

“I can already guess what kind of alternative it is,” Mum said, her voice severe. “Just make sure not to overstep your boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Alexis snorted a laugh. “Do I have to learn about boundaries from a deposed knight?”

Mum’s expression shifted as she scrutinised the man for a second time.

Perhaps satisfied with the result, the Tribune continued, "When we received the first deliveries of your work, the legionaries were livid to find the repaired weapons’ effectiveness was even better than most brand new alternatives. So much so that one thing led to another, and I had to dig a bit deeper into your background."

A tint of a cold golden glow appeared in Mom's eyes.

"Colour me surprised when I found it was actually the work of a master artisan, exiled to this little valley, hiding in obscurity."

"What do you want?" Mom said, her voice icily.

"What do I want?” smiled the blond man, his lips curved upwards in a mocking smile. “It should be fairly simple for a master artisan of your esteem."

A deep swell of anger surged up in my chest, hearing his derisive tone.

Alexis acted as though he didn’t even notice and continued, being on his high horse. “An artifact of middling quality should be nothing much with your capabilities. As long as you promise to deliver it, you don’t have to worry about these measly works. House Denarys will even—”

“You think crafting an artifact is the same as repairing a bunch of fabricators?” I glared at him, primal force sizzling through my channels.

Mum was a bit taken aback by the intensity of my voice, but promptly put her palm over my shoulder, reassuringly.

“You want me to make an artefact for you?” Mum said coldly. “That is not going to happen. Just because your family gained a favour or two from the Imperator, you think you can push your weight and oppress anyone into doing your bidding? Let me clear it to your boneheaded brain: even if you bring out your old ancestor, or even William, they won’t have any luck getting anything out of me.”

Just as Mum finished, a reddish aura surged from Alexis, spreading throughout the room, almost eating away all the colour and vibrancy of the place. Disconcerted, I moved behind Mum unwittingly, the bracelet pulling onto its power to form a layer of protection over my whole form.

But with Mum with me, I had nothing to worry about. As soon as the red misty aura surged, Mum’s domain of Influence manifested for the briefest moment and all the reddish aura vanished as if it had never even existed.

“What did I say about boundaries?” Her voice rose and seemed to strike the very being of the two men.

Lucien stepped back unconsciously, but the Tribune grounded his feet, unprepared to face defeat.

“It’s a mistake,” Lucien cried. “Honest mistakes. Tribune Alexis is still young and doesn’t know better, please forgive—”

“Shut your traps, Lucien,” barked Alexis, his eyes glaring at Mum even though his words were directed at his officer. Although his aura didn't surge this time, his tone hardly changed, coming on harder. "Reading your files, I knew you won’t make it easy. The people of the town seem to hold you in high esteem, I wonder how much of your past deeds need to be revealed for it to be changed. Think carefully. You may have held a lofty title in the past, had the backing of your house, but all that had already been stripped from you. A few words here and there and the little family you have--"

A tyrannical force materialised out of thin air, and all ounces of it pressed onto the Tribune. Alexis ground his teeth, his back bending under the terrible force. Unprepared to lose, he surged with all his power, his aura surging with his growl.

"I invite you into my home," Mum said, her voice cold as the darkest winter night. "You have some gall to use coercion before my child!"

“You won’t get away with this! You won’t—”

Mum raised her palm and tapped her index finger in formless air. Soon, many runes came into existence, forming a script over the uncouth man’s head, and immediately the force multiplied severalfold. Even with all his prestigious-class power, Alexis couldn’t manage to stand straight.

His knees bent, chest heaving as though hyperventilating, until he found himself on the floor, his knees and arms pressed against the ground.

"You," he roared, veins bulging on his temples. It was all that he was capable of right now.

Mum shook her head, as much disappointed as she was displeased with the whole thing. She drew her palm over my shoulder reassuringly, as the layer of protection wilted back into the artifact.

"You said you have read about me,” she said, “about what happened to me and why I was exiled from my family. I know the Imperials, like any good sovereignty, tended to redact any atrocities they wrought, or put the blame on others, but those files of yours still should have enough about me to prevent you from acting so rampant in my house." She gave him a sidelong glance and then to Lucien. “Or perhaps you’re just another arrogant prick.”

Alexis swallowed a breath, and slowly the invisible force released upon him, easing his stature. Even still, he couldn’t stand back immediately.

Gritting his teeth, Alexis stood up, his face pale as a sheet, his palms clasped tight, still shaking from the pressure. As though unable to swallow his pride, he glared at Mum. “This won’t end here.”

“Get out.” Mum’s icy voice reverberated, contrasting with the boiling temperature of the room.

Not giving her another glance, Alexis carried his heavy form out of the house.

_____