Chrysalis Chapter 1707 - A Harder Kind of Sale

Establishing contact with representatives from the Church of the Path had proven a difficult task for Merchant. It was no small feat to find an individual willing to even acknowledge that such a person resided on Green Mountain.

The situation was patently ridiculous, considering a massive cathedral dedicated to their creed stood right there, yet she couldn't help but respect the stubbornness of their silence.

Nevertheless, "difficult" did not equate to "impossible." If there was one thing Merchant understood better than anyone else in the Colony, it was the nature of currency and, more crucially, the power it wielded. Mistress Enid had never hesitated to instruct her pupil on the more... unscrupulous functions of the market.

Money was a truly marvelous tool. Its worth extended far beyond mere scarcity or practical utility. While it could purchase services and products, that was merely its most elementary application.

Money possessed hands. It could unlatch windows and swing open doors that were meant to stay bolted, forging entirely new paths and prospects.

Money possessed ears. It could acquire secrets and lore that would otherwise remain completely out of reach. Though many lips remained sealed across the world, money acted as a master key for any lock.

Perhaps most significantly, though often misunderstood, money possessed a voice. It could manifest as a subtle murmur or a whisper shared in the perfect location at the ideal moment. Alternatively, it could roar—a deafening blast that demanded reverence and attention, diverting focus away from other, less vital matters.

By mastering the flow of coin, Merchant had pinpointed the exact location of Grand Priest Alir Vinting. Through these same means, she ensured a message reached him that very morning, tucked away on a tray beneath his tea service.

It was information she wasn't meant to hold and access she was never supposed to be granted.

Consequently, she now sat in a warehouse along the Green Mountain docks, positioned behind a corner table. She sipped her own tea and waited.

The individuals who had facilitated her entry didn't truly grasp what they had assisted with; they only knew they were paid handsomely to remain oblivious. Silence and ignorance—two more commodities many failed to realize were always for sale.

Taking such a gamble by entering such a hostile environment should have made her feel threatened. However, she felt no fear. Safety, she knew, could be bought even for someone like her, even in a place like this.

She showed no surprise when a figure stepped out from the shadows, nor did she feel a tremor of dread when he took the seat opposite her.

“Alir Vinting, Grand Priest of the Path. Welcome,” she greeted him.

Despite never having met him, she was certain of his identity. Very few were permitted to don those specific robes, and no one else on the Mountain with that authority had any reason to meet her here.

“This was quite unexpected,” the man remarked, pulling out his chair to sit. “A polite conversation with one of your kind?”

Merchant had become an expert at reading eyes. Some people were blunt about their hatred for monsters, flinching away or curling their lips in revulsion. She didn't mind that honesty. Those were the natural reactions of people raised to fear her species from the moment they were old enough to understand the world.

She could navigate such people, attempting to close the distance or build fragile connections that might eventually strengthen. She could strive to make them view her as an individual rather than a beast.

However, there were others who were skilled at masking their true nature. These were the traders, the merchants, and the voyagers who had enough experience to keep their internal thoughts off their faces. The majority of her associates fell into this category, making it far more difficult to distinguish between those who harbored deep prejudice and those who didn't. Yet, she had discovered there was always a tell. Lying with one's eyes is a much harder task.

In all her life, Merchant had never encountered a gaze as freezing as the one Alir Vinting directed at her.

To him, she wasn't a person; she was barely even a living entity. He looked at her with less regard than a human might give a common pet or even a piece of furniture.

Within those eyes, she saw a mixture of both greed and loathing.

Abruptly, Merchant lost all desire for her usual rapport. She had no interest in performing or playing the subtle games of negotiation. Her goal now was to spend the absolute minimum amount of time in his presence.

“We are holding one of your priests,” she stated bluntly. “More will follow soon. If you wish for their return, this is the cost.”

She produced a document and slid it across the wood, quickly pulling her leg back to ensure no part of her touched the man across from her.

“You truly expect us to pay a ransom for our priests?” Alir asked, reaching for the paper. Upon seeing the figure written there, his brows rose in surprise. “Well, this is hardly civilized behavior.”

“The opinions of the Church of the Path regarding us are of no concern.”

“They should be,” he countered, balled up the paper, and tossed it to the floor. He leaned forward. “It is incredibly foolish to provide us with such ammunition to use against you.”

“As if you would cease your attacks simply because we didn't retaliate,” Merchant replied, her mandibles clacking with irritation. “I suggest you relay our terms to your superiors. I doubt your fellow holy men will find their stay with us very pleasant.”

“Is that intended as a threat?” Alir questioned.

“No. This is the threat: if you delay too long, we might discover how to treat you the way you treat us. I wonder, Grand Priest, what would you taste like if you were refined into a Cultivation elixir? I imagine it would be quite foul.”

The priest gave a soft laugh.

“You are welcome to try, I suppose. I can promise you it is impossible, but the stories of your cruelty would certainly travel far.”

“We are finished. Go.”

Perhaps sensing she would have him forcibly ejected if he stayed, Alir rose. He offered a bow with a hand over his heart before turning to walk out of the warehouse. The moment he disappeared, Merchant began grooming her antennae. Drawing them through her elbow joints provided a soothing rhythm that helped settle her nerves.

“Ugh,” she muttered. “I really need a smoke.”