act17mini

Consultant!

Consultant?!

Who's the Djall?

Oh, don't mind me, I'm just...

...I'm the Consultant's assistant! I'm here to help him take minutes.

Yeah, my wrist's been hurting lately. You could take her place, if you have problem with it.

Oh, I forgot, you can't read.

Well, everyone's here. Let's get started... unless someone has something important to do.

Not at all. We're all waiting on you to decide how to split the piece of iron.

The cloth over it is pulled away, stirring up a cloud of dust. Nymph covers her nose with the back of her hand and squints at what lay underneath.

It is a large rock that has been touched by fire and smoke, with broken Originium pieces scattered across the surface. Underneath the cracked exterior are honeycomb-shaped rust marks.

The woman, whom the others called Ebony, takes out a screwdriver and pries a small piece of rust from the crack. Light shines through the smoke upon it, reflecting a faint blue glow.

The device on Nymph's wrist trembles, as though it just felt a chill.

Looks like there's a fair bit of Oriron. Is this it?

I think so...

(*whispers*) But Ermi said the detector would sound an alarm. Why is it quiet?

The Oriron extracted from a piece this big could feed you all for a month. But who's going to extract it? All these little Originium bits on it are like mini-bombs, if not properly processed.

Some of my guys had an ironworking shop on the Columbian frontier.

You'll roast it like you roast your potatoes?

Shut the *Sarkaz expletive* up if you don't know what you're talking about. I can always cut it up before processing it.

That won't work. The Originium fragments are unstable. They could go off at any time.

We've done business with the furnace node manager over by the western wall. Should we ask him?

Didn't you understand? The fragments are unstable. You think he would risk blowing up his furnace?

Don't forget where the fireworks last night came from. If the big shots catch you, whether it's the Military Commission—

Or the Liches, who have a slightly grim opinion of you fellas—

You know what's gonna happen. Not my problem if it's just your own graves that you're digging, but not when you might leave the rest of us starving.

Is there no place in Kazdel that would take it? You're not telling us to send it back where it came from, are you?

You're getting ahead of yourself, Ebony. We haven't gotten the Oriron out yet. Besides, just because no one will take it in Kazdel doesn't mean no one will take it out there.

Some smugglers will do anything, no matter how dangerous. You might take a hefty haircut on it, but it's better than leaving it to rot in your hands.

How big of a haircut are we talking?

How should I know? It's not my area of expertise. This is what I do as a consultant: I tell you how to cut the cake fairly, but I'm never the one to actually cut it.

How can we be sure the difference won't end up in your pocket?

What are you saying, Beck? Apologize to the Consultant, now!

To him? I don't understand why you're so polite with this guy. Have things been peaceful for so long that you forgot where you should be pointing your blade?

I say he's in league with the noble masters up in the towers. He makes it so we don't get to fight or eat, so we end up fixing the walls for them!

Why would he help the Head-Sellers take my turf? I've lived in Kazdel since the day I was born. Why should I give my house to some slugs who haven't set foot here in decades?

Draw your blade. Nobody's gonna say I killed an unarmed man.

*Sarkaz expletive*, give it a rest, both of you! You can fight it out yourselves once we've got the food.

Put your blades down, NOW!

Ahem. I guess someone forgot what my job is.

I just give advice. You decide to take it or not.

I know a few smugglers, but let's just say it'd take some credit for them to handle such a hot potato.

Sorry about Beck, Consultant. He's still young...

I'm not that old either, Ebony.

I know some of you don't trust me and think that I am where I am thanks to luck alone. That's fine.

We listen to you because you know your stuff. A full belly doesn't lie. Only greedy fools...

Beep! Beep!

Everyone looks in the direction of the noise to see the Djall, who claims to be the Consultant's assistant, reaching out to the piece of iron with a strange box.

She almost has it.

Beep—Beep—

Beep!

Oh, crap, the timing...

What are you doing?! Get your hand off our Oriron!

*Sarkaz expletive*, almost let you sneak it out under my nose!

What's the deal, Consultant?

I've got the door. They're not getting out.

Your rules say the penalty for stealing in this room is a lost hand, Consultant. You pick, Djall. Left or right?

She's not stealing. I asked her to... measure the Oriron content in the rock.

Uh, that's right! It's so high, it made my detector go haywire!

Be careful. I didn't hire you to give me a heart attack.

S-Sorry.

I'm not sure I believe you, <i>Consultant.</i> You think we aren't watching you?

It's one thing to help the Head-Sellers; at least they're sticking their necks out. But working with the tower-dwellers? That's another beast.

Why would a Djall girl in a pretty dress like that work as your assistant?

These are old clothes from my mom and dad. I just cut them to fit me...

That has nothing to do with what we're talking about today. The more important thing here is how we turn this piece of iron into food, isn't it?

How about this, I'll get someone willing to go over the walls to bring some food and take away this ticking time bomb, and then you can take your time to figure out how to share the food.

I changed my mind. Food's gone once you eat it. I want blades, Oriron! Oriron, and one hand from this thief. Do we have a deal?

Can you extract the Oriron?

I won't ask about your connections, Beck. You want the piece of iron, you can have it, but you got to supply our share of the food. Do the Broken Horns have that much food?

Didn't the Consultant call this a time bomb? You want food from me when I'm helping you solve a problem?

It fell in our yard. Food or Oriron, the Veteran's Home takes the biggest share.

Hah! Those streets belong to Broken Horns! You don't even get leftovers!

We'll follow the Consultant's rules. Everyone here gets a share. The mercenaries get an additional share to repair their roof.

Why does HE get to set the rules? Why not me?

Don't think for a second that we're scared of the Broken Horns, Beck.

You'll be arguing for the next hundred years at this rate. If the Broken Horns want this iron so much, they can have it.

Consultant...?

Let me finish. Any damages resulting from mishandling by the Broken Horns will also be Beck's responsibility.

Hmph.

As for the rest of you, whether it's food or Oriron you want, I'll take care of it. Consider it an apology for the little commotion just now. You can come get your share once I've figured out the amount.

Not for free, of course. My pockets aren't that deep. Any firework pieces that fell on your turf, you bring to me, no matter how big or small.

Don't be so short-sighted. The Liches may not be roaming the streets day after day now, but they're always watching us. Make sure you understand what you're allowed to take, and what you shouldn't even go near.

No objection. I picked up a lot of small pieces, but they're too small to be anything useful.

How does this work? How much food and Oriron can we get for the pieces?

Excuse me, I have an idea... the amount of Oriron can be calculated from the purity, but I'll need to take another measurement, since I got interrupted.

It would be best if I could take a small sample.

Pohl looks at Nymph with bewilderment in his eyes, but nods his head. The others give way for Nymph to take her peculiar hand-box to the cracked 'piece of iron'.

She takes out a strange rod and knocks on the surface lightly. A small, dull-colored piece falls out from inside.

Nymph's box opens slowly, sucking the piece in. When the box closes, everyone in the room feels compelled to look to the window.

The skies are still dark, but the light shining in seems to have gotten brighter and warmer.

Whew... done.

Write your choice of supplies and your name on the paper, and come back in three days. You know where to find me.

Doesn't matter if you can't write, Beck. You got the whole piece of iron; you're not getting anything else from me.

And I'll deal with the territorial dispute between the mercenaries and the Broken Horns, same day, next month. All of you better show up.

Here's the paper, just like you wanted, Consultant.

Anything else? Alright, you can get back to your own lives now.

Thank you so much, Consultant. You're really a huge help.

Ah, it's nothing. I've crossed paths with that Lich lady before, after all. It's the least I could do.

And please... call me Pohl.