Chapter 75: Chapter 75

“Mr. Figos, please, there’s no need to bow. The news I bring might not be good to hear, as I wish to propose a change to our initial agreement.”

Sokram adopted a hesitant tone, unsure how Figos would receive his new proposition.

“Well, I’m grateful nonetheless.”

Hearing Figos's words and the deflation in his tone, Sokram saw the werecat become slightly wary.

Life had taught Figos there was no such thing as a free lunch, so a change was perhaps expected.

Sokram offered a reassuring smile, the gentle light catching the sincerity in his young eyes, and began to explain.

“Please, just hear me out before you give me an answer, Mr. Figos. The reason I decided to change the proposition is that I made a mistake.”

Sokram scratched the back of his head, feigning embarrassment.

“I underestimated the effectiveness of the methods I used to initiate this change, and it’s working far better than anticipated. It’s only the first week, and you already seem quite overwhelmed.”

Figos nodded in agreement but remained silent, listening intently as Sokram continued.

“My Mom and Astrid even mentioned you requested their help this week for hunting, offering the same terms as our agreement, isn't that right?” Figos nodded, confirming it.

Sokram smiled and nodded, “And that got me thinking, why stop at just one team? Why limit ourselves to just one butchery store…”

At this, Figos’s ears drooped slightly, anticipating that Sokram planned to work with others butchers.

“That’s when, after speaking with my grandmother,” Sokram paused, gesturing towards Margiory, who offered the old werecat a polite smile.

“We came up with this new plan. My grandmother, with the assistance of her partners, the Silverfang, acquired five additional locations. One on each side of the city, and one large building in a quiet area of the merchant district that we plan to adapt part of into a dismantling and storage facility.”

Figos tilted his head slightly to the side, struggling to foresee Sokram’s direction. 'Why is Sokram telling me this?'

His gaze studied the boy in front of him carefully. But then, Sokram’s following words caused the old cat’s eyes to widen dramatically.

“We’d like you to open four new stores,” Sokram continued, watching Figos closely.

"Each one under your name, ‘Figos’s Butchery,’ maybe even ‘Figos’s East Store,’ or ‘North.’ Something people will recognize. We will hire the store clerks for these new locations. You can either continue to manage this original store or focus on the butchering and dismantling of the game we bring in.”

For an instant, Figos’s world seemed to freeze.

Did they want to open five more stores bearing his name?

He found it hard to believe what he was hearing, but Sokram pressed on.

“You would work directly with the teams I’ll be hiring. These teams would be coordinated by my mom and sister. It won’t be a formal guild, but rather a dedicated hunting squad. Perhaps four to six teams. But another crucial need is for you to teach more butchers. We need them to learn from the very best in the city, after all. Someone who knows how to butcher beast meat in a way that preserves the nutrients essential for cultivation…”

Figos’s breath hitched, a sound between a purr and a sob.

‘My name?’ his inner voice screamed, as his mind started to spiral.

At this point, Figos had to raise his hands, signaling Sokram to stop.

Sokram looked at him, hesitation and a fear of rejection clearly visible in his eyes despite his attempt to maintain a confident, businesslike smile.

“You want more butcheries with my name on them? And you want me to train more butchers, too? Like a franchise with my name on it? Is this real?”

Figos’s gaze was intense, his feline features making his expression difficult to read.

Sokram tried to inject confidence into his voice, but the old cat was too stunned to analyze Sokram’s expression deeply.

“Yes, your name has become quite well-known in town already. ‘Figos, the cat that sells amazing cuts and excellent quality meat!’ was the most recent praise I overheard in the market. So it absolutely must be your name, Mr. Figos.”

Seeing that Figos offered neither an answer nor further questions, Sokram continued his explanation.

“Of course, this transition would take a few weeks. But this will require one other thing from you and your family…”

When Sokram mentioned Figos’s family, the cat’s eyes narrowed to slits, and his sharp nails seemed poised to extend.

But then he heard Sokram say, “We need you to move there with your family. Remember that old store where that strange and arrogant merchant from the Western Continent used to sell those ugly carpets? He left the city, and the Silverfang bought the place from him. We’ve now purchased it from them, and that will be the distribution center or your slaughterhouse.”

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Figos exhaled slowly, his claws retracting as he let go of the tension in his shoulders.

For the hundredth time, he reminded himself: Sokram had never given him reason to doubt, consistently treated him with dignity, and was now presenting his dream on a silver platter.

His menacing gaze softened into one of apology.

But Sokram, still slightly nervous, continued speaking, “Only the first floor will be used for the business. The other two floors would be much better utilized by you and your family, this way…”

“I accept, Sokram.” The old cat stood up, cutting Sokram mid-speech, and bowed once more. “Thank you for helping this old cat so much!"

Sokram realized his worries had been unfounded as Figos began weeping tears of joy, his calloused hands cradling Sokram’s scroll like a holy text, the paper crinkling under his grip, repeatedly thanking him and his two grandmothers.

Sokram patted Figos’s trembling shoulder, the werecat’s tears dampening his sleeve.

Margiory and Hannah exchanged glances, their usual sharpness softened by the sight, both trying to conceal the warm, fuzzy feeling that filled their chests.

They didn’t fully understand why Sokram had chosen Figos, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.

The scene unfolding before them was reward enough.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious office within the Steelheart estate, Kazzah and Timothy sat across a desk from Sandra.

She regarded them with a raised eyebrow, her gaze meticulously studying them both, searching for any sign that this might be a setup.

“Let me get this straight. That child, barely fourteen, has convinced the Greyfur, Goldenmane, and Silverfang to join forces merely to drive us out of Eversnow?”

Kazzah nodded confidently, his gaze firm and his eyes clear, trying to show as much certainty as sincerity.

Yet, Sandra continued to scrutinize their faces with intense focus.

“They are planning to sabotage my stables and ruin our reputation in the city, all because the Androny wants a monopoly in Eversnow? But you don’t know the exact details of their plan?"

She leaned over her desk, interlinking her fingers, a brow still slightly raised, but her tone was calm and composed, "And furthermore, the Pavilion and the Androny have joined hands because Lucille intends to marry her daughter to that little lizard? Is this truly the situation?”

Kazzah confirmed once more, “Yes. That is the information we have.”

As she studied the two young men carefully, Sandra silently weighed her options. ‘I see no signs that they are lying, so either this information was fed to them, or it is genuine. Either way, it aligns with what I witnessed today; that little lizard is no simple foe.’

Sandra’s gaze settled on Kazzah, who was clearly taking the lead. “And what do you expect to gain from me by providing this information?” Newest update provıded by novelFirｅ.net

Kazzah held up two fingers. “Because of that lizard, I lost my position as the chosen successor. And I had to stand there and watch him being named the successor of the richest family in Norwinter, right there in my Silverfang estate. A party my grandfather hosted, eating the very boar we had hunted for a great guest, and the guest turned out to be him all along! So, the first thing I want is for that lizard to die. And I am willing to work with you to achieve that. I’m just not killing him myself because he is at least an Uncommon Existence, and he must be cultivating some secret technique.”

She had also noticed that Sokram was a Tier 2, nearly reaching Tier 3, despite having only become Awakened a couple of weeks prior.

“Besides, once he’s dead, you’ll see that their plans will collapse,” Kazzah continued.

“The Androny and the Duchess are only backing this scheme because of him. For some strange reason, they dote on him excessively.”

Sandra leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping against the armrest, her lips curling into something between amusement and disdain.

“And what else do you want, Kazzah? Because I’m dying to know.”

Kazzah smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “We both know that the military is effectively controlled by your family. I was hoping that after you take care of the lizard, you could facilitate Tim and me joining the army. Preferably stationed somewhere far from here, well beyond the influence of the Androny and the Pavilion.”

“Doable,” Sandra conceded, her tone becoming lighter. “But why would I kill the heir of the only family my father explicitly told me not to provoke? You are aware they are the wealthiest family in this country, correct? The Andronys. Besides, do you honestly believe that Semi-Perfect Existence powerhouse, the one not even the King dared to oppose when she marched into his court and declared she would be moving to Eversnow, yes, declared, she certainly didn’t ask...”

With each word, her tone grew sharper, louder, her killing intent becoming increasingly palpable.

“You think she will simply pack up and fly back to Dracony after he dies? No. She will hunt down every single person who held the slightest grudge against him, one by one, regardless of their innocence.”

Kazzah was visibly taken aback by her change in demeanor, as if he were utterly insignificant in her eyes. “I…”

Sandra’s frown deepened, seeing they still hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation.

She released her killing intent freely, the air growing thick and heavy, pressing down on them like a physical weight as the pressure in the room intensified.

“You, nothing. You are nothing! Everything you just told me was information I already possessed! Do you take me for a fool? You want to use me to eliminate your enemy because you are too pathetic to do it yourselves.”

She rose from her seat, enraged that they hadn’t yet fled, and pointed a trembling finger towards the door.

Her voice cracked like a whip.

Kazzah’s chair screeched as he lurched upright, Timothy’s ale sloshing over his trembling hands.

They backed away from her, cold sweat beading on their foreheads, jaws clenched, their hearts thundering with panic.

Their limbs trembled uncontrollably as terror overtook their senses, a painful knot tightening in their stomachs.

They bolted, stumbling over each other and even colliding with servants. Timothy tripped and tumbled down a section of the stairs, Kazzah’s throat closed, his pulse a trapped bird.

Timothy’s knees knocked, "Thud-Thud!" Against the oak floor.

Disoriented, lost, and filled with a dreadful certainty of their impending doom, they scrambled through the entry hall door, unsure if they were even heading the right way.

They rushed out of the Steelheart estate, but just as they were about to reach the gate, Aaron’s voice stopped them.

“Little friends! Wait!”

“Look, we’re sorry! Please, just let us go! We came in good faith, hoping we could help each other, and we honestly don’t want any trouble. Just let us leave, please,” Kazzah begged, the frantic pounding of his heart echoing in his ears.

“Don’t worry, friends.” Adrian raised a hand, subtly casting a dispel over the Fear Illusion Spell his sister had used on them.

He approached them carefully. “You just caught my sister on a bad day. She wasn’t able to see how truly valuable your assistance can be.”

“I’m Aaron nid Steelheart, and this is my brother Adrian.” Aaron extended a hand with his usual polished charm, a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

As the dispel began to work, the raw terror in their eyes gradually faded into wary caution.

“I believe we can genuinely help one another. I can not only facilitate your joining the army but also ensure you get stationed in a location where neither the Androny nor the Pavilion can reach you. How about we sit down and discuss this properly?”