Siblings Reincarnate as Enemies

Chapter 42 – In which Ver questions the power of names

A few hours before Perlliar and Cotteo, the two priests of the Temple of Forgotten and Dead Gods, watched the sunrise.

Vern completed the last of the transactions.

He smiled with satisfaction.

There were some accidents during the first three transactions, but later customers had some sanity left and didn’t try to kill him considering how he survived three other attacks without a noticeable scratch.

After seven major power players of Rubrun all completed their transactions, the exchange started to become more enjoyable to Vern.

What came after the seven representatives were mages, who were of much simpler kind.

Some of them were shy, unsure if the research they brought would satisfy ‘Mr. Crow’, while others were convinced they were sharing breathtaking findings with him, even though Vern could say that they were nothing special.

Still, he accepted every one of them with a happy expression.

He was a firm believer that any knowledge was priceless.

And if everything is priceless, then everything should be shared equally and without restrictions.

What he was doing now went against those ideas, but Vern understood that to break the system, you need to be able to exploit it and pierce the loopholes in it first.

Later, if he had a chance, he would share all this knowledge he gathered with everyone.

When the last exchange ended and he said goodbyes to a mage, who quickly rushed out (it seemed that the disappearance of the first three patrons made people make some unsettling assumptions), Vern made the Spiritual Messenger withdraw to its straw bird form and leave the Magic Exchange’s venue.

He planned to make it fly far away and then explode, destroying any potential connection to him.

As for the research he got in exchange for his spell formula, he put them all in the magic pocket gem, which he left in the exchange room for Crimo and Sangria to pick up later.

He was sure they saw it, as the spy circle he found before the exchange started, when he quickly surveyed the room for any problems, was active (he left a little bug spell on this circle to know when it activates).

Actually, he was a bit annoyed, because the spy circle was put in the far best corner of the room, which led the viewer to observe the entire scene, while remaining practically hidden if someone didn’t look for it directly.

Vern wanted to use it, but it was a pity.

‘The owner’s right I suppose.’

He sighed and then canceled his own spy circle, which he placed in a less best corner of the room.

Only then he realized how much his body hurt from remaining in the same uncomfortable position for so long.

The Spiritual Messenger's projection followed the movements of the user, so when carrying out the transactions he needed to sit as nonchalantly as possible, while remaining dignified and mysterious looking.

But Vern’s natural sitting position was anything but that.

To quote Saf, he resembled ‘a dry twig propping against other branches’.

Vern could never quite understand that, as he found that ‘dry twig’ position most comfortable, but no one seemed to be willing to believe him.

Even Am, who was usually the most tolerable to his siblings’ antics, mumbled while looking at his older brother spread on the chair ‘maybe it’s a bird thing’.

All in all, Vern spent a few hours in a very uncomfortable position, so he was spent.

He just dropped to the ground and splayed out on the floor like some sort of dead creature.

Then his eyes met the eyes of a companion who spent the last few hours with him, observing all of it, over his shoulder.

“What is your name actually?”

“Cuprit.”

“Ah, I see… Is your health very fragile?”

“It’s… Sir, why are you suddenly asking about my health?”

“Your name is Cuprit. So I was wondering if you’re fragile on mind or body, or both.”

“…”

The kid, who was looking down at Vern, while Vern was looking up at him as he was laying on the floor, frowned and his lips twisted slightly in annoyance.

“I may not be physically fit, but it has nothing to do with my name. The name doesn’t shape my life or me.”

It seemed that Vern’s companion wasn’t too fond of the name esoterics.

Before Vern would agree, but now that he was living for a second time, he couldn’t dismiss it so easily.

His old name was Vermillian after vermilion, the color of rebirth.

Even his new name ‘Vern’ seemed to take roots from it, even though it tactfully hid most of it, considering that naming someone after ‘His Reverence Vermillian’ would be a sign of the highest hubris, even if one to be named such was a son of the Archmage.

Besides, Vern wanted to believe that names have some power in them, because that would mean that his siblings also may be here.

Saffron was a spice that was said to bring life and even wake up the dead.

Amaranth was a flower that meant immortality in the flower language.

Those were the roots of his siblings’ names.

“… Yeah, I suppose it’s stupid of me to believe in names.”

Vern quietly agreed after a few seconds of silence.

Cuprit looked at him for a second and then asked:

“Sir, are you alright?”

“… Hm? Yeah, I just need a moment to loosen up my muscles. I’ll get up in a moment.”

“Is that so…?”

Cuprit’s face looked doubtful, but then it disappeared as he asked:

“Sir, can I ask why you are doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you sell that spell to all of those people? Isn’t this spell precious? If you get a patent on it, you could make much more money out of it.”

“I could, assuming that I could survive having such a patent. Earlier or later I would have to submit to some bigger power for protection.”

“… That’s true.”

“Besides, even if I could survive having such a patent, I wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t matter if I benefit from it later or not. Sharing knowledge seems more important to me.”

“So this is why you agreed to exchange with anyone for anything? Some of that research was practically worthless.”

Vern blinked, then smirked.

“Huh, I didn’t expect you to be a magic practitioner.”

“I’m not. I… I just picked up some things while working here.”

“I see, so an illegal practitioner.”

Cuprit just glared at him.

In Rubrun, even though it was overflowing with magic, the mages population wasn’t that big.

That is because magic teachings were heavily sanctioned and magic manuals were heavily controlled.

If one wanted to learn magic, their best shot was signing a life-bond contract with one of the guilds and praying to everything but not gods (you don’t want Purplus terrorists to go after you) that they won’t think of you as worthless and dispose of you.

Magic was something that anyone could learn, but they needed the environment for it.

Looking over the shoulder as mages made some sloppy presentations to sell their products and guild wasn’t the environment a complete beginner could learn magic from.

Cuprit didn’t strike Vern as rich. No, rather, looking at the neat but worn-down uniform, he had every reason to believe that the kid lived a harsh life and climbed here through a thorny path.

He wouldn’t have money to buy expensive magic lessons.

Vern didn’t know how he learned magic, but none of the options he could come up with were pretty.

But even if Cuprit had some understanding of magic, if he revealed any inclinations of it, he would be immediately hunted down by guilds.

The only reason why he let down his guard here was probably because he saw Vern play with the guild masters and turn them into fools.

From that it would be clear that Vern didn’t have much respect for the guilds.

Though, if it was Vern, he wouldn’t let down his guard even in such a situation.

This kid may be too easy.

Vern looked at Cuprit again and fell into thoughts.

Illegal magic practitioner...

Not well off...

Fragile health…

Someone Vern already put in trouble once...

“I decided. I’m adopting you.”

“What?”

Cuprit looked at Vern spread out on the floor with the most absurd face he probably could muster.

“Sir. I’m twenty seven. You can’t adopt me. I’m an adult.”

The kid appeared a bit older than Vern initially assumed, but it didn’t matter.

“Time and adulthood are subjective. And I’m adopting you.”

*~*~*