"What is the catch?"
The man eyed Ted with suspicion on his face.
Ted knew there was always a catch. Whether it was a free cup of tea, or a free meal or a large room with nice neighbors, there was always a downside.
Luckily, what he was offering was not even nominally free.
"There is a catch, and I must apologize for not being upfront about it," he said and pretended to check if anyone else was listening to him.
In reality, he was checking that Eknie was present to save him in case of any verbal troubles. He didn't want to be left stuttering about a fee.
"Well, it will be bloody expensive, won't it?" The man in a red waistcoat sighed. "Was nice talking with you, but no thanks."
"The Solar Light Society does collect a small fee. I know…it's a bit much in today's economy."
Ted whispered the exact sum he was using as the selling point for money-minded folk.
The man froze. His frown became even more wrinkly, and his hands gave up on fidgeting with his pocket watch.
Instead, he touched his purse.
"That is not half as bad as I thought it would be," he said. "Did you think I am poor or something?"
"Heavens, no," Ted said. "Frugal, maybe, but paupers do not dress like that."
"Well, then, do I call you cor…"
"Tobias. Please. Or just Ted."
"Ted, my wife would be a better target. But whatever she does, I have to repeat. It would look good if I took the lead for once. How do I sign up?"
Ted pulled Eknie's sleeve to get her to break out the paperwork.
In actuality, she had been listening to the conversation the entire time, Ted knew that. She had merely been pretending to be otherwise occupied in order to maintain a distant exterior. People disliked having many converters or salesmen hound on them at the same time.
Ted and Eknie hunted down plenty of Fireflies that night. They did have to get some sleep, but there was plenty of work to do, such as arranging a ceremony for all the recruits.
20/10 000
That was beginning to look like a good start. As far as Ted knew, that was a fifth of a percent, it sounded less when he put it that way, so he simply thought about it as twenty more than he used to have.
Ted sighed and pulled his blanket over his head. He did not want to wake up to see the cruel light push through the curtains again, but as his cult was even named Solar Light Society, it seemed like he had no other options.
When he was torn back into reality, he felt his chest tighten again and he had to smoke a cigarette while still in bed to gather his thoughts. Ironically enough, the smoke helped him. He considered quitting, as the habit was considered to be bad for the lungs. The last thing he needed was to die from a sickness and end up in a limbo of the sun deity, forever enslaved.
He put on his best clothes and headed to the local seamstress.
They did not use the old methods anymore – instead, even seamstresses needed steam nowadays. The only things that remained from the old age were mourning dresses and other symbols, outfits for the most special of special occasions. Ritual robes were in that category. At least, that was what Ted thought. While he was extremely conscious of his impeccable appearance, his cleanliness and such things, his pressed slacks and his straightened collars did not mean he was an expert on current trends. In fact, many things in fashion escaped him, like the reason why women had given up on showcasing their hipbones. It had been such a beautiful sight to be able to look at the curves and the lumps of said bones poking through the gaps on the loins of fancy dresses. A long tradition of copying whatever northern women did had come to an end. Now, there was simply modification of tropical trends without the blatant favoritism. Ruffles were in, as far as Ted was concerned, and bare skin was out.
When he thought about it for a moment before knocking on the door of the lady, he realized that he was, in fact, more knowledgeable about proper attire than most.
"Cor Tobias," a voice from behind piles of different fabrics greeted him, grating his ears with raspiness that had surely required a fortune in tobacco to achieve. "What can I do for you today?"
"I'm looking for someone who knows how to give a dramatic impression with just a few details," Ted explained without bothering to greet the woman. "I trust your skills."
"I don't know if I have earned that trust, but I can always try again."
The lady threw away a pile of what looked like suit jackets.
She was called Amya, or just Amy for short. She was on the peak of her entrepreneurship, but way past her peak as a woman. Ted did not know what had aged her so badly. She was only thirty years old.
She looked like she was in her fifties.
"Have you heard of my new endeavor?" Ted asked.
"Should I have, cor?" Amy raised her eyebrows and took her foot off the pedal of the steam-powered sewing machine. "There are many rumors going around, I can't be expected to keep track of every last one."
"Oh, Amy, dear, it was not an expectation. It was a question. Perhaps even a suggestion, if you squint your eyes."
Amy laughed. She was not giving him the lustful eyes that most women below his level had for his perfection. She did not cower or slither before him. While Ted did find this attractive, he was repulsed by her appearance and her masculine voice.
"There are rumors going around? About me?" He licked his lips, pretending to be discreet about his microscopic expressions. He wanted to give off the idea that he might give Amy a chance.
"Oh, plenty."
The thought sank into his stomach like a lump of lead.