When Merrywick strode out of the gateway to the Stadia, he noticed his transport to sector-4 still outside in the parking space. The driver was unwinding on a concrete bench nearby, smoking a cheap cigarette.
His brows jumped when Merrywick reappeared in front of him, casting a shadow over his face.
"So fast? Done with the business inside?" the man said.
Merrywick shrugged. "It went one of the ways how I thought it might. Would've preferred some other, more peaceful way, though."
The man's eyebrows climbed higher up on his forehead. Somewhat nervous, he asked, "You... didn't cause any trouble inside, did you?"
"No, no, no," Merrywick said, waving both his concern and the cigarette smoke off.
"I know my limits. This isn't a place I can cause trouble in."
A brief moment of pregnant silence passed between them, and the driver seemed to come to the decision that nobody would be this relaxed after causing trouble with anyone influential inside sector-4, least of all a kid.
"Alright. So why are you here? Need a ride back to the inner city?" the man finally said in a gruff tone.
"You're gonna have to wait a couple minutes, then. I've been driving without a break for 7 hours until now. Gotta let the body and mind leave the wheels for a bit."
"No problem," Merrywick replied. "I'll be sitting in the car."
Then he copied the exact mannerisms of the driver to pat the man on the shoulder, face dead serious.
"But whatever you do to relax, don't smoke. It's bad for you, both physically and mentally. I just came out of a hospital. Some of the patients there are paying millions of Sables for the treatment of their destroyed inner organs. Some of them loved this shitty brand you're smoking too."
The driver looked at him in stunned silence for a moment before chuckling derisively.
"Oh, I see where this is coming from. You didn't appreciate that advice I gave ya, yeah? Don't get so worked up, young man. That was entirely out of my goodwill. Didn't have an idea that was gonna trigger your spirits."
Merrywick laughed back, saying, "I could say the same thing. But I have a different reason for trying to shove unwanted advice down your ears. You see, I am a man of God, and I couldn't stand a good man like yourself sinning so casually in front of me."
The driver's face grew cautious as he leaned back a couple of inches on the bench. It was a well-warranted reaction to meeting a nutcase, especially of the religious sort.
"Which Church? Lord Sunbreaker?" the man asked.
Merrywick shook his head and refused to elaborate. Instead, he walked over to the car and took his seat while running his fingertips on the comcell screen on his wrist.
Soon, a voice call was sent from his device, connecting him to the source of the problem.
Lady Eyreen did not pick up his call. Instead of frustration, Merrywick found it rather humorous that his suspicion was confirmed just like that.
"No matter. You're not that important, either way," he muttered while choosing a different contact to call. To solve this issue from the root, he needed to use a more roundabout route.
After five attempts, Alfie Declan picked the call up.
"Oh, hey, Merrywick...You need something, bro?"
The young man's speech sounded unsteady and slow, lacking in the usual aristocratic mannerisms. A distinct tone of annoyance was perceptible too. Perhaps the last evening's private party had featured some hard inebriating substances.
"Where are you?" Merrywick asked.
"In my apartment. Why?"
"Link me up with your parents' contact ID, would you, Lord Declan?" Merrywick said, skipping the formalities.
The strange request seemed to stun the young man. He uttered several indistinct syllables before mumbling, "Why, though?"
"Business matters. I'm in sector-4 right now, and let's say I've come across some developments that your parents would be interested in."
"Then you only need my father's ID. My mother doesn't handle-"
"I'd like to speak to both of them," Merrywick said insistently.
Even more confused, Alfie Declan took several minutes to send him the ID links. Had he not been intoxicated, he might have put up a bit more resistance to the idea, asking better questions. Fortune, however, was on Merrywick's side.
Merrywick ignored the Earl's ID and sent another call. This one was picked up almost immediately.
"...."
No sounds, not even a greeting came from the other side.
"If this is Lady Declan, could you please pass the device over to the Earl?"
A cold voice replied, "Where did you get this ID?"
"Only your husband, the Earl can answer this, my lady," Merrywick answered, doing his best to copy the etiquette commoners needed to abide by.
"What would your identity be?" the woman asked in reply.
"Lehmann is my full name, my lady. I'm a 'worker' inside the Stadia, on sector-4," Merrywick answered.
The emphasis on the word 'worker' seemed to do the trick. The sounds of Lady Declan walking continued for a while before a sudden boom was transmitted through the audio.
"Why does your business associate have my personal contact ID?" If the voice she had used with Merrywick was cold, her current tone was practically icy. He could almost sense a freezing glare being directed towards the Earl on the other side of the call.
The Earl chose to assess the situation first, quickly picking up the comcell.
"Who would you be?" he asked in a confused tone.
They really were husband and wife, Merrywick couldn't help but muse. Even their speech pattern was similar.
"Hello?" the Earl spoke again upon not getting an immediate reply.
"I did not consent to a semi-forceful recruitment process, my lord. And what was that test even supposed to achieve, exactly?" Merrywick said.
"...What?" The Earl's confusion grew even higher.
"My name is Merrywick, Lord Declan."
A second later, the connection was cut off. Sure enough, if he had tried to contact the Earl directly, he wouldn't have made it past the introduction phase. But having the Earl's wife's comcell be the medium of their contact would make a solid impression. The Earl would be curious to know why he had chosen this roundabout method. He would begin to suspect that Merrywick knew...
Merrywick leaned on his seat and closed his eyes, sinking deep in his thoughts. As expected, within a couple minutes, his comcell received an incoming call, this time from an unknown ID. The moment he accepted the call, the Earl's steady voice was transmitted over.
"Good morning, Mr. Merrywick. My apologies for hanging up earlier. Could you please explain what you said just then? What test are you talking about?"
"Earl Declan, it would be too presumptuous of a commoner like me to think that a man of your stature could actively scheme to cause me harm. So I shall put the burden of the scheme on Lady Eyreen, your son's bodyguard. Now, I understand that to ensure your child's bright, safe future, you would test his current associates and potential allies. But to allow the test to happen this way is quite excessive, in my humble opinion."
"...I still have no idea what you're trying to say, Mr. Merrywick. I only know your name because my son told me he was attending your parents' funeral yesterday evening."
"I'm going to interpret the reply as a request to elaborate on how I learned that you are the person behind this arrangement on the Stadia, my lord. It's actually very simple.
Mr. Galloway, the guide who was supposed to be the first catalyst in my test, revealed that he knew which grade my Progression System is in order to convince his boss to reconsider me as a potential recruit for something secret.
But the person who introduced me to Galloway was Lady Eyreen, whom I had met just yesterday while your son was trying to recruit me.
If Lady Eyreen got to learn that I have a silver rank system from your son, then she also must know that I am a candidate your son wishes to recruit to his cohort of close associates in the world of magic. Since Lady Eyreen understands this, then she could not possibly dare to send such trouble my way on the very first act of partnership I attempted with your son. The way I see it, even if you didn't know the details, you should be aware that she would lay a trap for me here on sector-4.
If this doesn't constitute a test of some sort, could you explain what else it might be?
Of course, this is only one of the factors that convinced me that the meeting was a setup. The very first bigshot I'm taken to meet inside the Stadia happens to be an expert on trackers, and coincidentally, I happen to have a few on my body! However, if we push out the possibility of this being a coincidence, then who could have arranged this meeting? That would be the person who sent me here, Lady Eyreen.
But how could she be aware of the fact that I have trackers on my body? She's just a bodyguard of a son of an aristocratic family. She may not have an information network vast enough to know, but her employer, on the other hand, does have that capability, the authority to learn of the latest secret news in the circle of Aristocrats."