"What is your master's name?" Phil asked, his tone ice cold. He had to be wary of Orin, but it was not sure if he was actually telling the truth, and he didn't like how cocky Orin looked.
"You don't need to know that." Orin replied dismissively, "He doesn't have any bad intentions; rather, he wants me to work with you."
"What do you mean by that?" Phil asked; he didn't like the fact that an 8-year-old was leading this conversation. 'This kid is far from normal; I should be careful,' Phil thought.
"The'soap'—I know how to make it." Orin replied, a smug smile creeping on his lips. Phil and his assistant exchanged glances, their expressions getting serious. They understood the gravity of the matter. "My master taught me how to make soaps."
Phil was dumbstruck; he didn't expect the kid to know how to make that magical thing. 'This kid is smart'. he thought
"So? What about it?" Phil asked. He was curious as to what the kid was about to say next.
"I know how valuable this soap is. These measly 50 gold coins cannot even buy 1/10th of the soap." Orin declared confidently. "I want to partner up with you." He added.
"Why would a disciple of a mage want to partner with a mere mortal? Phil asked, his voice laced with mockery.
"We need a lot of funds to learn magic. I don't have that money, and neither does my master, because he is very reclusive and doesn't deal with worldly matters." Orin explained. Phil's eyes narrowed; whatever Orin was saying was making sense, but he still had to be careful. "How can we trust you?" Phil pressed.
"I am but a mere kid from the slums; what can I even do to you, big shot? If I didn't have the support of my master, do you think I would dare to plan all this and come here?" Orin explained, his words starting to make sense.
"Mere slum kid?' Phil chuckled, "If what you are saying is true, your status is way above our kid." His expression got serious, and he asked, "Can we perhaps meet your'master'?"
"I told you—he is very reclusive and stays away from worldly affairs. I was fortunate enough to encounter him when I was in the forest, and he recognized that I had an aptitude for magic, so he made me his apprentice," Orin explained confidently.
"Hmm..So does that mean you can become a mage too?" Phil asked, his eyes shining with excitement. He saw an opportunity—an opportunity to be acquired with a future mage. Although Orin might be spouting lies, the way he talked so confidently and carried himself with such confidence made Phil believe him to some degree.
"Yes, in the future. However, I'm lacking funds for it, and if we partner up, we can both benefit from each other." He paused for effect. "You will benefit even more," he added.
"How so?" Phil inquired, eager to gauge how much this seemingly insignificant child understood about their potential collaboration.
"You will earn a fortune, prestige, and, best of all, a chance to be friends with a future mage." Orin replied, his expression now becoming stoic, as if he had suddenly become serious.
"Are you sure you can become a mage in the future?" Phil asked skeptically.
"Yes, hundred percent." Orin lied confidently. To make a lie sound believable was an art in itself, and Orin was pretty skilled in it. He knew that just having funds would no way make him a mage. If having money made you a mage, then many people in the town might have already been mages and not just people from the temple. He knew that, yet he still wanted to earn money because of the better quality of life, resources, and better access to knowledge that he wasn't aware of prior. He hoped to find clues about magic through such means. Also, being rich meant that he might get a chance to talk to the mages from the temple.
Those elusive mages never truly mingled among the commoners, except for the rich people, that too once in a blue moon. "Alright. You convinced me." Phil replied. Even if Orin didn't become a mage in the end, Phil still saw the potential in their partnership, and he didn't see any glaring cons. "So, what is your business plan?" Phil added.
"It's simple, really. I make the soap, and you sell it. I get 55% cut from the profit, and you get 45%. And again, a reminder: I only make the soap. You have to collect the materials, publicize them, and sell them to the general public," Orin said, his expression still stoic as ever.
"Alright, that seems like a fair deal." Phil replied thougtfully, "How many'soaps' do you have with you?" He asked.
"Not much, just a few. But I think those will be enough to advertise it before mass producing." Orin replied. He truly only had a few left. He had made 10 soap bars, and from it, three of them were in the hands of Hannah''s family, and one was with his dad.
"Sounds good; when can you provide them?"
"Today, if time allows. I can't roam around in the slums at night. It's not safe even for me," Orin replied quickly.
"How much can you mass produce at a later date—let's say after we publicize it?"
"Depends on how many resources you provide me. Also, soap cannot be made in a day; it requires a lot of time and patience." Orin replied and paused for a bit. "I want to make it a luxurious product for now—before we have enough funds to start a new product," he added.
"Another product? What do you mean by that?" Phil asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.
"That I will tell when the time comes." Orin said cryptically. "For now, let's focus on the soap. And I don't think I can provide you with the soap today, because the night is near." He explained.
"Also, a little reminder—don't even think about taking advantage of me or forcing the recipe out of me. My master wouldn't tolerate some random mortal trying to exploit his student, let alone let them steal his precious recipe. So keep that in mind," Orin said, trying to sound as threatening as possible.
Phil chuckled but didn't say anything. Their whole exchange only lasted for about 15 minutes, and night was getting near. So, they said their goodbyes, and Orin left swiftly from their residence.
"Interesting kid."