Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

Malin participated in three battles. The Chaos Priest was the first war trophy. Malin tossed its head to the Baron, and the lame man, holding the head that fell into his lap, was still surprised and confused until Malin told him it was a gift. The Mage then shook his head very awkwardly, "This is not my war trophy, sir, I don’t deserve it."

"No, this is your war trophy. Such things are of no use to me, but for you, the head of a Chaos Priest is enough to obtain a harmless potion recipe from the Church of the Lord of Justice," Malin said with a smile, then tossed another head, that of a fish-person received from the second battle, to the Baron, "What is this thing called?"

"Tide Prophet, a subspecies of fish-people among the Spirits, but they do not belong to the oceanic civilization. They even wage wars against their fellow oceanic creatures, the fish-people. They are lackeys of the Evil God of the Ocean, and also very powerful Casters, Mages like young Mister Raphael wouldn’t be able to deal with them," the Baron explained as a Farolian, who was well-informed about such creatures from the sea. His explanation made Malin nod, "Very good, this is yours now, as a reward for answering my questions."

Baron’s reaction was even more exaggerated as he held the head, "How can this be right? I only said a few words, such a thing could sell for at least a thousand Mowish in the oddities market!"

Mowish? Malin was stunned for a moment before coming to an answer—economy. The Sydney Union is the largest trading partner of the Farol Principality and the guarantor of its independence. In this Principality, Mowish has become the lawful currency people use to trade.

It seems his father-in-law has some capable economic talents under him.

"I do not need that thousand Mowish, but you, I suppose, do. You are already a Baron, don’t you want to go one step further and become a Baron who can pass on his title? And I believe, the head of a fish-person could help you become a Baron, and as for that priest’s head, consider it my gift for your promotion," Malin said with a smile and waited until the distressed-looking Baron caught the last head Malin tossed to the old Mage, who refused it with a Blink.

"You are belittling me, Mister Malin," the old Mage shook his head, "In comparison, I really have no need for such things. As for you, you are still young, even if you own properties in Carterburg, you’ve already given out three gifts. There’s a saying among the Farolians, a Hunter should not enter the forest and return empty-handed."

Malin shook his head with a smile, "I have my own prey. The head of this Chaos Warrior is an investment I make in Raphael. I see in him the virtues a Mage should have—dreams, hope, honesty. Given time, he will be an excellent Mage, and I invest in him today hoping he will achieve his dreams. Like you, Mister Baron, I saw your courage in today’s fight."

At that, Malin turned to the Baron, "Mister, do you still oppose my offer?"