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“Yes.”

“Okay...” While leaning into one hand, the man used his other to rap his fingers on the tabletop.

“... What’s your answer?” Jarrit asked, showing his usual calm and confidence.

But the man said nothing. He took some time to think in silence, not bothering to even look back at Jarrit or anyone else. Eventually, the man sighed and sat back up with his former, friendly grin.

Without a word, the man took out a quill and a piece of parchment. But both items were unusual and nothing like the others at the table expected them to be. The quill pen was made of a crystalline glass that shimmered in the light. It still had the shape of a large feather but was carefully crafted to resemble a hollow glass plume. And that hollow space was filled with an ethereal blue ink of some sort. The parchment itself was also eye-catching, seemingly being crafted from some sort of scaly leather that they had never seen before.

The man cared not for their reactions. He was busy writing in a language that didn’t seem like a language. At times he seemed to write with some semblance of an alphabet, but he filled parts with glyphs and pictograms as well. As the ink settled into the parchment it glowed subtly from the essence carefully dripping out of the man’s hand.

.....

Once the parchment was nearly filled, the man held out the quill and finally looked back to Jarrit. “Sign it.”

“What–”

Before Vloz could question what was happening, Jarrit had already snatched the glass quill. In but a second, Jarrit imitated the man’s actions with the quill, carefully adding a hint of essence to the ink as his name was signed across the bottom.

“Add a drop of blood.”

Jarrit followed the order without question. The old mage retrieved a pin with an ornate emblem adorning one end, the emblem of the Trighton Institute Dean. Then, he pricked his right ring finger and let a drop of blood fall onto his signature.

The hungry lettering immediately devoured the blood. Jarrit’s signature turned purple and glowed brighter all of a sudden, and the rest of the contract began to do the same.

“It’s settled.” Taking back his quill and the signed parchment, the man extended his hand to the old mage. “I’m glad to have such a capable man under my employ.”

Returning the gesture, Jarrit sighed with eagerness, “So, how long will I be working under you?”

“That depends. There’s an extended option in that contract for you to accept lifelong servitude in exchange for greater treatment and privileges. But we’ll cross that bridge after your first thousand years of service.”

Vloz was wide-eyed. Ania was slack-jawed. Puula was frozen stiff. None of them fully grasped what had just occurred until it had already been settled.

“I like your confidence. Also, having you as a personal assistant will make things a little easier for me. It will let me travel more freely and save plenty of time. So the more powerful you get, the better.” While saying that, the quill and contract were quickly replaced with a purple core and an ancient scroll. “Here. This should do the job.”

Accepting them without hesitation, Jarrit was already reading the scroll within the first second. “Strands of Space Technique... This–”

“There’s no need to thank me. You earned that with your own merit and decision making,” added the man. “Now it’s your job to make sure neither of us regrets this decision.”

“You can count on me, Master!” Shouting with childish glee, Jarrit was on the verge of tears as he gripped the core and technique with loving care. “What should I call you–”

“We’ll discuss that in private, Jarrit. For now, we’re still enjoying our meal,” replied the man, returning his attention to the half-empty plate.

“Of course!”

Both the man and Jarrit happily finished their food, with Jarrit scarfing down everything with gut-wrenching speed. The others finished as well but their appetites had already left them.

Of the three, Ania was the first to give in to her instincts and shout, “Don’t tell me you forced Oli to–”

“He signed no such contract, nor will he ever do so,” claimed the man, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin from his void ring. “There’s no need to worry. I see my deal with Oli as a fifty-fifty offer, with both of us accomplishing something of equal value.”

“He’s doing something as great as reviving Dioro?!! WHAT–”

“Ania. How many times must I remind you to calm down? That isn’t how a good host should act,” jested the man.

“And normally someone would at least warn a child’s parents before taking them away for training, else they might be blamed for kidnapping!”

Nodding and smiling with a chuckle, the man showed his eyes to Ania yet again. “While I can’t argue that a great cause can justify a tragic means of accomplishment, I do believe I’m being more than fair.”

“But–”

“Ania.”

“... But what could be so important that only a mortal gorilla could accomplish and not you?” Ania questioned, pausing for half a second to adjust her tone of voice.

“A great question. I can’t–”

“Why can’t you tell me what he needs to do? If it’s a fair deal, then why don’t you tell us what your goals and plans really are?”

The man broke out into abrupt yet gentle laughter, catching Ania off guard. “Sorry. But you can’t yet fathom my goals at this time. Perhaps in the future, we’ll be able to discuss that further. But for now, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed by my need for secrecy.”

“Why can’t you–”

“You don’t even know who I am or what my name is. So how can you grasp what my true aims are without even that tiny amount of information?” reasoned the man. “At some point, Oli will learn the truth and he’ll be welcome to mention a few things as time passes. But for now, trust me. That’s the only hope for your survival. Eventually, you’ll have the opportunity to appreciate my help, as might your husband.”