Michael was one of the first friends Annan had made.
Unable to measure up to the Genius mages at the Mage Tower, he had ended up at Mr. Fast's tavern. Annan's encouragement had eventually helped him pull himself together.
Michael had been with Annan through those awkward early days, so even after their positions changed, Annan had never treated him as a subordinate.
"But I never thought you'd do something like this."
Annan lowered his gaze to Michael, whom the elementals had dragged back, then turned to Francois. "How much did you make?"
"Three hundred and three Gold Narls."
Bound by earth, Michael protested, "I earned every one of those by hitting people over the head with my Staff!"
"Half of them are mine," Francois said, folding his arms and enjoying the spectacle.
"Why did you do it?" Annan asked, baffled.
"You have a Floating City. You wouldn't care about three hundred Gold Narls, and I could use them to keep researching!"
"To keep failing?"
"I didn't fail. I successfully identified a hundred materials unsuitable for alchemical Golden Flame powder!"
Annan thought Michael had a tendency to go to extremes. First he had fallen apart because of a Genius mage, then he had taken up hitting people with his Staff, and now he had buried himself in alchemy... For a Lord, though, that was clearly a good thing.
Bang!
A heavy Money Chest landed in front of Michael.
"What can you do with three hundred Gold Narls? There's a thousand in here. I'll establish an Alchemy Research Institute, with a budget of at least a thousand Gold Narls a month."
To make his point, Annan opened the chest and put a Magic Lamp inside.
The gleaming coins lit Michael's face, bringing the scar on his forehead into sharp relief. Annan