A cold wind blew through the open door. The fire in the hearth flickered out, plunging the room into gloom.
A level 37 practitioner... a devil... Count Shuesterm suddenly felt hot. He tugged at his collar, and the biting wind slipped through the gap, chilling him to the bone.
"Don't be nervous. I'm an honest, kindhearted devil. I follow the teachings of the Lady of Wealth and maintain absolute neutrality. I don't share other devils' nasty habit of taking pleasure in tormenting people. I'm only interested in Gold Coins. The kind forged from souls, I mean. Blow on one, and you can hear a soul's beautiful wail. It's marvelous." Yarlin, dressed in dark clothes, took a Gold Coin from his pocket.
He held the coin to his lips and blew gently.
The next instant, a shriek pierced Count Shuesterm's soul.
It sounded like fingernails scraping glass. A numb, tingling sensation spread through his heart and bones.
"I forgot. Humans below a certain level aren't used to hearing such beautiful sounds."
Forgot? You did that on purpose... Count Shuesterm trembled involuntarily. The pain that shriek had caused felt carved into his bones; remembering it alone drained his strength.
He took two deep breaths in secret and forced himself not to think about the sound. Then he looked at Yarlin and asked quietly,
"What do you really want from me?"
Yarlin parted his lips, revealing eight gleaming white teeth. "Where there's war, there I am. I'm Yarlin, the War Merchant. Your Majesty, would you be interested in my wares?"
A War Merchant? Count Shuesterm was at a loss. He had heard of slave traders and Plane merchants, but what was a War Merchant? A mercenary?
So he asked,
"Do you mean you're a mercenary?"
"Mercenary services are only one part of my