Don Pedro was laying down in a bed, his vessel literally vibrating with pure, unadulterated wrath the entity exuded. That damned, damned, thrice damned cow! How dare it lay even a single finger on a Department Manager of Regenreich? Next one captured will pay for it, oh yes, he will make it sign the contract, and when it dies, its soul will go straight to the Reich. As Sentient Resources* Manager Don Pedro will give it to R&D Department. That will teach those bloody crossbreeds. Or better yet, to accounting. Going over and over the same row of numbers for eternity or two will be more than enough punishment...
This line of thought was interrupted but his worthless 'son'.
'Ummm... Dad? I have some letters for you.' Don Pedro turned his head towards the Suturer, colourless light escaping around the obsidian glasses. 'First one was brought by this thing.' Suturer put Faustus down on the night table. Don Pedro never learned his son's name, he was not useful enough to bother. HIs fury did not subside when a small barrel of exotic alcohol joined the construct on the table. 'And... Ummm... don't get upset... I know you were not happy about your meeting with Klan Master... But he sends his wishes to you, and this barrel.' Suturer recoiled but nothing happened. His dad was known for being a bit of a choleric, so this was even more terrifying than usual yelling.
Don Pedro has achieved perfect unity with his anger. It was transcendent. So that bastard refuses his help, and now sends him gifts to appease him? Like he is some mortal? Like he could bribe him back to good graces? No. No. NO! Don Pedro kept looking at the Suturer. He did not have the Klan Master. Drazoth was not stupid enough to even allow a situation in which he could be proposed the Pakt. But this will do. This will do fine.
'Son.' He started. The Suturer shook at the seemingly cold tone of voice. It seemed this time he was so angry he went a full circle. 'Can you give me a favour? Sign this.' Don Pedro handed a piece of paper over to the dwarf, who signed it without hesitation. At least this time he did not get chewed out.
Dear D3,
Do not bother with the punishment, I will deal with it in a suitable time myself.
They do not need any specific skills. Just have them sign it, afterwards they will know what to do.
I am mediocre with cyphers, I never bothered quite honest. Regenreich methods of communications are secure enough to not need such things. Unless a message was meant for you, or you are EXTREMELY talented with magic (and even than you are more likely to set the letter on fire) you will not be able to read it. But considering I have nothing better to do I do not mind some mental exercise.
With Kind Regards,
Don Pedro of Regenreich, SRM
Don Pedro held out the letter over the candle flame, and it burst into colourless, smokeless flame, appearing somewhere where his correspondent could find it. If his son managed to bring him Faustus it was not wise to rely on it anymore. Not exclusively anyway.
If you rename Don Pedro's son, and 9 of those recruits, to Intern, I would appretiate it. Have one learn metalcrafting, one mechanics, and one make low quality training spears. Rest can be idle for now.
Lord Klan Master,
The gesture was not needed. The barrel has been returned to the Order.
If you really wish to make me happy send a barrel of Rectified Spirits to the Prime Minister. It will not solve all my problems, but it will be a start.
Like Human Resources manager, but with more variety.
