Chapter 914
Wildfire
Chapter 914 Wildfire
Ilari stood frozen in place, Paul's words swirling in his mind like a spell.
A complex mix of overwhelming flattery, ignited ambition, and a fear of betraying Brolin churned violently within him.
While Iraq was still in a daze, his assistant Paul turned and said:
"Of course, if you decline the offer from the lord and choose to follow Mr. Brolin, I can understand and sincerely admire your loyalty."
He bowed slightly.
Ilari opened his mouth, his fear vanished, but a sense of loss suddenly welled up inside him.
He said nervously, "I...I'm not...I need to think about it."
Assistant Paul gave an understanding smile: "Then I will wait for your reply."
Logically, the conversation should have ended by now.
Illari stared longingly at the assistant, waiting for him to say goodbye.
But Assistant Paul turned to look at the puppet beside him and said, "It's an exquisite creation. To be honest, I thought I would see stitches or joints in the materials on it."
Just moments ago, Illari was tense and uneasy, but suddenly it was as if a switch had been flipped, and her speech became fluent:
“Traditional alchemy does have similar practices… Of course, I’m not saying we would sew them together with needle and thread, but that there would be a very clear dividing line when different materials are joined together.”
"However, what makes these golems unique is that about 70% of their skin is made of active clay... I also mixed three kinds of mineral powder into the clay, and the transformation charm must be applied in one smooth motion..."
"But the hardest part is instilling ideas. You have to give them some thoughts, but not too many, otherwise no one knows what will happen. I once created a guy who wanted to commit suicide..."
Illari was completely absorbed in explaining alchemy and did not notice the fleeting look of satisfaction on Paul's face behind his glasses.
"So these puppets are all your creations, right?" Paul asked. "I don't hear any indication that Mr. Brolin contributed anything to this process."
Illari blushed and stammered, "Well... Mr. Brolin certainly helped a lot too... for example, he provided all the materials..."
He was too embarrassed to answer the first question.
Assistant Paul hadn't paid much attention to this. Sensing an opportunity, he immediately asked, "So, besides the materials, he didn't even provide sufficient compensation? I can't believe it!"
Illari looked at him, blinking blankly.
"Well...we Purifiers don't get paid. We're all united by our ideals and beliefs..."
Of course, Ilari was usually provided with food and lodging by the organization, and he was also a seasoned homebody, so as long as he had enough alchemical materials, there was nothing he needed to spend money on.
When other members needed to go out, Brolin or Thorne were not stingy with the activity expenses, and even taxi fares and cigarette purchases could be reimbursed.
Their financial situation suddenly became precarious when the IRS came knocking on the doors of most of the companies controlled by the purgers.
In fact, many members of the Purge have normal jobs in society that are enough to support them, so they are only contacted when the organization needs them.
Illari knew all this, but in the eyes of his assistant Paul, he felt like he and the other purgers were some kind of number one fool.
"So... do you know exactly how much money Brolin made thanks to the conveniences provided to him by the Purifiers?" Paul asked slowly.
Illari asked cautiously, "Is it... a lot?"
“Of course… a lot.” The man in front of him seemed reluctant to discuss specific numbers, quickly shifting the topic to alchemy, Ilari’s favorite subject:
“How can these creatures distinguish whose orders they should obey?” Paul asked. “I see that sometimes they obey Mr. Brolin, and sometimes they obey yours.”
"That's right, there's a contract magic."
Illari said somewhat absentmindedly, "Each puppet can contract with two or even more masters at the same time; that's how it's designed."
“Mr. Brolin is naturally to be their master, but I… I am their creator and maintainer, so Mr. Brolin has specially allowed me to also establish a contract with them.”
Assistant Paul was even more surprised. He pushed up his glasses, which were about to slip off, and looked at Illari.
Although he didn't say anything, Ilari felt even worse.
Because the other person's eyes were clearly saying, "You work hard for others, creating things yourself, and in the end, you still have to beg them for the right to credit you?"
Iraqi: "..."
The logic seems to be correct, but why did they all think there was no problem before the other party pointed it out?
Seeing Illari's expression, as if he had stepped in dog poop, his assistant Paul considerately shifted his gaze and asked:
"Could you add new allies to these puppets? For example... Sir William Stonefield, Mr. Brolin's collaborator?"
Illari said in a muffled voice, "...Okay. I need a piece of parchment with the knight's signature on it."
"Please wait."
Assistant Paul hurriedly left the room.
Iraqi paused for a moment, then suddenly realized—
That gentleman is in the manor right now!
He simply didn't want to see Mr. Brolin, so he had his assistant lie and say he was in a meeting.
[...The person we really want to work with is you, not Yodl Brolin.]
The words of his assistant Paul echoed in his ears, and suddenly they seemed more credible.
—Yes, Mr. Brolin may be the leader of the Purifiers, but all his men have been killed. What kind of leader is he?
Moreover, that person is cunning, ruthless, merciless, and driven by self-interest; cooperating with him always carries the risk of betrayal.
But I am different.
Illari thought proudly, "All I need is alchemy; I won't fight for power or make overly greedy demands."
I am indeed a better collaborator.
His heart pounded.
The werewolf puppet, with its arms crossed and leaning against the wall, tilted its head and observed Illari's ever-changing expression, finding it quite interesting to try and guess what he was thinking.
Suddenly hearing footsteps approaching, the werewolf puppet immediately straightened up and stood to the side like a wooden figure.
Then Paul pushed open the door and came in, holding a fine piece of parchment in his hand, which was carefully folded.
He handed the parchment to Illari, smiling as he asked, "Could you demonstrate for me that... the contract for the transfer of permissions?"
(End of this chapter)