Cilene’s pestering was not wholly unwelcome by Nate. The structure of the building, though fascinating, gave him a creepy feeling. The longer he stayed within the more he felt its pull on his spirit. That primal animal instinct that lay dormant for most of a person's life was starting to ring alarm bells. Cilene was doing well at distracting him from those very alarm bells.

  Heading back Francis explained he had a focus on poisons, and rare specimens. His Scylla was an example of that. Originally they weren’t well known for using poison and were more closely related to water manipulation. It had taken him some months to track its previous master down. He assured Nate that after killing the man he had let the less valuable spirits go free.

  Nate made note not to readily reveal what his spirits could do. Lest someone like Francis target him. It was good advice in general but his story had enhanced that warning. The front wasn’t far and they were quickly back to business.

  Francis popped his case open atop the front counter. The concealment spells sizzling and fading into a dormant state. Magic items were more than just convenient as was put on full display here. Each part unfolded into a plethora of levels and rows. Most held personal items covered in cloth for privacy. It was similar to how the store was much larger inside then without.

  What concerned Nate and what would later concern the Tyrant was the collection of glass bottles. Carefully placed smack dab in the center of the fully displayed suitcase. Tightly grouped together twelve bottles each displayed a similar figure. Though the sex varied, all were some shade of brown or green with leaves sprouting out of various parts of their bodies.

  “A collection of dryads. You wouldn't imagine the lengths I went through to collect these spirits. On the whole it's only a start to a collector but I’ve moved on to a new hobby.”

  Nate raised a questioning look which was answered by none other than the Tyrant himself. The skull's impressive world warping powers had garnered as much respect as it did creepyness from Nate. So as he spoke he made sure to focus on his words.

  “There are Necromancers of all sorts. Some get bored with research and take to garnering a select type of spirit or monster. We don’t often talk about them any differently but we like to be called collectors. If you were to give us a name that is. How long do you think it took me to get a real dragon?”

  “Long enough to make it a vanity project.” Wayne’s response was biting but in a playful fashion.

  Francis picked through the bottles separating out the grades. Quickly a line formed of six bottles. Each was a grade two spirit that hummed lightly of power. Given Nate’s impressive set of spirits and monster it would appear to him a lacking prospect. Having a monster and spirit of the third grade before any official lower grades. It was possible that his father was even higher but he was still uncertain.

  Despite his perception of the goods he knew that his teacher wouldn’t set this up for no reason. There was a possibility to him that it might be to shore up some of the areas he was lacking in. Wayne had done it just because a free spirit was free. Nate wouldn’t be told that until much later on.

  “Wow, Francis, you collected all these yourself? That's very impressive.”

  Nate had already caught onto the man’s way of functioning. Vain and self-centered as one could get before madness, he rubbed his nose in a pleased fashion. Wayne took it as his student being too conniving. Sweet words would do nothing against power, and he needed to learn that sooner or later. Otherwise he’d be left high and dry when it mattered.

  “Well, you know how it is. I didn’t catch all of them personally. This oak dryad came from a trade for a grade one Serpent Fisher. You know how hard it is to find one of those? This guy is special in his own way of course, otherwise I’d never have made the deal.”

  “What a wonderful collection you’ve garnered. Now give your sales pitch. Since I’ll be buying them as well, I might as well save some time for later.” The Tyrant kept to his businessmanly attitude.

  “Of course. As I said the Oak is a good choice for large coverage with its telepathic ability, oaks seem to grow everywhere. I have two cedars here. Neither are impressive. Then we have this Japanese Cherry Blossom now that's a unique one for the states. Less utility but more exotic. The last two are a Red Wood and a Maple. Funnily enough the Maple can produce its own syrup. Still can’t tell if it's an early ability or just normal for this variant.”

  Nate looked over each of them as the man explained further. Among them the Oak was clearly the best option. Dryads could communicate with the type of tree that they were. This one had an especially strong talent to do so. The only other worthwhile one in Nate’s eyes was the Redwood. Unimpressive when all things were considered. It wouldn’t have the same type of reach as the cedar’s would. Let along the oak. Instead its natural ability to grow in size could make it a viable attacker or tanker when used in conjunction with magic.

  That was the other caveat to the selection. Whichever one he chose could also be utilized in magic spells. He wondered if he used the shadow spell using the Redwood how much larger a shadow he could wield. Either way Francis was giving a hard sales pitch on the cherry blossom. It was without any practical applications but it was one of the prettiest to look at. Each movement cast spinning blossoms into the air from its cascade of pink locks.

  “...so that's why I think you should purchase this one. I think a man of discerning nature could be willing to pay fifty thousand.”

  Nate choked at the price point he’d just heard. His eyes shot over to Wayne who was wearing a pleased smile. Finally his student would come to understand the true price of working in this field. Even something as simple as a grade two was easily worth fifty thousand. If this was Japan the cherry blossom would have been worth much more, close to one hundred thousand. It was only the weird ones that based their price off of rarity and not utility.

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  “Wait, this one here is fifty thousand? Then how much is the oak?” Nate rasped out dryly.

  “I will be offering sixty thousand, a profit margin must be maintained.” The Tyrant spoke coolly.

  Weakness gripped Nate as he glanced over to find Cilene with a slightly less yet still shocked face. Among those standing at the briefcase only the two of them seemed out of the loop on the pricing. True Nate had earned a lot with Jeb but that was practically him ripping the man off.

  “There are a few good options here for you. As your teacher I would recommend either the Oak or the Redwood.”

  “Why not my Cherry Blossom?” Francis Protested.

  “Do I even need to tell you why?” Wayne was particularly cold to Francis.

  Hesitating Nate’s eyes wandered over the spirits. It was odd having to find a spirit that matched him. All the others up till now had just felt correct. Lupita, Karah, and his father. The blightlings had that same effect, familiar, comfortable. Even the ones in his basement shared some history with him. Now each of the dryad’s felt off, wrong in a way that one could learn to live with.

  “I think you might be right. I think the Redwood is a better fit especially if I learn some useful spells. None are quite speaking to me, or look particularly enthused.”

  “Is that so?”

  Wayne fell into a ponderous state. His student had their families spirit technique and could open up any number of buildings. The first, as with most of the Grandmasters' pupils, was a basic house. There wasn’t much room there for something like a preference to form. There also didn’t seem to be any particular miasmic type that Nate gravitated toward. Personally, a dryad didn’t connect well to Wayne in a general sense. They were pretty opposed to gears and mechanics. A new Necromancer should have wide open options.

  “Do you really not know? It seems your studies outside of golems are slipping.”

  A new voice entered the room. She was of similar looks to the woman who had been helping the tyrant but younger. A mischievous smile played at her lips as she reached across the counter top and pawed at Wayne. Fingers brushing against the front of his chest. He backed away quickly as the all too serious man blushed a deep red.

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t tell her I was here.” Wayne cringed.

  “Only direct purchases and contracts are guaranteed here.” The skull blazed that mischievous pink that had accompanied their ruse.

  “Listen young one. You’ll learn this at the academy but everybody's got to find out what their contactors are going to be. Robotic automatons, Tools for a trade, or even collection to be shown off. You my dear just haven’t made that connection to one of these here.”

  Francis gave a small shrug of his shoulders. What the woman had said was true. He only kept the rarest finds at the end of a haul. It gave him much variety but restricted exactly what he could use. It even went as far as to cause him problems. If he didn’t off load the Cherry Blossom he would end up with another room filled by a mere grade two.

  He surveyed Nate who was in the midst of trying to pinpoint what exactly his criteria should be. It wasn’t an easy thing to figure out. That longing in the soul, pulsing heart rates, and sweaty palms. It was akin to finding someone you love after a long time. A thought suddenly bubbled up in his mind.

  “Well, I guess I do have one option. It's a bit more powerful, and more unique.”

  The surprising words clacked the Tyrant's mouth shut. Whatever was to come out of Francis’ mouth was going to cost him money. He knew this not as a powerful necromancer but instead as a world class businessman. He attempted to raise a concern but his adorable daughter gave him a murderous look. Her love for Wayne was outside of what he was willing to speak up against.

  “Go on.” Wayne prompted.

  From a hidden corner he pulled an especially crude and dirty looking bottle. He rubbed away at the face of the bottle to reveal a figure even smaller than the other spirits. It was thin, cracked, and parched from water. Unlike the others its skin was a grayish color. Upon its head it had no beautiful leaves nor even a touch of the gentleness that seemed to permeate the other dryads. Tangled Sharp branches shot out the top of her head.

  The diminutive figure was hugging its legs obscuring the rest of its appearance as it made itself into a ball of protection. Francis presented it with less gusto as he struggled with a strained smile. He placed the bottle down in front of the others in the front row. The bottle was not only filthy but also of a less than satisfactory style. It was a size smaller than its counterparts.

  “I got this from a local. Guy practically forced me to take it a few years ago. I may have forgotten that it was the reason I’ve been on the Dryad kick.”

  Nate gave him a displeased look which was echoed by all the others present. Wayne who was shaking out to be the insensitive type was appalled at the lack of care. The woman took out a cloth and went to clean the bottle. Nate beat her to it as he lifted it up carefully.

  “Thorn Wood?” Nate whispered.

  A withered face looked up at Nate. Hollow cheeks peeled open as two bright green eyes stared up at him. The spirit was so frail, so fragile. A single wrong move and its very existence would be blown away.

  “How did you know? I promise I would have taken better care of it but it wouldn’t sign a contract. Couldn’t sell it anywhere because of that fact.” Francis answered haphazardly.

  The cloth was handed over to Nate who gently cleaned the outside of the small spirits prison. All the while its eyes blazed that forest green glow. Wayne reached out and placed a hand on Nate's shoulder.

  “Grade three? What’s its spell?”

  “If I remember correctly. Given its appearance is something like pierce. I couldn’t get it to share any of its information. She’s definitely a grade three but I don’t think her magic is strong. Can’t even use the special engrained powers of a dryad.”

  “And you're willing to give this one to me?” Nate’s voice was gentle.

  “Yes, it wouldn’t even affect my sales.”

  “Think about this Nate. I feel for this spirit but we have a goal. The others will be more useful. Think of the Need versus the want.”

  “No, Teacher, I don't think it's that simple. It's not just about needs nor wants. Being a Necromancer means doing whatever you choose to do. If even I can’t make this decision to save this spirit would there be any meaning to what I’m doing? I kill when I want, which means I must save when I want.”

  Wayne took a step back. He didn’t have enough sway over his student. A small part of him at this moment found that this was a good thing. Had he been trying to mold him into something he was not meant to be? It was a question that wouldn’t have an answer for some time. With silent acceptance he stood to the side.

  Francis took to browsing the shelves. The rest stayed at the front. For their purchasing power it was now for the Oni to step up. She relayed that their boss was waiting outside and requested to deliver the goods directly. Nate headed out by himself. The woman at the counter wasn’t going to let Wayne escape so easily.