chapter 87 game of schemes

A GAME OF SCHEMES

The tavern was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat. Shadows flickered against the walls, cast by lanterns swaying from wooden beams. The usual noise of rowdy adventurers filled the space—players celebrating their small victories, drinking away their failures, or plotting their next move.

But Kaelith wasn't focused on them.

His sharp eyes were locked on the old man sitting across from him. Malthor, the harmless merchant. The man who had tricked an entire town into paying 100 gold for a fake crisis. The man who had been running scams before most players even knew how to equip their weapons properly.

Kaelith swirled the drink in his cup, the amber liquid sloshing lazily as he leaned forward slightly. His voice was low, just enough to cut through the noise without drawing attention.

> "Alright, old man, cut the act. You've already got your 100 gold. I saw how those fools scrambled for Pink Solutions' fake generosity. Soon enough, they'll realize they've been scammed."

Malthor's expression didn't change. He simply took a slow sip from his own cup before setting it down with a soft clink.

But Kaelith caught it—the brief flicker of amusement in the old man's eyes.

> "And what of it, lad?" Malthor finally said, raising an eyebrow. "A scam is only a scam if someone realizes it before it's too late."

Kaelith let out a dry chuckle. He liked that answer.

> "Fine, fine. But you wouldn't be sitting here so relaxed if you didn't already have the next step planned."

Malthor exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly as if he had expected the question. Of course he had.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

> "Tell me, Kaelith, what happens when desperate people realize they've been tricked?"

Kaelith's fingers tapped against the wooden table. A test. He knew how Malthor operated now. The old man wasn't just giving him an answer—he was making him think.

> "They get angry."

Malthor nodded approvingly.

> "And what happens when angry people have no one to blame?"

Kaelith's tapping stopped. His mind moved quickly, piecing things together.

> "They start looking for a scapegoat."

Malthor's smirk widened.

> "And who do you think will be their scapegoat?"

Kaelith's mind ran through the events leading up to this. The entire town had been tricked. The players who had gathered 100 gold for the supposed "bandit threat" thought they were doing the right thing. But once they realized it was all fake…

They wouldn't blame Pink Solutions. The guild had played its role well, posing as the noble benefactor. The players wouldn't dare go against them.

> "You."

Malthor laughed softly, tapping the side of his nose.

> "Exactly. Which is why I don't plan on being here when that happens."

Kaelith leaned back, arms crossed. The old bastard was slippery.

> "So what now? You just vanish into thin air while they tear apart the town looking for you?"

Malthor picked up his cup again, swirling the liquid before taking another slow sip. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he slid a small parchment across the table.

> "This, my boy, is where I disappear—and where you come in."

Kaelith's eyes flickered to the sealed paper. He didn't touch it yet.

This wasn't just a simple scam anymore. This was a game of power, deception, and control.

He reached forward, fingers brushing against the parchment, but his gaze remained locked on Malthor.

> "Tell me, old man." His voice was steady. "What's your real goal in all of this?"

Malthor smirked.

> "Survival."

And in that moment, Kaelith realized—he wasn't dealing with just a scam artist. He was dealing with a man who had spent his life playing the long game.

A DEAL SEALED IN SHADOWS

Kaelith stared at the parchment resting on the wooden table. It was sealed with dark red wax, stamped with an unfamiliar insignia. He didn't touch it yet. Instead, he studied Malthor, watching for any sign of deception beyond the usual amusement in his old, calculating eyes.

> "You're handing me this pretty quickly, old man." His tone was casual, but his fingers tapped lightly against the table—a habit he had when thinking. "Is this some kind of test?"

Malthor chuckled, taking another slow sip of his drink.

> "Lad, you give me too much credit. I'm an old man who just wants to retire in peace, preferably somewhere far away from angry fools with empty pockets."

Kaelith finally reached forward, breaking the wax seal with his thumb. He unfolded the parchment carefully, eyes scanning the contents.

It was a list. Names, locations, brief descriptions. All of them were players.

Some were merchants, others were small-time guild leaders, and a few were independent adventurers. But what stood out was the single word written next to each name.

> Debtor.

Kaelith's lips curled into a knowing smirk.

> "You're not just scamming people, Malthor. You're putting them in debt."

Malthor let out a small laugh, raising his cup in a mock toast.

> "Scam is such a dirty word, lad. I prefer… business."

Kaelith exhaled through his nose. So that was his real play. Malthor had trapped players into owing him money through fake crises, forced deals, and "generous" loans with hidden consequences.

And now, he was leaving town before they realized the net around them had tightened.

> "Let me guess," Kaelith said, tapping the list, "You want me to collect?"

Malthor shook his head, still grinning.

> "No, no. You misunderstand. That list isn't for you to enforce, lad. It's for you to profit from."

Kaelith's brows furrowed slightly.

Malthor leaned forward, his voice lowering.

> "Debts are power. You don't need to break bones to make people dance. You just need them to owe you something."

Kaelith understood instantly. This wasn't about money. It was about leverage.

> "And what do I get out of this?"

Malthor's smirk widened.

> "Use it however you like. Make allies, make enemies, or sell the information to the highest bidder. Consider it a parting gift."

Kaelith stared at the parchment again. It was valuable. Extremely valuable.

He could sell it to Pink Solutions, giving them control over half the town's struggling players.

He could blackmail individuals, gaining temporary favors.

Or he could do nothing and let chaos unfold.

The possibilities spun in his mind, but one thing was clear—Malthor had just handed him a weapon.

Kaelith folded the parchment neatly and tucked it into his coat.

> "I'll consider it."

Malthor chuckled, finishing the last of his drink. He pushed back his chair, standing up.

> "That's all I ask, lad. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a disappearing act to perform."

Kaelith didn't stop him. He simply watched as Malthor strolled out of the tavern, whistling an old tune.

He knew he'd see the old man again someday. People like Malthor didn't fade away. They waited in the shadows, watching, pulling strings when it suited them.

Now, Kaelith had to decide what to do next.

He tapped the hidden parchment inside his coat.

> "This game is getting interesting."

Then, without another word, he finished his drink and stepped out into the night.