To Jurian Cornelissen Esq.,
If we understand correctly, you argue that the main reason for people to seek out a spiritual pact is out of desperation. Desperation such as that born out of poverty, in your own example. We hope you understand that fighting poverty is always one of our main priorities, whether warlockry be a factor or not. This is, however, a complex and nuanced issue.
But let us return to the issue at hand; warlockry. We need to decide whether to enshrine the legality of these practices in law, and if so what form these legislations will take. Or whether to illegalise the practice altogether. For that, we need to understand the process through which these pacts are made. You have explained the 'why' quite aptly. But that just leaves us with the 'how'.
We understand that this probably differs from person to person, or patron to patron. So let us stick with the same example you used last time. How did your client ever even hear of this Ghalaunach, much less learn to contact the spirit?
As always, thank you for your time and effort.
In honoured service,
Annemiek Smalbrugge
----
To the esteemed Councilwoman Annemiek Smalbrugge,
Of course I appreciate the nuance that comes with your station. I hope you do not consider my last response to be a critique on your judgment. I promise, if there is anything I have to say, I will be clear. In regards to your current question, however; that is exactly what I asked my client when she returned to my office. It was clear to me that she wasn't affiliated with any mage clan, considering the conditions she lived in. So then where had she learned to contact an entity from beyond our plane?
Apparently the first time she had heard the name of her patron at all was between the hallowed walls of one of our Crown Temples. The only sound inside was the droning voice of the vicar, resounding off the ancient stone to embrace the flock from every direction. And whenever he paused for emphasis, there was the beating of the hearts of a thousand faithful. He spoke of the trials of Saint Queen Rosaria. His ancestor, whose flesh and blood he'd share, had She not left those things behind in apotheosis. Specifically, he spoke of Her voyage to the deserts of the old continent. Now, I am no theologist, but my mother has dragged me to plenty of sermons in my youth, saying I should try to fit in with the culture that we live in. The way I remember this story is that Saint Rosaria visited the cradle of humanity to connect to Her people's origins. To better understand them when She'd return to lead them. But here, She encountered the rebellious spirit of Greed, who tried to tempt Her into forsaking Her duties. But, lacking any selfish desire, She rebuked the spirit, and returned ready to ascend.
I share this version of the tale because it contrasts wildly with what my client says she heard that day. I know your council includes another member of the clergy, and I would not want them to think I uncritically accept what may be heretical. If possible, I would love for them to explain any discrepancies between the tale as I have heard it in my youth, and as I am about to tell it now.
"Avarice is a mirror", the vicar told my client. "It reflects only what we bring to it. And in so doing, it becomes a teacher. It shows us what motivates us. What we want, and why. It is not right to ignore a teacher, nor wise to dismiss an opportunity for reflection. But as with any mirror, it is dangerous to let yourself be consumed by it. Observe it. Drink in the sight, and internalise it. Embrace your desire but reject your vanity."
To hear Laperrinei tell it, that is the lesson our Queen learned there. She did not transcend Her desires. She acknowledged them and internalised them. "The spirit did not tempt Her. It only laid Her temptations bare, so She could realise what She wanted most. Her humility desired a simple, quiet life. Her sense of duty wanted to protect and guide Her people. But She knew She could not do both. So, one had to be given up. A trade had to be made."
To my ears, that description sounded far more enlightened than the blatantly covetous thing I spoke with yesterday. And yet, it answered to the same name. I do not remember any rebellious spirit's name ever being spoken. I was told that to do so was to invite their attention. But the vicar must have felt very secure in the impervious sanctity of his temple's walls, for he spoke it then and there. Though despite his earlier praise, he spoke it in warning; "So go and feel your desires. Hold them, and recognise them. Trust your soul when it tells you what it wants, but trust not someone who decides that for you. Remember that Ghalaunach thrives not on your fulfilment, but your want. And it has ways of making you want things you never dared to consider. For all the riches it may give you, it will never allow you to be satisfied. Such is the danger of wealth not earned."
With that, the sermon was over. And one by one, people started filing out of the temple. But Laperrinei remained between the pews. To her, the vicar's warning had the sound of promise. She already knew what she wanted. What she needed. And if there was some cryptic entity out there that could give it to her, she had to try. It sounded like a long shot, sure, but why would the vicar warn his flock against something that wasn't even possible?
When she felt it was safe, she walked over to the speaker. She knew she could not simply ask how these communications with Ghalaunach could be established. So instead, she feigned worry. She asked him how she could recognise when a friend might have given in to cult activity. What the warning signs were of the spirit's presence. And finally, where she might learn more about the topic. The vicar was surprisingly helpful, perhaps unable to believe that one of his flock might seek the communion he warned them against. He told her to beware the stench of charnel where it did not belong, for the spirit would be beckoned by sacrifice. To look for dust of chalk or charcoal, for a sigil would need to be drawn, though he did not know what it looked like. Finally, he pointed her to the library with the titles of several publications. If she wanted to know more, those were where she might start. With that, he bade her farewell. And she dove into the books.
They were never as useful as she wanted, but always more than she expected. Of course there would not be one simple booklet explaining how to contact demons waiting in our public library. But each proved to be part of a puzzle, though a lot of it conflicted. With the little free time that her job afforded her, it took her months of research, broken up with trial and error. Until one day, she spoke to the body that laid on her floor. And the following day, she stood in my office.
The same place we were at right now. "So, now what? You invited me back here, so I'm assuming you have a plan. But I'll be honest, things didn't look very hopeful yesterday."
There was no malice in her voice when she said it. No accusation. Merely curiosity. She knew I wouldn't have gone through with this if I considered it a lost cause, just as I knew she would not have shown up if she didn't have faith in me. "That's because I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But your partner was kind enough to explain exactly why it won't budge."
She thought for a moment. "Right. It mentioned that it has plenty of other prospects. To the point that it will gain more if it just turns people away, rather than ever compromising on a deal."
"Exactly. And I believe it when it says that. With so many, err... Associates? Customers? Either way, with so many different people trading with it, it can afford to let a handful slip through. But not all of them. We'll just need to find them."
After our talk, we divided our roles. She would retrace her steps, with the assumption that if she had been tempted by the vicar's tale, there might have been others in the temple that day that were set on a similar path. Our hope was to consolidate the bargaining power of these people into one, unified block. In the meantime, I would do my research. Reading folklore and myth to find out what this devil might wish to trade for. Twice a week I scheduled a session with her where we'd update each other on our progress.
Said progress, however, came dishearteningly slowly. Predictably, those that deal with demons don't usually advertise themselves. At this point in time, the general public just assumed that dealing with demons would be illegal. And that was definitely true for many of the actions commonly associated with it; false worship, sacrificing sapient creatures, summoning demons... These all had clear laws against them, with specific punishments laid out. But interplanar trade was a particular blind spot in the law, perhaps because it wasn't considered to be possible. Still, a legal battle wasn't something most people looked forward to, even if they might win. Thus, fearing stigma and legal repercussion, Laperrinei was also not willing to ask her questions too directly. She opted for a more roundabout approach, that was harder to trace back to her in case the worst happened. She'd return to the library to find the books she read in her research, and left esoteric scribblings in the margins, or would encircle specific words. She'd scrawl a stylised version of Ghalaunach's symbol on walls and posts throughout Taven, similar enough that anyone who knew the real thing ought to recognise it, but different enough to render it a meaningless scribble for anyone else. She even resorted to carving vague messages into the pews of her temple during congregations. All of this would lead to a meeting place she and I agreed on together. This couldn't be that same collapsing barn where I had first witnessed that flesh-wrapped horror, of course. Laperrinei did not dare lead unknown parties to her own abode. Instead, we had found a glade in the woods just beyond the city gate that we thought suited our purposes; large enough to house the many visitors we hoped would come, and open enough to observe them. But with plenty of places for my client to hide in the treeline before deciding to come out. Of course, this went both ways. And as the weeks passed by, that beautifully empty glade remained both beautiful and empty. If anyone answered our summons at all, they too must have waited at the treeline and gotten cold feet before heading back.
In this time, I was lucky enough to scrounge together a few cases of my own to ward off bankruptcy. A trade dispute based on the veracity of currency from the Zalis Plutocracy. Unlawful termination of an employment contract. And simple mediation between a supposed innovator and an excited investor. None of them were ground-breaking, but they helped me pay my bills. As the weeks wore on, though, it was becoming clear we had to take more of a risk. We couldn't count on simply leaving clues and hoping someone might decipher them. We had to actually approach people. And though I refer to my party as a whole, I fully admit it was my client that took on this task. The only person we could think to question, however, was the vicar that had laid the groundwork for Laperrinei's own journey. She asked the if anyone else had come to him with questions similar to her own. But of course, if any such conversations had taken place, he was not at liberty to disclose them. Something that relieved and frustrated her in equal measure, for at least that meant her own suspicious activity would be similarly safe. Surprisingly, it was the preacher who came up with an alternative rather than my client; he could not reveal the identities of others that came to him for aid. But if she consented to it, he could reach out and tell them to meet with her. Hesitantly, she told him about the glade and the two of them agreed on a time and date when people would visit it. The whole affair left her reasonably nervous. In the worst case scenario, she had just invited a holy order to her secret gathering. In the best case scenario, she'd just made significant progress, which was scary in its own way. Just to be safe, she decided to carve herself a mask out of bark. From her hiding place, she was quite certain she could dart away if anyone came with ill intent, so she wanted to at least make sure they could not recognise her. Just to be sure she returned to her previous recruitment methods, just as I returned to my research. My sources were mostly fairy tales and legends, but among them I recognised common elements that I hoped were based in some sort of truth. I told her of this in our next session, with the excitement of someone finally making headway in a frustrating puzzle. But despite my own progress, I could see in her eyes that she waited desperately to talk. To tell me something bigger.
"I finally found one." She started, smiling from ear to ear. "Well, they technically came to me- but still! That's progress!"
"Right now that's a doubling of our bargaining power, yes." I said, matching her expression and excitement. "Who is it? Could I meet them too?"
She shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea. But I know they're in a similar predicament to me, and are more than willing to join our block."
I made no attempt to hide my confusion. If anything, I exaggerated it to invite her to explain. An invitation she gladly took.
---
It had been in the middle of the night. Of course, this is when most people would have the time to answer a mysterious summons to the middle of the woods. But it also meant it was so dark that Laperrinei would not have noticed her guest if it hadn't been for the rustling of the leaves. As she had suspected they too remained at the periphery, wanting to observe before deciding to step in. But with nothing in the glade to observe, there was nothing to base a decision on. From her own perch in a tall tree she decided to call out, hoping the mask on her face would help distort her voice.
"Approach. You are safe here." Even if this proved to be an adversary, she didn't exactly have a way of dealing with them after all. And at least this told the visitor they were in the right place, and that they were seen already. They stepped into the clearing, clad in thick and course fabrics that obscured their form. But based on their height, they were likely to be a human. Or perhaps another Elf. Apparently they'd had the same worries as Laperrinei, and came up with the same solution, because their face was hidden behind interwoven wicker seemingly cut right out of an old basket.
"Why are you here?" Laperrinei asked without revealing herself, and judging from how her guest looked around she had not yet been spotted.
"This wasn't my idea. I was invited! By the preacher, even! I wouldn't be here if-"
"What does the name Ghalaunach mean to you?"
Her guest froze, and hesitated. "You mean the spirit from the old tales?"
"I promise you, you are not among enemies." She said, but I think the words resonated more with herself than with her listener. After all, right now it was her that spoke from a position of leverage. She slowly, carefully lowered herself down from that tree. Her bark-carved, hollow eyes stared at her guest's wicker face. "Did you speak with it?"
Seeing the person they spoke with, her guest calmed down. Though there was no face to empathise with, at least now they felt like they conversed with another person rather than with a disembodied voice. "I did, yes."
"And did you trade with it...?"
"No. No, not yet. Was that a prerequisite to this meeting?"
Laperrinei smiled beneath her mask. "Not at all. But you are considering it, right?"
"Yes. I- Well, maybe? I am definitely thinking about considering it."
"But that thing is asking for a lot, isn't it?" She asked, venom dripping from her voice. "Come. Let's take a seat. You can keep the mask on if you prefer. I know I will."
The two of them talked for hours. Their journeys to Ghalaunach had been similar, but different. A different tome they read, or a method that one tried and the other never even thought of. Not that it mattered, when in the end the ritual that worked was the same for both. They also talked about their motivations for contacting the fiend. Laperrinei just wanted to live in relative luxury, without needing to worry whether she'd be able to afford both rent and food tomorrow. Her guest claimed to be an artist, though amateur for now. In their daily life they were a basket weaver, but they could not see themselves doing that for the rest of their lives. They would love to make their living selling paintings. But they'd first need enough wealth to live off until they made it big, and to buy canvas and pigments. Something they knew could take months, or even years.
"I don't need to be rich. I just want to be doing something that makes me happy. Rather than slowly kill myself in the employ of someone else."
"You and me both. I don't feel like I'm asking for much. Just enough to live, rather than just survive. Don't get me wrong, more is always welcome, but I'll take what I can get." Laperrinei sighed. "But if that's going to cost me my soul or something... I don't know. That sounds worse, right?"
Back in my office I raised my eyebrow when she said that, remembering her own argument to the contrary.
"Shut up, you want me to convince them, right? Anyway..."
"Definitely. If I'd been ready to give that, I probably would not have responded to your invitation."
"So then, what do you think is a fair price?"
The two of them thought about that for some time before the wicker-face revealed themselves to definitely be a human with their answer. "Maybe a year off my life? That seems fair to me."
"Maybe. Or perform a service, as long as it's nothing too illicit."
"Somehow, from this thing, I suspect it would be." Her guest sighed.
---
From that first success, more followed, though it still took several months before we reached numbers that satisfied us both. During this time our growing group of allies would congregate and discuss their stance. What was the bare minimum they would be satisfied with, and the absolute maximum they would be willing to lose? Laperrinei would report the outcomes of these discussions back to me, and I would draft up proposals which she would in turn bring to her gatherings to discuss. But eventually, I was invited back to her home and makeshift sanctuary. That neglected, slouching shed with the wounded roof. No light pierced it this time, for the meeting was planned at night and a very welcome rain hung in the sky. The air was thick with it, making the recent heat feel dirty rather than pleasant, and I could not wait until the clouds would break. As I opened the door, the building groaned in exhaustion. Heads immediately turned towards the noise, and though I felt the eyes on me I could not make out any faces. The people's paranoia had followed them even here, as everyone hid themselves behind the safety of a mask. Either thick cloaks or wide clothing was the norm to obfuscate their shapes. Despite all this, though, there was no sense of uniformity among them. Their masks and attire based entirely on what they could get their hands on. I saw a wooden theatre-mask, its shape distorted with multi-coloured candle drippings. A piece of cheap canvas stretched over a wooden frame talked to a meticulously carved alabaster face. Between the cloaks of patched-together bedsheets moved wisps of bright yellow, interwoven with golden threat that glistened like constellations whenever the torchlight caught it. Despite the apparent class differences, the wealthier attendants spoke as freely with the homemade masks as with each other. Perhaps even more so, for there was less risk of having their voice be recognised.
The throng of people parted without being told, forming a path for me to the centre of the room. I felt peculiarly underdressed without a mask of my own. It had been a conscious choice not to wear one, despite Laperrinei advising me to do so. At the time, I said it would be a statemen; We aren't doing anything wrong here. Hence, I have no reason to hide my identity. Aside from that, I figured it would be unethical to represent these people in negotiations if they didn't even know who I was. And finally, it might be a good thing to have my identity be known to a large group of soon-to-be wealthy individuals that may need legal aid in the future, no? But now, being the only to bare their face just felt uncomfortable. I stood out in a way that confirmed how little my sense of normalcy mattered here.
I stepped forward, to a now familiar drawing on the floor. In the middle of it stood a contraption of bloodstained wood. A modified chair, on which sat a fresh goat, its tongue already draped down its chest. Something else had already grown in its mouth to replace it.
"You... Return... As I said you would." There was no intelligence in its glassy eyes, even though it dwelled right behind them.
"Indeed, we have. And this time, we have a proposal for you." I responded, as I held the stack of papers I had drafted in front of me like a shield.
"There is a 'we' now, is there?" The creature groaned. Its lower jaw sagged down, and in the depths of its mouth a thick, grey tube swung left and right, as if the thing's parasitic tongue looked around to see the gathered mass. A wet gurgling escaped it, which was equally likely to be displeasure as merely escaping air.
"Indeed." I said, shuddering. This time around I knew what I was in for, which did much to lessen my horror, but nothing to diminish my disgust. "I know you can risk losing a single trade. That gamble pays off, on average. But I suspect the same is not true for this amount of people."
The creature didn't answer, confirming my statement. It just asked "What is your offer?"
I was confident when I put the pail down. Based on the tales I'd been reading, this would be a more than generous offer. "Every new moon, from each of the people gathered, a pail of milk and three eggs. A black hen slaughtered during the communion."
The creature remained quiet for some time. First I thought it was considering my offer. When next it made noise, it was simply a long, guttural groan to which it barely managed to attach the inflection of a question.
"Eghhrk?"
"I'm sorry? Is... Part of this unclear? Has terminology changed since you last traded here? It doesn't need to be a hen if-"
"I know exactly what you mean... What is unclear is whether I am being insulted by your whimsy, or only by your presence."
I was about to haggle with an extra egg, but thought better of it. Already I heard murmuring in the crowd around me. "But the stories say-"
"The stories say we ride moonbeams down to your plane to lay knots in your hair."
"Which you... Don't?"
Silence, broken by an awkward, coping chuckle from behind one of the masks.
"Right. No matter." I said, trying to recover. "Clearly I do not understand the desires of your kind. So enlighten me. If not eggs, milk and bird-blood, what might my clients offer you?"
"You know what... I made my demand already."
"Yes. Souls. And I explained why that is as ridiculous to us as eggs are to you."
"Hrng- Half, then. Half this crowd..." The goat-corpse shuddered. There was a tearing sound as one of its legs became too heavy for its decaying flesh to hold on to.
"Half?" I ask, and look around the gathered crowd. "I can't do that. If I would, half these people would have no reason to join our collective. They'd be well in their rights to leave, which would put the burden on half the ones that remained. Repeat that until only one person remains in this supposed collective. No, no, absolutely not. And I do believe you are intelligent enough to have realised that." I told it, drawing much needed confidence from the accusation.
"Then what do you propose?" The spirit hissed.
I flipped through my notes. A worrying portion had been invalidated by the brusque manner in which the thing on the chair dismissed our first offer.
"Ah- Here, yes. My clients would be willing to offer their time in worship and idolisation. Clearly we do not understand the rituals that would appease you, nor the message you would like to spread, but they are more than willing to learn. This building could be reworked to a chapel in your honour. Now, the Crown Temples hold weekly congregations, so that would be our first offer. But that amount is negotiable."
At this point I would like to interject. I am aware that one of the accusations that would later be filed against the Ghalaunach Collective was 'devil worshipping', and that several members of this group have stated under oath that they never engaged in such activities. Which is why I would now like to stress that the fiend dismissed this offer almost immediately. The act of false idolatry was only considered, never performed. Moving on:
"Bah. And what use have I for your praise? It offers me no sustenance, nor am I insecure enough to derive pleasure from it. If I did, I would swaddle myself in shapes more pleasing to you. Like the 'servile spirits' whose names resound in your temples."
Though it rambled for some time more, my mind was stuck on one word. Sustenance? Is that what it needed the souls for? I wanted to ask, but before I could the thing launched its own offer again.
"No. If you want to learn rituals, it will not be to praise me. It will be to summon. If this hovel is to be repurposed, it will not be a chapel but a staging ground. In exchange for the wealth I offer, you will bring my imps into your world. From there, they will be free to spread my influence. To find those that are perhaps more willing to perform a viable trade." It said, its voice now ringing clear. The corpse's abdomen squirmed as if already heavy with its mentioned spawn.
From there, I excused myself to discuss things with my clients. Only shortly after agreeing to the break the goat's gut burst open. The corpse disintegrated under the weight of the presence it had housed.
Opinions among the collective were as varied as their attire. Some said it was a small price to pay to set loose a few supposedly minor demons into the world if it meant receiving the riches they desired. After all, there was no inherent cost to the summoners. Others pointed out that that wasn't necessarily true, since we had no idea what the summoning ritual entailed. For all they knew, it required materials expensive enough to render the trade useless, or indeed sentient sacrifices. In response it was argued that we could simply ask this after contacting Ghalaunach again, and making our decision based on its answer.
For my part, I simply informed the group that summoning demonic entities is, in fact, illegal. Whether it was something they were willing to do or not, I left up to them, as confidentiality meant I was under no obligation to inform anyone. But I did think they should know.
In the end, it was decided by the majority that this deal would not be taken. Not for any reason mentioned above, but because "there is no way of knowing what these 'imps' are capable of and what they would be doing." Which I thought was a good enough reason indeed. Though that left us with the question of what we would offer instead.
Again, I mulled over the fiend's choice of words. Sustenance.
"Ghalaunach said it wouldn't accept your worship because it derives neither sustenance nor amusement from it. Clearly it would get one of those from your souls, and I am very certain it is the former. So what else would sustain a spirit of avarice?"
I looked across the room, and locked eyes with a mask of white marble. It was exquisitely made. Its laugh-lines and wrinkles accentuated with gold-leaf. Whoever wore it stood perfectly still, or at least its heavy, layered white robes did not stir from the movements beneath. They looked almost like the statue of a saint back at the temple. The sight reminded me of a sermon I never attended.
"Bring it back." I requested. The least I could do was ask the fiend.
When the ritual was performed again and Ghalaunach was back in his seat, I stood in front of the possessed corpse of a limp and bloodied hound. I held its glassy gaze, wondering if it could really see me, waiting for a sign of its presence. It eventually came as a gasping breath.
"What is it you feed on?" I asked it the moment I saw its chest move. "What is it about the soul that you crave?"
It didn't respond immediately, and when it did its voice again juddered awkwardly in its new body. "Hruh? Oh... Soul? A crude, crude word... But from your divinity, I crave your greed. Your craving."
"Mhm, mhm. Good. And why? Why from the soul? Why that?" I asked, no doubt sounding manic in my exhaustion.
"Because it is what I am. And it is so much more pure, right from the source."
My jaw clenched in a tight rictus grin. I knew I was on the right track now. "Explain."
"Your greed sustains me. And draws you to me. But until you get here, to me, I only taste its shadow. Strained through planar folds and layers. The echo of your thoughts, cast to the ideal realms."
Its words only made partial sense to me, but I figured it was enough. "But you can still feed on the greed we experience up here, right?"
"Up...?"
"No matter. If that is your only issue with that, I'll just continue if you don't mind. If that is true, then what if we just encourage more greed on this plane?"
"How...?" It asked, its own voice strained through those same planar layers.
"We wouldn't be asking for a gift. Instead, my clients would receive a loan from you. Something they would have to pay back before their life ends."
"I have no interest in your mortal riches. I gain nothing from this!"
"But you will. There would be interest. Something to motivate my clients from using their wealth to accrue more of it. Something to entice greed. And if they fail..." I looked over to those gathered, but it was hard to see their approval, or lack thereof, through the masks. "Their souls could be collateral?"
The demon fell silent enough for me to hear the muttering among the crowd, though there were too many different opinions going through each other to make out much.
"This... Is a start." The fiend said to my surprise. "Yes... Yes! But on top of that, hrm... For every requested influx of wealth, I add a sum. No charge. With the demand it be invested where I say."
That sounded suspiciously antithetical to the creature's nature. I couldn't help but question the apparent generosity. "Why?"
"As you said. To entice greed. There are petty inventors who will die in obscurity. Ah, but their creations will spark new ideas that everyone will want. There are expeditions being planned that will find resources that will define a market! But so many of these will go nowhere... Not without a slight economic push."
"So an investment?"
"In greater future greed."
Again I had to convene with my clients, of course. This was after all a great departure from our initial offer. Plenty of them were uneasy. After all, the risk of losing one's soul was still present, despite being the exact thing we had hoped to avoid. But others pointed out that wealth begets wealth, and that it will be relatively easy to make more if they can get a starting capital from the fiend. Peculiarly, the required investing was not even questioned.
At this point, I also suggested that the group consolidate their efforts, just as they did with their bargaining power today; after a member of the group has made enough money to pay off their debt to Ghalaunach, a percentage of their remaining earnings goes into a shared fund to buy off other members. This initially caused some grumbling, since not everyone was keen on diminishing their gains. But it did also significantly lower their risk of damnation, while still offering a great promise of riches.
In the end, three members of the group walked out on the idea of the collective. Two due to the remaining threat of losing their souls, one out of a distaste for the idea of a unified fund. But those that remained formed the Ghalaunach Collective, of which several admitted they would have accepted the initial deal, had my negotiations failed. The rest of the night was spent haggling over the specifics with Ghalaunach; the interest, and the specifics of the mandatory investments. But by dawn, the contracts were drafted. Soon enough every remaining member of the collective had their name on a dotted line.
Of course, several months later the collective's initial fears did come to pass, as the Holy Order of the Root discovered their dealings and accused them of cult activity. With nobody willing to defend them, I entered their story once more. But you can read those details in the relevant court cases. In brief: Because they did not worship Ghalaunach, they were deemed a legitimate trade organisation. They were, however, forbidden from dealing in stock due to fear of infernally gained 'insider information', but by that time most of them had grown their treasury enough to have other sources of passive income. Several of them became financial advisors, or helped to set up unions among groups of dockworkers modelled after their own collective. Questions were also raised regarding the legitimacy of gold obtained through demonic ritual. It is, after all, not entirely clear where it comes from, and the creation of new wealth might further destabilise our economy. But at the time of their rites, there were no laws in place against creating new gold, and as far as I have been told the ritual has not been repeated since.
So to answer your question: That is how a deal is made. At the very least, for the members of the Ghalaunach Collective. Knowledge of a spirit will find itself to you, and if you are desperate enough you will seek it out. If this spirit has its eyes set on you, it may orchestrate ways to get that knowledge to you. Then, if you have the opportunity, you go and get your legal counsel.
This, of course, is also where your legislations become extremely relevant. Because they determine whether or not people have that opportunity. I would like to point out that without my counsel, all of these people would still have contacted this fiend. And many of them would have ended up taking its first offer. Should you choose to criminalise warlockry, you will not eradicate arcane pacts. You will only increase the risk they carry.
I understand the desire to have your name be attached to large, historic reforms. But in this case, I must request that you do not be too greedy.