While they had seen the night sky from the palace’s guest suite, something made the moon feel more valuable from this position, inside a cheap, but clean and respectable inn. A chilled cup of chocolate chip cookie caramel latte with grated-walnut on top of salted whipping cream in hand; the colder weather had, by some means, drawn Caleb to this concoction of diabetes.

Fortunately, lesser constructs like the entity’s vessel didn’t have feature metabolism.

It was too bad their visitor declined the sugary treat and opted for rose tea.

They sat by the window, with furniture conjured by Caleb since these rooms only had a bed, a nightstand, and a pair of stools. Nothing wrong with them, of course, for the quality of the craft was just right. However, they weren’t what the entity would call proper comfort.

Even so, the most luxurious chair in the world might not dispel the unease from their guest for the night; a silent shape of darkness as though someone had carved the light away from reality where they were.

“You’re not the same one from yesterday,” they took a long sip from the metallic straw. The spy turned visitor didn’t actually freeze or flicker, per se, but Caleb felt the shadow shrink just a little.

Setting the cup down, the figure cleared his throat. Or hers. This one used some method to distort its voice, turning it hoarse and grating.

“Caleb Ashling, you’ve caused a lot of troubles,” the shadow said flatly.

“And somebody didn’t take a lesson on etiquette,” Caleb swirled the straw. “why don’t we start after your introduction?”

In the ensuing silence, the entity noticed their visitor wasn’t producing bioelectricity while the other one had been; which narrowed down the possible Skills they were using to produce this clone-like phenomenon. Taking a long, unceasing inhale of the drink, Caleb was half-way through with the thing before their visitor decided to engage in the conversation once more.

“We are the Hidden Blades in service of Basraeca,” the figure inclined its head.

“Not the king?” they felt another stir. “Well… no matter. Tell me then, why are are you here?”

“Hordes of wild animals and monsters alike fled from your magic, causing severe damages to nearby towns and cities,” there was an edge in the agent’s tone. “If the army and a large number of adventurers hadn’t intervened in time, countless people would have lost their lives. Are you going to act like that had nothing to do with you now?”

“Really? And the actual casualty?”

“Hundreds. More unaccounted for,” from the figure, darkness began to spill over the room. “You will be held responsible, Caleb” – even through the distortion, revulsion was apparent when the guest said their name – “not even His Majesty can vouch for your life.”

A bone-chilling cold erupted as shadows twisted, trying, yet failing to grasp at the boots Caleb was wearing. Frostbite clung to their stainless-steel cup of flavored sugar and the drink became thick and sloshy. Intrigued, they turned the straw into a spoon and popped the lid open.

“What will you do about it, then? Stop me?” digging into the impromptu frosty cream, they gave the Hidden Blade agent a shrug.

The taste was passable.

“You might be powerful, but don’t forget: We are many. And should you endanger our people once more” – the agent sunk into the chair – “we can and will chase you to the end of time.”

Seeping into the gaps between floorboards, the last shadow disappeared as the Hidden Blade’s voice faded.

Now that was rude.

Caleb had been polite and didn’t interrupt the guest’s dramatic flair as a proper host should. But to think their manners were poor enough to leave without finishing the conversation! Without saying farewell!

The rube didn’t even finish the tea!

Slurping the chunky smoothie without tasting it, the entity lost the mood to enjoy the sugary treat. They flicked away the scrying attempts locking on their location and let the casters reeling from sonar resonance; in their irritation, Caleb wasn’t going to sit still and let peeping toms lied.

Just because they were blocked from seeing didn’t exempt them from punishment.

As the drink disappeared into their nutrition processing unit, Caleb waved the conjured goods and furniture away and sat down on the bed; the visor snapped into place over their eyes.

Maybe watching Grave Spring’s progress would ease their annoyance quicker.

If this Hidden Blade agent had nothing meaningful to discuss, they shouldn’t have wasted time to come all the way to Caleb’s room just to posture. Although, that said something about their position.

The agent was not acting under anyone important or went out on their own.

Given the fact, as long as the king understood the free gift, it was alright. The deal was between Caleb and him alone, after all.

Turning their mind away from the misbehaving former guest, Caleb felt a smidge of joy rising to see the game was ready; while significant, the issue was small enough to let slide. Emotions were delicate things, and even minor entities had trouble reining in their actions at times. If they held grudges against these tiny creatures, none of them would have a life to live.

Petty Caleb might be, but they were not cruel.

Settling themselves on the bed, Caleb prepared to dive into the game; to make it into a virtual thing, the entity needed to experience it first. As they took another look at the moon, they realized why it felt more interesting.

Gentle light played across misted shingles, sparkling against chimneys made of uneven bricks, faint shadows drawn over the edges of buildings. Trapped behind the view of a small window, the canvas on the sky had richer depth than the wide, open stretch they saw in the palace.

Stars might be nice to look at, but light without shadow stripped away the contrast of a beautiful picture.

*****

Once morning came, Caleb left the Warren and leisurely made their way over to the Merchant Guild.

Even though they did want to purchase the materials directly from the supplier, Caleb would need to locate the merchant; just because the shopkeep knew who was the go-to person for quality ores, it didn’t mean Felix knew where to find him.

At least the man had given Caleb several names.

The trip took a while – they had to walk almost to the other side of Jarkenth – and Caleb noticed there was a pronounced sense of unease blanketing the capital. Which was to be expected. If the way those people acted yesterday were representative of the whole.

From the short survey of the residents here in Jarkenth, maybe it was already too late to give Otrea a wake-up call. Not unless Caleb went beyond the bounds of legality and tell them flat out, but that wouldn’t happen.

Losing the undeniable right to enforce the laws wasn’t worth the trouble; if complacency and inadequacy were to be Otrea’s undoing, so be it.

Situated in one of the more affluent neighborhoods of the outer section, the Merchant Guild didn’t quite possess the luxurious candor of aristocratic mansions of inner Jarkenth or the robust fortifications like that of the Adventurer Guild; however, it was still the gathering place of some of the most important people in the capital.

Behind the iron fence was a meticulously kept garden, styled in a monochrome of verdant green. Symmetrical and uniformed, the foliage hugged the paths leading into multiple buildings inside the confines of the guild.

The glass windows were thicker and clearer than most Caleb had seen walking through Jarkenth, including those from houses of the inner section. Simple decorative cornices lined the marble-like masonry, smoothly ground to give them a polished appearance.

Caleb wondered if the enchantments here differed from the ones at the Adventurer Guild; everything under the influence of this [System] was equally weak, after all. But at least the constructors didn’t seem to skim on expenses in that regard.

After entering the building, all was normal until the smartly dressed trade assistant – he intercepted the entity before they made it to the reception desk – heard Caleb’s name.

The man visibly shook.

It was a superb display of skill for someone to keep their face completely unmoved and a welcoming smile unbroken as their teeth clattered.

Knowing Caleb was above the jurisdiction of someone in his paygrade, the man had invited them into a private waiting room and ran off to fetch his supervisor.

While the Merchant Guild didn’t openly advertise their wealth with lavish, over-the-top exterior decorations, the furnishing inside this lounge was given a more liberal touch. On the tea table was a wide array of snacks; the shaky man insisted despite their refusal.

It was a waste, too. Caleb was in the mood for something savory whereas the dishes were of the sweeter side.

They were popping gallee eggs one by one in their mouthpiece when the door opened and a group of three entered the room. Swallowing the rest of the almond-sized eggs, Caleb regarded the guild’s representatives.

In the middle was a dusky-skinned elf; he wore a crisp ochre garb with maroon accents that highlighted his slim yet athletic frame. Similarly dressed to his left, though more revealing, was a tall, chest-heavy elf woman whose platinum blond hair matched that of her male counterpart. And to the male elf’s right was a petit female human with shoulder-length chestnut hair who looked like she needed a few more meals to avoid starvation.

Her proportions weren’t really that extreme, but the point still stood.

Swift and smooth, the three gave Caleb a proper bow at a touch above forty-five degrees as not to be seen as subservient.

“This visit is an honor, Baron Ashling,” the male elf gave them a cordial smile. “The Merchant Guild would like to give you its warmest welcome.”

“Good morning.”

“May we?”

At Caleb’s nod, the group settled into position on the opposite side of the entity’s seat. However, the two women stood behind the ornate sofa where the elf sat. Given their appearance, these representatives projected an air of casual confidence and professional competence.

If only they didn’t choose to stand behind the chair just to hide the wobbly knees.

“This humble businessman is Granan,” he made a stiff nod. “and these are my assistants, Thaela” – he indicated the elf woman, then the human – “and Holis.”

“Since the guild master isn’t here at the moment, allow us to negotiate our transactions in his stead, milord.”

“Isn’t my treatment a bit overblown?” Caleb understood their cautious attitude somewhat, especially if they knew of the entity’s action yesterday. Not to mention the identity they were using belonged to a former member of the aristocracy.

And it wasn’t something they could openly advertise either; those involved in the summoning ritual were one thing, but repeating that to everyone they met? Caleb could dispel the issues by directly communicating their meaning, but third-parties would spread misleading information no matter what.

Better to just embrace it and let only those directly affected by the change know the truth.

“You have always been an important customer, milord,” Granan continued. “It is only right.”

“Alright, then,” Caleb shrugged. “I am looking for Volz Noskair and a… letter of introduction if you will.”

“Noskair’s heir…” the elf rubbed his clean shaven chin between two fingers. “Thaela, make inquiries about Volz’s location, would you? And send the Noskair family a notice.”

The busty elf immediately sent a [Message] spell before bowing to Caleb and excused herself.

Caleb regarded the beckoner’s soul; from the way these people were acting, the little thing had been dipping his hands into something shady.

“I just happen to need materials for a personal project,” they tested the waters with some banter. “and Volz can supply high-quality goods from what I’ve heard.”

“Sir Volz is indeed known for his… stringent standards, milord,” Granan’s smile didn’t reach his ears.

“Hmmm, is he? That said, I need a price chart for ores, ingots and the like,” at this, he and the human woman seemed surprised. “Finding a reference on market prices should be the basic move when one wishes to make bulk purchases, correct?”

Although the pause was brief, it was easy to see their words had triggered something. Holis’s pupils expanded and contracted rapidly in a few moments before a neutral state took hold of her expression. And there was a subtle twitch of Granan’s right ear.

Most telling of all was the abrupt change of their heartbeats.

“Ores, milord? The guild can meet your demands with the best price on the market.”

“That remains to be seen.”

*****

Thaela hurried back to the private parlor as soon as she received the [Message] only to catch Baron Ashling heading to the courtyard followed by Holis and a flustered Granan.

Closing in on them, her eyes met Holis’s and the human girl whirled around to grip at her arm and pulled the elf along. Her grip was very, very tight; Holis only acted like this when she was really agitated.

“What happened?” Thaela whispered before the girl got a word in.

“We hit the gold mine, that’s what!” lips twitching, Holis’s professional face threatened to crack.

Since their height differed so much, Thaela had to walk a bit awkwardly to match the pace so she couldn’t ask the human to explain right away. However, it seemed that would have to wait; they all were outside.

Looking at a small hill of… ingots?

“These are good,” the baron’s voice reached her ears. Yet it only served to birth more questions.

He wasn’t looking for slaves, but ores? Why would…? Then a memory resurfaced, Volz indeed owned an iron mining company, one of the largest in human lands.

Fortunately, she didn’t manage to send an official message to Noskair house. That would have been a huge blunder.

Next to him, Granan rubbed his fingers together on one hand as he tried to keep the casual façade. That meant the man was nervous. Or likely caught off-guard. Did the negotiation not go as he wanted?

Thaela watched, befuddled as more were being deposited in the pile. Bigger and bigger it grew; from copper, iron, lead, zircon, and all the metals she could name. It wasn’t strange for someone to purchase such a large amount and so widely varied, but why were they being brought out here? Shouldn’t these be transported to a facility somewhere and processed?

“Leave those over here,” he waved the staff over and have the trolleys placed at his feet; the hill was more than twice her height at the least. And Thaela was anything but short.

Then, all of a sudden, the elf’s vision was filled with gold.

Overflowing from the five trolleys, glittering coins rolled off the piles, spilling over the smooth granite. The euphoric jingles of halos colliding with each other echoed in her ears as more gold cascaded down the ground like waves of shining, life-giving nectar of the sacred cypress – Aruo.

Even as the coins buried her ankles and she could feel the weight of dazzling gold on her feet, the elf could barely believe this was real. The baron wasn’t an [Illusionist], was he?

Mouth dry and wet with saliva at the same time, Thaela gulped the moment she saw the coins properly.

Palms sweating, a phantom ache spread across her fingers as she reached down and took hold of one. Unlike the normal Basraen halo which has the royal sigil on it – a griffin gripping a sword and a spear – this one was also engraved with a bi-directional wreath on the outline. The Sovereign Halo.

Only those with royal backgrounds were issued these. Or granted to those with extraordinary services by the ruling family.

Sovereigns weren’t rare by any means, many noble families used them in trade deals and day to day businesses, but to expend such an enormous amount?

There was no way they could have denied the baron’s demands, with or without news of his recent damning extravaganza.

More troubles were occurring as of late, what with the new demonic gates and changing atmosphere. The elf had thought of moving further south to avoid getting caught up in the coming war – humans loved making things sound dramatic – but this gave her pause.

She would fall into dangerous situations if she stayed. Especially if she wished to keep tabs on a hook this delicious; that thing last night with the mages was quite nasty.

Gustav’s mouth had almost imploded.

She shouldn’t.

In a corner of her vision, the elf saw one of the staff – a cat woman – knelt on the ground and reverently caressed a coin. Thaela closed her eyes.

And the excited panting of her human friend, Holis, played at her ear like Greed’s kiss.

She really shouldn’t.

May the Light of Absolution forgive Thaela, but damn if she didn’t love money.