Tibs observed the crowd from next to the food table, sensing the essence among them. Two of the attendees had an element, a woman in a red silken shirt and pants had earth, while a somber man had an element Tibs didn’t know, the tints was almost like metal, but he could tell it wasn’t it, as if it had a sheen to it he couldn’t quite perceive. Both were below Epsilon, in spite of looking at the others as if they were superior to anyone here.

Everyone at Epsilon or above worked for the guild. The guards against the walls and the servers walking among the attendees with trays. They offered food and drinks for those who were beneath walking to the long table with all the foods. Tibs had eaten some. They were okay. The drinks were too strong for his liking. There didn’t seem to be one tankard anywhere, or ale.

Tirania had gathered these people because she considered them important and powerful. It was another reminder to Tibs that power didn’t always work the way he thought it did. Too few of them had an element for that to make them powerful, and while he didn’t know how many coins these people had, he’d been in enough noble’s houses to know not all of them had as many coins as they acted like they did. Some of the merchants on the Row had more than a few in the noble’s quarters, even if they still, somehow, had less power.

When living on his Street, Tibs had thought power meant physical strength. He hadn’t had that, so cunning had been his strength, but it hadn’t given him power. He’d known coins were a form of power because the nobles spent some on guards, the way those with enough slivers paid thugs to enforce their will.

Once he found out about elements and what essence did, he decided that was power. That it was how the guild could do everything it did. What the guild got away with certainly supported that belief.

But Sebastian had showed Tibs coins could bring more than physical strength. He had used his to get people to act to his advantage without ever using thugs. Coins could change people’s minds, as if by magic.

The nobles of Kragle Rock had showed Tibs status was also a power in and of itself. Quite a few got their way purely with that, as they didn’t have the coins they acted like they did.

All of it was strange, but he had to learn to see it so he could work out how to make use of it.

Tibs sensed the man with metal as his element approach before he became visible, and he tried to work out what was different in his essence that let Sto know Irdian was suffusing himself. He could sense how dense it was, above Gamma, but there were no details there. The essence was just throughout all his channels. He tried to remember if Don’s essence had felt different once he’d suffused himself, but other than sensing it happen, Tibs had been more interested in the interactions between him and the representative.

Irdian came to a stop before Tibs and studied him. Tibs returned the look.

“Don’t think any of this is about you,” Irdian stated, then took a goblet of water from the table. There weren’t many of them, no one else seemed interested in drinking water, and like every other goblet, they had a weave through them composed mainly of water essence that kept the liquid cold. “You’re just her pawn.”

“Why does that matter to you?”

“Just reminding you of your place.” He sipped his goblet. “I don’t want you to think you’re more powerful than you are and reach so high your fall’s going to pull down your friends with you.”

“Don’t threaten my friends,” Tibs said casually. “Sebastian did.”

“I don’t make threats,” the commander replied just as casually.

Tibs filled cracks in the ice. “Isn’t it dangerous? Having all those powerful people in here?” He might as well see what useful information he could get from the man. “All in this one room in the building? What if one of their enemies finds out and gets an assassin among their retinue?” Tibs could tell quite a few of the people in attendance deferred to the same person.

Irdian raised an eyebrow, watching him, then shrugged. “If they can’t ensure the people with them are loyal, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“What if an assassin sneaks through the building and into this room to make the kill?”

The smile was small. “I’d love to see one of them try.”

“You don’t think they could? Even without an element, r—thieves are resourceful.”

“Your kind isn’t smart enough to get through the defenses.”

“My kind.” Tibs emphasized the word. “Isn’t interested in trying. Thieves and assassins would be. Any lock can be cracked; any trigger jammed. All it takes is time and experience. That’s one thing the runs have taught me.”

Irdian rolled his eyes. “The dungeon’s not teaching you anything about the world. All it’s doing is making you stronger so we can send you out against the same kind of creature when they forget their place. If you can’t remember that, if you think you’re different from any of the other Runners and can get away with things you can’t, you’re going to end up crushed.”

“The guild’s teaching me to deal with the world.”

Irdian snorted.

Tibs faced the man. “For someone working for the guild, you don’t seem to care for it all that much.”

“I’m a guard. Doesn’t mean I have to make believe what I’m guarding’s any better than they are.”

“Then why are you trying to stop me, if you don’t think the guild does a good job?”

Irdian faced Tibs and locked eyes with him. “Because rules are what keep the world from descending into chaos,” he said heatedly. “I’m well aware the guild doesn’t follow its own rules, but there are others in charge of dealing with that. My job covers what’s outside of the building. My jobs is to make sure that doesn’t descend into chaos. Stop breaking the rules, and I’ll stop bothering you.”

“I don’t trust you,” Tibs stated.

Irdian shrugged. “That’s your problem. I’m going to enforce the rules on you like I do anyone else.”

Tibs snorted. “I’m not seeing you enforce them on the nobles.”

Tibs sensed the weave in the goblet react to the added pressure as Irdian tightened his hand on it. It wasn’t adding ice to make it harder, but how the weave changed kept the fragile-looking item from shattering.

“What you’re seeing is the guild keeping me from enforcing the rules on them. Sometimes, the guild lets people who have no business having it, keep the power others grant them.”

“Commander,” Don greeted as he joined them.

“Sorcerer,” Irdian replied cooly, but nowhere near as brusque as when he addressed Tibs. “Enjoying being paraded for her benefit?”

“One’s position comes with requirements. I have no problem accomplishing the one to keep the other.”

Irdian drained his goblet. “You’re going to fit in here perfectly.” He put it down hard enough Tibs sensed the weave react, then he walked away.

“He seems to like you,” Tibs commented.

“I’m not sure he likes anyone.” Don watched the commander speak with the guards. “But I’m not making his life difficult.”

“I’m not making his life difficult,” Tibs replied. “He’s making mine difficult.”

Don smiled. “Perspective can be interesting like that.”

Tibs watched the crowd. Tirania spoke with a man wearing so many jewels Tibs could buy all the armor and weapons in the kingdom with them; well, the town at least. “Is this about more than what it looks like? Is Tirania really just looking to get more people to do runs?”

“She’s looking to get them to invest here, as well as have them convinced others to invest. Help Kragle Rock grow. The town, well a city, is as much what draws people to a dungeon as the dungeon itself. The two usually grow side by side. The dungeon provides more opportunities, so the city grows, and with more people arriving, a proportionally larger number of them will brave the dungeon, helping it grow.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

He took a goblet without looking and sipped it. “We’ve had setbacks that disrupted the pattern, and she’s looking to set that right.”

“Why?”

“She has expectations to meet, I expect. She’s in charge, so she’s held accountable for how things happen.”

“And what happens if she can’t meet those expectations?”

“I’m not sure.” The sorcerer glanced at Tibs before looking at the crowd, sipping his goblet. “Within an academy setting, she’d be brought before a board of inquiry to determine how much of what happened is her fault. Too much and she’d be replaced.”

Tibs watched Tirania; tried to determine if there was any desperation in how she spoke to the woman with strands of silver woven into her black hair. “What’s a board of inquiry?”

“It’s a group of people who have the authority to decide the fate of those under them.”

Wasn’t Marger the only one above Tirania? “Where do they judge someone?”

Don chuckled. “I have no idea where Tirania would be judged.” He thought it over. “But I suspect that they’d need to look over the results of her decisions first, so the final judgment could take place here, since they’d already be here.”

Tibs nodded. So Tirania needed the town to grow, and these people were how she planned on making it happen. If that failed, Marger would notice, wouldn’t he? That would draw him here. Then, what he needed was to get information.

“I think we should talk with these people,” Tibs said, taking a goblet. “See what they’re looking for in a place to send people to.” He smiled at Don. “We do want to make Tirania’s work easier, after all.” He downed the content and grimaced as it burned his throat. When he was able to breathe again, Don’s suspicious expression was gone, and they stepped into the crowd.

Time after time, as Tibs was dismissed, talked down to, or simply ignored, he had to fill cracks in the ice. The nobles hadn’t held on to the impression Tibs was important. Most realized how Tirania used him and Don, and from the pieces of conversations he overheard, he had the impression many only humored her.

Some treated Tibs… better. As the nobles’ perceived place within their hierarchy dropped, the dismissals came with apologies. The talking to didn’t have quite as much of a downward angle to it, and he wasn’t ignored. They were who looked at what Tirania was offering as a way to advance themselves. They weren’t all ignorant of the show she put on, but they seemed tolerant of it.

Then there were the few merchants among them. They swallowed everything she told them so completely that if Tibs couldn’t sense the absence of essence on Tirania’s bright words, he’d think she was using magic on them. They saw a new market to increase their wealth, and through that, their position within their city. Some saw Kragle Rock as the city of their future, where they could start a mercantile empire from.

The merchants talked with Tibs, but kept their distance. They weren’t worried about the information they gave him, but that he might pick their pockets. Merchants could spot thieves and rogues at a distance, and few of them trusted either to keep their hands to themselves.

When, much to Tibs’s surprise, the meal was called; he realized he was ravenous. After that, there was more being ignored, more conversations he listened to, and a few engaged in, and when he noticed some of the attendees leaving, he did the same, but not before Don grabbed him so they could bid their host a good night, as was proper. Then they were escorted to the exit, and Tibs couldn’t wait to reach his bed.

* * * * *

He didn’t reach his bed.

Jackal met them halfway to the rooming house, and Don continued on by himself. The fighter led Tibs to the warehouse and Tibs looked on the empty space, filling the forming cracks over and over as heat tried to bubble out from where it was buried.

This was only a setback, he reminded himself. Let Irdian think he’d stuck a deadly blow by taking all Tibs had hidden here. Tibs would be in a position to rebuild much sooner than the commander knew.

Irdian was too set on his work to completely drop his guard, but if he thought Tibs had to start from nothing, his focus would shift to more important things for a time. And if Tibs could avoid attracting the attention back, that time could stretch.

He’d have to be careful in how he procured the new equipment, find a better place to store it. But he would have coins. He’d be able to exercise some of the power they gave him and make what he needed happen.

* * * * *

The sorceress sat opposite Don, with Tibs on his left and Darran on his right, reading the papers. Tibs didn’t understand why there were seven pages, when all this was about was selling the pool, but it was why Darran had dealt with it.

“This is your work, merchant?” She asked, a smile forming. “Surely, this isn’t—”

“Let’s not do things that way,” Don said imperiously as she wove essence within the words. “I did say we both knew how this would go. Did you believe I meant I would fold under your promises?” The smile he gave her reminded Tibs of his own while channeling corruption, but Don acted that way without suffusing himself.

Her smile didn’t falter, but the essence pulled back into her. “I suppose it is a sign you belong at the academy that you planned this so well.” She took a quill out of a pocket. It had essence woven through it; water, earth, metal, and others Tibs couldn’t identify. He was surprised there was no corruption. She placed the tip over a line. “You understand, I can’t agree with this.” She struck out the words, a neat black line in the wake of where the quill passed.

“Of course,” Darran replied joyfully. “I’d never presume a sorcerer of your caliber would simply agree to the first offer given.”

“Or that I wouldn’t seek counsel,” Don added, not quite managing to look down on her.

“I will admit that despite what I saw in our previous interaction, I had hoped there wouldn’t be quite as much of what we look for in a prospect in you.”

Don’s smile turned genuine. “You can ask most who know me in Kragle Rock. I’m not known for pleasing others.”

She scratched out another line, this time writing something over it. “I had hoped this would be quick.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Darran replied, grinning.

Tibs groaned as the merchant motioned Kroseph for tankards. He’d expected this to be done already. Just how long were they going to be at this?

* * * * *

Darran, Anuja, and Don were at it most of the day.

As a server brought food, Tibs considered leaving the table, but worry she’d use essence to make things go against what Darran was arranging kept him there. Don would sense if she used corruption, but as a sorcerer, she could pull on other elements, and Don might not be aware she was taking control of the negotiation. Tibs wasn’t sure what he’d do if she tried, but at least he’d have the option to do something.

So he remained, listening to them argue and write changes to the pages. He expected that eventually, the words wouldn’t be legible anymore, there would be so much ink there. He groaned when the two argued over what a word meant, getting an amused look from Don.

Tibs knew words changed meanings from one language to the other, but they were using magic to be understood this time; Darran had paid for it because he didn’t want any misunderstanding. How could words not mean the same thing when magic was used?

They agreed on something Tibs hadn’t kept track of, and more writing on the pages had happened.

By the time the sorcerers stood with a copy of the page she’s used magic to make and Darran had gone over to ensure no changes had been made that way, the shadows were long. She left, smiling. Don had a similar smile as he read the papers, and Darran pulled another, thinner stack. He wrote in a few places, showed it to Don, who read it, then signed it. Darran added his, then passed that to Tibs.

The number Darran had written was longer than Tibs had expected, and those weren’t copper. “That’s more than I asked for.” A lot more. With this, he knew he could buy arm and armor from the entire kingdom.

“That’s the beauty of a good deal,” Darran replied, then took a bite of the fragrant slab of meat just brought to their table. Kroseph had brought Tibs a simpler dish, even if he hadn’t asked for food. “Everyone comes out of it with more than they wanted.”

Don carefully rolled the papers and put them in a small leather tube, which he strapped to his belt. “I got everything I wanted, and they agreed to pay me during my apprenticeship.”

“But all she gets is the pool,” Tibs said. “How is that more than what she wanted?”

Darran smiled. “Don’t let how she acted fool you, Tibs. She came into this expecting to pay much more than what she did.”

“But she was hoping Don wouldn’t get help.” Tibs had experience with haggling, but the loser always ended up with less than they wanted. That was why someone haggled. “She could have used essence to get what she wanted from you.”

“She would have been disappointed,” Darran said. “I took precautions against that. That is what negotiations are, Tibs. We hope for an easy victory, but plan for an expensive battle.”

“Much like wars,” Don said, cutting into his meat.

“But unlike them, it’s possible to walk away with everyone involved pleased with the result. Don get a more comfortable position, you more money, and she didn’t have to spend as much getting what she wanted.”

“Doesn’t that mean we should have asked for more coins, then?”

“You could have done that,” Darran replied. “But what would you gain with more coins at the expense of her displeasure?”

Angering a sorcerer was never a good idea. Every story bards sang made that clear. “I still don’t get how everyone can end up with more than they wanted.” He ate what was on his plate. The food was blander than what Russel usually prepared, but Tibs didn’t mind.

“It’s why merchants like Darran are around.” Don said. He ate a few bites. “Thank you. When Tibs mentioned you, I didn’t expect such a skilled negotiator.”

“That’s quite alright. I don’t make much of that aspect of my trade. And I expect Tibs mentioned me because of our history helping each other, more than a knowledge of what I’m skilled at.”

“If you couldn’t have helped,” Tibs said, “you would have told me who could.”

They ate in silence, then Don looked up. “Darran, am I really so disliked by the merchants?”

“You are… abrasive, well, you’ve been so. I watched you interact with the others many times. You might not be wrong that you are entitled to what you asked for, and that you never seek to underpay, but that isn’t what matters.”

Darran sipped his goblet. “It’s the attitude. Tibs is entitled to anything he pays out of my shop, or any other, but he doesn’t enter into the transaction with that belief. He understands it’s an exchange and that, like the negotiations here, it can be done while respecting the other participant. To be clear, I have…” he smiled, “swindled Tibs, here and there, and in return, he has spun me stories regarding some of the items I bought from him. But when one caught the other, we accepted it as part of how this goes.”

“But I never tried to get more than what I sold was worth,” Don said, annoyed. “Or demanded to pay less than an item is worth.”

“How fair the money is doesn’t matter when it’s demanded of the merchant,” Darran said.

“So I should just lie about what I bring? Let them swindle me?”

Darran shrugged. “That depends on the merchant you deal with.” He smiled. “But you could start by allowing them to negotiate.” He paused, the fork nearly to his mouth. “You might find you enjoy it.”