I let out a long, low sigh as I walked through the halls, feeling sweat bead on my temples and run down my back. It took every bit of training and self-control to regulate my breathing and keep my features neutral.

What I had done could be taken as an insult to a noble. Most would, in fact. It carried several risks, including a chance that Markov would lash out and strike me down. I doubted he would, but there had been a brief moment where the thought crossed my mind.

That, and the irritating fact that if he did so, Markov would face no real repercussions. Sure, there were laws against murder, or we would be cutting each other down left and right, but nobles were rarely held to them. He would lose some honor, have to repay the Esttons, and make an enemy of the Duke, but none of that would raise the dead.

I comforted myself with the knowledge that the Baron had 'struck' first. I might be a commoner, but Julian was a master of the Academy and a noble. As his representative, any insult to me was an insult to Julian, giving me some protection.

Precisely what the Baron planned was unclear, but I had a few guesses. I suspected he was trying to force my hand and eke out a promise that would hurt Julian. Some servants might speak out of turn and say the wrong thing, losing face for whoever they represented. If they did so, the blame fell onto their heads, and their lords would have their position weakened.

Or maybe Markov had another deal in mind and wanted to see if I could make a better offer. He seemed greedy enough to try, but it also seemed too shortsighted, in my opinion.

Whatever his goal, the simple fact was I had no ground to give. I had two thousand gold pieces and nothing else, which gave me nothing to add. The only options were to go through with the existing deal or walk away. By doing the latter, I shifted the pressure back onto Markov.

It was not a perfect solution, but there was nothing else I could do at this point. Well, nothing besides provide Julian with an update.

A half-hour later, I was back in my room at the Pale Pauper, sitting on my bed. I locked the door before reaching into my spatial pouch, pulling out a stone large enough to fit in one palm. One side was smooth, but the other had a few deep grooves carved into it and filled with silver. The metal itself hummed with wind mana, and I knew an identical twin sat on Julian's desk back in Volaris.

Each set was single-use only and cost more gold than I cared to think about, but Julian had given them to me for a reason. So, I closed my eyes, pushed mana into the enchantment, and triggered it.

There was an echo of energy as the spell activated, sending an impulse to its matching twin. I waited, knowing that, hundreds of miles away, Julian's stone should be glowing and sending out soft pulses of mana. A few minutes later, a light pressure settled onto my temples as the effect snapped into place.

"I'd hoped you wouldn't need to contact me, truth be told. How goes your task, Vayne?" Julian asked, his voice echoing in my mind.

Each set of stones was an extension of telepathic magic, using an enchantment I did not understand. Using them, you could communicate across vast distances, making for a faster and more convenient method than physical letters. I had no idea how Julian had acquired not one but three sets, but I had my suspicions.

I adjusted myself on the bed before responding, "I have run into a problem, master."

Julian mainly remained silent as I summarized the last few days, including my unexpected meeting with Baron Markov. He asked a few clarifying questions, verifying details. I had a feeling he was taking notes.

"I should've expected as much, honestly. Markov and I have never been on the best of terms. Still, this is a bit...well, it's rude, to be sure." he said after a few seconds, audibly sighing.

"I-you are not angry, sir?" I asked almost without meaning. Girem would have had my head for somehow letting a deal fall apart. In his mind, a decade of training meant I should have somehow preserved our agreement. He demanded nothing but success.

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"Well, I'd have preferred if things went perfect, but it sounds like the Baron is dealing in bad faith. Unexpected, but not the end of the world."

I remained silent, nodding a few times before realizing my mistake. As my face burned, I replied, "I think I understand, master."

"Good. Now, I want you to extend your stay a few days longer. Let Markov sweat a bit and see if he comes to his senses. We make mistakes in the heat of the moment, and he might realize that making an enemy of me isn't worth a bit of extra gold."

I did not think two thousand pieces was "a bit of extra gold," but that was a matter of perspective. After a second, I said, "Yes, sir."

"Excellent! Contact me if the trade goes through. Or if you have anything else worth updating me about, of course. Oh, but if not, don't use up the other two stones, or I'll have you work to replace them! Good luck!"

The stone faded, and the silver turned darker, signifying that the enchantment had burned out. It was essentially worthless now, but I set it by my bedside table. Later tonight, I would take a closer look and copy down anything I could glean from it.

In the meantime, I did not want to sit around idly and wait for the Baron to suddenly decide he wanted to deal with us. If there was one thing both Julian and Girem had drilled into me, it was the power of information. And I intended to get more of it.

The innkeeper was behind the counter again when I made my way downstairs. I approached the bar, and he ducked underneath, returning with a clear mug in hand. When I sat, he filled it with frothing ale before placing it in front of me.

"Evenin', my lord," he said politely, smiling and nodding once.

"Good evening...apologies, but I never got your name."

"Nick, sire."

"Pleasure to meet you, Nick. And Vayne will work." I said, returning his smile and taking a drink from the mug. I nearly grimaced but managed to hide it at the last moment behind a neutral face.

"How are you enjoying Aresford?" Nick asked, leaning on the counter and facing me.

"Cold." I remarked with a chuckle, "And dusty. Something tells me both of those never quite go away, though."

Nick laughed, shaking his head, "No, they don't. It's a bit warmer in summer, but hot. Not that we mind. It gets hot workin' in the mines and forges, y' know?"

"I do, actually. You worked as a miner, then? Who for?"

"Count Vorin, sire." Nick responded, "Like my father and his father before him."

Vorin was another one of the nobles who controlled the mines. Not historically as powerful as Markov, but from what I had read, he was on the rise.

"And how was it?"

He chuckled, "Hard, but honest. It brings food to the table, but it takes a toll over the years. I got lucky and found a good vein of silver. The Count rewards valuable finds, and I used the extra money to buy this place. Now, my son won't have to work himself into an early grave."

I nodded and smiled, responding, "I am glad for your good fortune."

Truthfully, I did not care much about his life story, but establishing rapport was important. At least, if I wanted him to tell me what I really needed to know.

"You must have had some dealings with Baron Markov too, then? Or his workers?" I asked, trying to sound casual. It was not much of a jump; Markov was historically the dominant force in the mines, and anyone who worked there long enough dealt with him, however distantly.

"Sometimes. Lord Markov owned the mines further west of where I worked."

"What did you hear about him?"

"I-nothing of note, my lord," Nick said in a tone I recognized. It was the same one I used when I was taking care not to speak out of turn or insult my social 'betters'.

I weighed my options for a moment before again digging a hand in the pouch by my side. I had already overpaid the man and his son, and maybe I could leverage that to get answers, but a few more coins would loosen his tongue more. You tempt a dragon with gold, not a spear.

And if this led me to success, it was not the time to be frugal.

The silver coins made a soft clinking sound as I piled them in a short column, sliding them across the counter and briefly meeting Nick's eyes. The moment my hand lifted away, he leaned closer, wiping the counter with the rag in his hand. When he finished, the coins had vanished.

His eyes glanced at the door behind me, and he leaned even closer. I could catch hints of his lunch on his breath and again hid a grimace.

"Can't say much about what I've seen with my own eyes. And I haven't worked in the mines in years, but people talk. Word about town is Markov's been working his people hard. Diggin' deeper into the mountains, looking for new veins of ore and such."

His words jarred another thing loose from my memory. Julian had me dig through financial records before my trip, and I recalled that Markov had been aggressively expanding his business over the last few years. Increasing ore shipments, hiring more workers, and such.

If true, why had his home appeared so ramshackle? And why was he selling his ancestor's secrets? Both of those pointed to a man desperate for gold, which clashed with the wealth the mines should generate. There were still too many unknowns.

I hid a sigh as I drained my mug, placing it down and plastering a fake smile on my face.

"One more thing. Do you, by chance, know where Baron Markov's workers tend to spend their time? I think I would like to buy them a drink or two."