Rusk ran her operation from The White Rose, a dirty little pub right beneath the Jester’s bridge which formed a big avenue in the middle of Tower City. The familiar smell of beer and sundust greeted Shield as she walked through the big black door displaying a stylized white rose on its surface. The booths with the usual patrons, mainly veterans, street thugs and dealers. She went to the bar and spoke to the owner, an old man named Lucius. According to the rumors he’d been here since the Merchant King was still a young lad. ‘Need to speak to Rusk.’ Lucius grunted and nodded, which was his way of accepting her request. No need for more words: Shield knew the way. It might look like Rusk’s security consisted of one old man but those with even the smallest bit of street savviness knew the patrons of the White Rose served as a de facto guard for the entrance to her lair. Shield went to a small staircase somewhere in the corner and descended into the tunnels beneath the pub.

Perhaps it was because her daily life involved secrets, rumours and whispers but Rusk knew that perception meant power. Her headquarters were built to evoke the feeling of a lord’s mansion back in Avora: a floor of black and white marble, paintings of provincial landscapes and ancient bronze weaponry hanging from walls of dark wood. Even though Shield was a regular, the interior of Rusk’s place never ceased to amaze her with its splendor. An army of clerics, seated at desks, spread out towards the back wall. All of them were scribbling on pieces of parchment. Letters and reports, no doubt. Small street urchins entered and left the space through some other exit than the one Shield had taken. They whispered stuff to the clerics who on their turn took a new piece of parchment and started scribbling away. This was the epicentre of Rusk’s operation: a network of eyes and ears connected through ink and spoken words and all duly noted to end up in the collection of the mistress of secrets. Her envoy took her to a door off the side and guided her through another series of offices and archives. Finally, they stopped at a big double door with brass handles. He pointed towards the door and let Shield enter.

‘If it isn’t my favorite bar brawler! ‘ Rusk smiled and waved her inside. Her stone-elf heritage showed herself through her greyish skin, pointy ears and white hair. The only thing in which Rusk differed from the other stone elves was her demeanour. She had none of the eternal stoicism and seemed to smile all the time. Of course, this was only a facade, a way to mask her real feelings towards her clients. Shield knew Rusk long enough not to confide too much in her friendly attitude. Rumours on the streets told of people who’d wrongly assumed they were in the clear, just because Rusk had offered them some tea and they talked about the weather during their latest audience. Those same people would be found at the bottom of some tower, pushed to let gravity do the dirty work. Shield looked at the office. Nothing had changed since her last visit. Stacks of books surrounded the young woman as if she’d created her own version of Tower City out of books. ‘Please, sit down. How did it go?’ Even though it had been the wisest decision to come here, Shield suddenly regretted it. Debt or not, why wouldn’t she just go to the docks, even if it was only to catch a glimpse of the Collector? She forced herself to smile. ‘It went well, thank you for the intel.’ Rusk waved her hand in a rather nonchalant way before Shield’s face. ‘Nothing much to it. But before we go on to discuss your standing debt, I wanted to warn you.’ Shield didn’t know how to react. Was this a trap? ‘Warn me? About what? I don’t need it, I’m only here to pay you back.’ Suddenly, the smile vanished from Rusk’s face. ‘I’m not kidding. I don’t want anything for it. Listen to me.’ Shield just nodded. She’d never seen the stone elf without a smile before. ‘I don’t know what you want with that Collector-woman but I want to make clear that you should think deeply before you proceed. She’s your average criminal and her business here isn’t some run-of-the-mill smuggling operation. People have been disappearing and all whispers lead in her direction. You know me, I’m not fond of handing out freebies so that should indicate how serious I am. I like you, Shield. So please watch out for yourself.’ The mercenary felt even more regret. I don’t need anyone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. The Collector should be afraid of me and not the other way around. ‘Thanks, Rusk. I don’t know how to even properly tell you how thankfu..’ She shook a finger. A smile returned to her face. ‘No, no, no. Shut up, please. Just don’t take my warning lightly. And never tell anyone I just gave you free intel.’ ‘I won’t, I promise!’ The stone elf took a piece of parchment from the pile on her desk. ‘Now, concerning your debt. There’s a contact of mine who searches for a particular person. Find him for me and we’re good.’ ‘Who is it?’ Rusk read aloud from her parchment: ‘Ikaros Flint, a young mage who recently fled Avora. My contact wants him alive and well, so please treat him properly. You have until the end of the week.’ The stone elf extended her hand and Shield shook it. Shouldn’t be too hard. As she left Rusk’s office, she had already decided what her next stop would be. Straight to the harbor. Shield itched with dread and anticipation to face the woman who killed her mother so many years ago. Ten years of waiting and nightmares and now, she would finally get to see her again, the bitch with the axe. I’m coming for you.

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