Corvus had been wandering aimlessly through the narrow streets of Rhazgord for two days. The tense expression on his face was a reflection of the turmoil in his mind. The uncertainty of his deal with Belisarius had almost swallowed him. He was looking for a solution at every step, but he could not find a way out. Belisarius insisted on a long-term agreement, and Corvus felt the weight of it on his shoulders. The humming echoing through the streets of Rhazgord mingled with the chaos of his thoughts.

Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, there was a sudden knock on the door of his room. Corvus looked up from his thoughts and looked at the door. It was one of the guards of Sanguinar's mansion. "One of the city's merchants has arrived. He says he has gifts for Sanguinar," the guard said in a strong, cold voice.

Corvus was in no mood for such business. His mind was still locked in the treaty with Belisarius, and such matters as gifts from merchants were nothing more than a burden to him at the moment. He frowned and sighed wearily. "Let Kaelyra deal with it," he cut himself off. His eyes drifted off into space again, and he was about to return to the depths of his thoughts when he realised that the door had not yet closed. The guard stood there like a statue.

"Kaelyra is not here," the guard said in a dull voice.

Corvus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, unable to suppress his distress. The thoughts echoing in his mind were silenced for a moment, replaced by an emptiness that left him wondering who the merchant was. He walked with heavy steps towards the throne room. The echo of his steps pierced the cold and sharp silence in the corridor.

When he entered the throne room, the merchant was soon brought in. The merchant stood before Corvus and grinned with great ugliness. The man was someone Corvus did not like at all. He was the owner of the inn where Belisarius had stayed before. Now he was grinning at Corvus as if he were a friend. The merchant's fawning behaviour was more annoying than ever.

With great panache, the merchant began to describe the gifts he had brought with him. As he praised each gift with exaggerated words, his eyes were constantly measuring Corvus' reaction. Corvus would normally not be interested in such gifts, seeing them as simple bribes. This time, however, a brightly jewelled sword caught his eye. The sword was so extravagantly adorned that it was impossible to use it in a real battle. But these ornaments strangely attracted Corvus' attention.

The merchant became excited when he realised that Corvus was examining the sword. The ugly glint in his eyes became even more pronounced, and a fawning smile spread across his lips. This was his big chance to get Corvus' attention. He immediately took action, exaggerating his fawning behaviour even more, and approached Corvus.

He began to speak with an angry expression: "I'm afraid my staff are very incompetent, sir, I ordered a sword like the one you hold in your hand, but unfortunately it is not ready yet." The smile on his face was ugly and fake, like the sly grin of a snake. "I will see that the sword and my other gifts reach you as soon as possible."

As Corvus watched this scene, filled with the merchant's empty and false promises, a wave of anger rose within him. The merchant's cynical demeanour added a new layer to the worries in his mind.

A look of stern disgust spread across Corvus' face. Ever since the day he was born, he had hated flatterers. The merchant before him might be one of the most miserable, phony people he had ever seen. He looked at the ornate sword in his hand; it symbolised how superficial and empty the merchant's approach to him was. It was just an ornament for show, useless in real combat. Just as the merchant's loyalty to him was superficial.

Suddenly, he began to walk towards the merchant. The merchant backed away slowly, echoing Corvus' hard footsteps. There was fear in his eyes. Corvus grew more menacing with every step, closing in like a predator cornering its prey. When the merchant's back was against the cold stone wall, he realised he had nowhere to run. A look of horror appeared on his face. His breathing quickened, his heart was pounding.

He closed his eyes and tried to shrink himself to protect his body. He had accepted death. He thought he had no chance of survival against Corvus, one of the most ruthless of the Rhazgord. The blow he expected never came. His rapidly beating heart became more pronounced in the echoing silence. His breathing slowed, and he finally summoned the courage to open his eyes. Corvus was still standing right in front of him, but instead of the anger he expected, there was a strange smile in his eyes. Corvus began to laugh lightly.

The merchant was shocked by this sudden change. Gradually, fear gave way to surprise, and he too began to laugh, as if it were part of a joke. But the laugh was shaky and weak. The laugh of fear was interrupted by Corvus' curious gaze. Corvus leaned towards the merchant with a curious expression on his face.

"There is something I would very much like to know, merchant," he said. Corvus' voice was as strong and authoritative as ever, but there was an underlying tone of questioning. He didn't even bother to remember the merchant's name; remembering the names of merchants was an unnecessary detail in Corvus' eyes.

The merchant replied, his voice still trembling, "It is impossible for me to know what you, with your vast knowledge, do not know, sir!" The look of disgust on Corvus's face became even more pronounced at these words of flattery. The merchant's pretentious behaviour was too repulsive for him to bear.

Corvus took a step closer, frowning, and his strong voice echoed through the room: "Stop sucking up!" His voice seemed to shake the stone walls of the room. For a moment the merchant thought his eardrums had burst. He fearfully put his hands to his ears and checked for blood. He was relieved to realise that his fingers were clean, but the wave of fear in his heart still had not passed. Corvus's eyes were locked on the merchant and the anger on his face had not subsided.

"What do you trade?" Corvus asked, his tone far from the diplomatic speech the merchant was familiar with. It was an unexpected question. The merchant was surprised that Corvus had become interested in trade. The trade routes were as unforgiving as the battlefields, and the mighty warriors of the Rhazgord could easily secure them if Corvus stepped in. Possibilities quickly began to swirl in the merchant's mind. This could be a great opportunity for him.

The merchant began to rub his hands together excitedly. It was another gesture Corvus hated, but this time Corvus' expression did not change. He still retained his curiosity. The merchant began to speak carefully, but his fawning words were back on his tongue: "Sir, your beautiful city..." But the anger in Corvus' eyes caused the merchant to interrupt his words. The threat in his eyes silenced the merchant.

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The merchant took a deep breath and gave his answer directly, this time without fawning. "Sir, I usually buy dairy products and iron tools and weapons from Rhazgord and sell them to other countries, while my convoys bring back Rhazgord iron ore and some foodstuffs."

In recent days, Corvus had been studying the world of Rhazgord's trade more closely, beginning to understand the dynamics of the market. The goods the merchant mentioned - dairy products, iron tools and weapons - were valuable to Rhazgord, yes. But the merchant's profits from this trade were small compared to the expensive gifts he offered him. He seemed to be spending a fortune on these gifts. Doubts began to creep into Corvus' mind. Either the merchant was really spending a large part of his earnings on these gifts, or he was earning income from another source and hiding it from Corvus. In Corvus' eyes, this was the result of what he called 'insufficient fear' .

Corvus frowned and shook his head, then turned towards the flashy sword he had left in a corner. He picked it up and examined it for a moment; it was too fragile to be of any use in battle. However, this sword would now be used for another purpose. An idea flashed through Corvus' mind, and the stern expression on his face took shape with determination. He unexpectedly brought the sword in his hand to the merchant's neck.

The merchant froze as he suddenly felt the pressure of cold steel against his neck. His eyes widened in horror, his body stilled as if petrified. His heart raced and his pupils dilated like a rabbit's, glowing in the light. He was gasping for breath; it was as if he had swallowed all the air in the world at once, but he could hardly breathe. He wanted to beg, to ask for forgiveness, but the anger and power in Corvus' eyes had driven him into a fear he dared not put into words.

Corvus pressed the sword a little harder against the merchant's neck. "I didn't believe you, merchant!" he thundered, his voice shaking the room once more. As the tip of the sword dug lightly into the merchant's skin, Corvus raised his voice even louder. "What is your true source of income! Tell me!"

The merchant's lips trembled, but he could not utter a single word. His whole body was locked in fear. His eyes darted around in panic, but his breath was coming fast and he could not collect his thoughts. Corvus slowly withdrew the sword. The merchant fell to his knees as soon as he took a deep breath. His old, overweight body shook with fatigue. Silence fell over the room for a moment; the merchant was trying to recover by taking deep breaths.

Corvus paid no attention to the merchant's desperation. When he realised he was still not speaking, he reached for his sword again, but this time the merchant lunged in panic. He began to plead in a trembling voice.

"Please... please, Lord Corvus!" he said in a hoarse, trembling voice. "I swear I will tell you! Just... just give me some time to breathe." The merchant's voice was filled with a survival instinct. Corvus took a few steps back. His instincts told him he was on the right track. This merchant was hiding something from him, and Corvus believed that the answer to the problems in his mind was here.

The merchant finally took a deep breath. Slowly, he tried to gather his words, but there were still traces of fear in his eyes. Silence filled the room as Corvus waited impatiently for the merchant to reveal the truth. The silence was broken by the merchant's words.

"The Stone of Light."

These few words from the merchant's mouth struck Corvus's mind like a lightning bolt. In an instant, all the pieces fell into place. How had he not thought of this? He was laughing at his own stupidity. Every mercenary group that set out against the demons brought back hundreds of kilos of Stones of Light. These precious stones were distributed among the soldiers as trophies, but most soldiers did not know their true value. Some used them to get stronger, others sold them for next to nothing. Merchants made enormous profits by snapping them up cheaply. According to the merchant who trembled in front of Corvus, a small group of merchants, including himself, were after this business. But what was really surprising was the last words of the merchant.

"Sir... A family... I swear to the gods, I don't know which one, but one of the three big families is helping us. I have never met the representatives of that family, so I don't know, but if you spare my life, I will tell you who knows."

This explanation wiped the smile off Corvus' face in an instant. Hearing that one of the three great families of Rhazgord was involved had caught him off guard. This could change everything. His thoughts spun quickly; he thought that this family might even be his own, but he didn't want to dwell on it for now. If he pursued this clue now, all his plans could be turned upside down. Pushing aside the confusion in his mind, he made a mental note of this information for future use. He had something more important to do right now: This important idea from the merchant could change his deal with Belisarius forever.

A look of triumph flashed across Corvus' face, only to be interrupted by the merchant's shaky voice.

"My lord, if you spare my life, I swear to you, I will leave Rhazgord, never to return... Please, spare my life."

As Corvus looked into the merchant's trembling eyes, he remembered something Montis had once told him. Montis had said that the first diplomats of history had come from among the merchants. Corvus was well aware of his lack of diplomacy. This man standing before him now became even more valuable to him. The merchant's cowardly but cunning demeanour had made him more than just a tool of trade. A plan was forming in Corvus' mind.

He took a step back and looked at the merchant with a cold expression. "I will spare you," he said, his voice no longer threatening, but full of firm determination. The merchant looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes. "On top of that, you will continue to trade in the Stone of Light. Only now it will be with me and at a fairer price."

The merchant immediately realised the meaning of these words. Now he had a chance to survive and continue his trade. Moreover, he had the opportunity to make contact with Corvus, the future Sanguinar. This could give him a great advantage. Immediately bowing his head, he rubbed his hands together once more.

"I am ready to do whatever you ask!" he said, his voice filled with unshakable confidence. He had survived and this meant a new beginning for him.

As Corvus watched the merchant's demeanour and the gleam in his eyes, he recognised his cunning. This man had survived by his cunning, and Corvus intended to use it. Diplomacy was not his strong suit, but now, with this merchant's experience, he could improve. He glanced at the jewelled sword still in his hand. It would have been useless in battle, but now it seemed to him a beautiful ornament - just like the opportunity this merchant's words had given him.

"From today," Corvus said, fixing his eyes on the merchant, "you will teach me the art of diplomacy."