Mithril, also known as the Saint of Metals by humans and the Sacred Silver by the dwarven people, while generally called the Metal of Myth. The word Mithril is a common keyword found in all the heroic tales of old and it is a metal of great scarcity enough to be considered the rarest and most precious metal in the world.

The Sword of Arthur, the Shield of Athena, the Plate of Joan, the Boots of Hermes, the Visage of Heimdall, the Shroud of Florence, and the Lyre of Amadeus; each and every one of those items is a holy artifact and from Mithril they were all made.

According to the Duergar Myth, Mithril is mined from the core of silver vines, blessed by the God of the Heavens and the Earth, Mithril is God's boon to the dwarven people and a miracle they can't live without. While many other races have always coveted Mithril, no other race has ever managed to produce it. It is unique to the dwarves, to their prayers, and their rituals.

Even if humans were to mine all the silver ore in the world, the Blessing of Mithril wouldn't grant them any, for only a dwarf can do it. Dwarves consider this process like that of giving birth to a child and every bit of Mithril discovered is given a name by its miner. Miners tend to chant prayers to the silver ore as they mine it with special songs of warmth and love until it yields Mithril.

And even among dwarves, not just anyone can shape Mithril, no one can simply hammer it or dent it with the best tools at their disposal, only the chiefs of the clans are the ones who are passed down the secret prayers of shaping Mithril.

That's not the end even, Mithril is a metal that is impossible to destroy by any conventional or arcane means. It only listens to the secret prayer and is involved with a lot of mysticism and secrecy no one can even procure. That is why it is not just a simple metal, it is both a miracle and a blessing, some even went as far as saying it is a living metal as all Mithirl artifacts seem to have a mind of their own.

As for the metal itself, Mithril looks like common silver but it never loses its gleam, never gets dirty, never needs polishing, and never accumulates scratches from being collided with harder objects. That is why this Mithril coin caused quite a stir with the tiny bit of scratches that cover its blank surface.

While flipping it in his hand, Prince Liam kept inspecting the silvery gleam of Mithril and admiring its appearance under the moonlight. It felt magical in every way possible and if not for him being an educated man, he would have preferred the gleam of silver over the luster of gold.

As he sat lazily in his parked carriage, the knights that guard it from all sides moved out of the way and the door was opened. Edmond Black and Ian Grayson hopped inside and sat in front of the Prince.

"Your Highness." Ian spoke.

"They slipped off once again?" The Prince asked.

"We apologize, your Highness."

"It's okay. We never even caught them once in the first place. Still, the movement your people made was seen from a mile away, it is nothing strange we lost them again, Ian."

"But your Highness, this is the closest we've ever got to them. Even House Black has failed at…"

Ian wanted to justify his failure but his heart almost stopped from the cold dangerous stare from Edmond's lazy eyes.

"Hehe!" The Price laughed at the little interaction in front of him, "Let it go, Edmond. You know what Ian is like."

"An insufferable imp?" Edmond asked.

"Come now." The Prince cooled off the tense atmosphere between the two, "I think this coin is useless now. Here, Ian."

The Prince tossed the Mithril coin to Ian who almost jumped after it and held it near to his chest.

"Thank you, your Highness." Ian received the coin and looked at it as if someone had found his long lost love, "I promise your Highness, I'll find the Duergar that made this and throw them in the pen."

"This tiny bit of Mithril is worth what now? A few hundred gold coins?" The Prince asked.

"A thousand, your Highness." Ian said and smiled, "Heh! We gather enough of those and we won't need House Moore anymore."

"Look at that!" Edmond shook his head, finding what Ian said ridiculous.

"Don't mock him, Edmond. After all, we can only rely on Ian and his people for the time being. Robert hasn't made any progress yet." The Prince said.

"Your Highness, that incompetent Robert won't even give you the support I can. So far, I have gathered enough Duergar craftsmen to make all that we want. I also have people posted everywhere, your Highness, just say the word and it will all happen." Ian said with an ambitious smile growing on his face.

"Can you acquire the power of the Fire Signet from the Moores? Can you make me Fire Vouchers?" The Prince asked.

"…" Ian fell silent knowing that the answer was no.

"That's why everyone is essential, Ian. You worry about your business doing all the good work you've been doing and let Robert Moore do his. Soon, he will be the Master of House Moore and we will get all the financial support we need." The Prince said.

"I understand, your Highness. In the meantime, I have made a small fortune for our current project. This is the small ledger as promised." Ian took out a journal from his suit.

"Give it to Edmond, he understands this sort of thing." The Prince said and Ian did as he was told.

Edmond skimmed through the pages and somehow seemed impressed.

"That would be more than enough, Your Highness. Until the coming year, at least." Edmond said.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"You got that much money?" The Prince asked Ian.

"My enterprises are bearing their fruits, your Highness. I have diversified the investments from the money you have bestowed upon me and made a few stashes around the city for safekeeping. I can proudly say that the 500,000 pounds I received are now 5,000,000." Ian said and Edmond confirmed with a nod after checking the book.

It was admirable, to say the least. Ian's ability to make money is second only to the Moores. However, it doesn't even scratch the surface of the money that the Prince can get if he still has the Moores by his side.

"Well done, Ian. If you need anything else, talk to Edmond." The Prince said to dismiss Ian.

"There were those customs officials who were trying to track our import shipments but it is not urgent for now. If you excuse me, your Highness."

Ian left the carriage and Edmond made a face as if he was finally relieved.

"You don't like him." The Prince remarked.

"He's hateful! What kind of a 17-year-old can control this much power?" Edmond said.

"The kind that inherited it from someone. Ian tends to like boasting about his achievements while he's merely taking credit for the work of others. Still, one day, he'll replace you at your job and you will get to have more naps as you've always wanted." The Prince smiled.

"That's not even funny. Of all the people you want as your aide, it shouldn't be that imp." Edmond said.

"He's Grayson, a talented one even. It is not a talent I should waste." The Prince said.

Edmond shook his head and looked away through the window. His feelings towards Ian were not that of rivalry, he just found Ian to be an unpleasant character. Everyone from the Prince's faction relies on Edmond one way or the other because his services are needed and his specialty is fixing tough situations. On the other hand, Ian is very capable of handling himself yet he always leaves things for Edmond to clean after him as if he was trying to remind Edmond that his actual job is not beside the Prince but rather in his shadows.

Edmond would be happy to hand his job over to someone else as long as they are capable enough but Ian, he just can't stomach him.

But right as he was looking away, someone knocked on the carriage's door and opened it.

"Your Highness."

"Richard, you've cleaned up the place?" The Price asked.

"Yes. Their escape route was found but their traces have gone cold. However, it seemed we almost managed to trap some of them before they could burn all their documents. Unfortunately, magic was used and they disappeared without a trace." Richard Marshall said.

"Magic?" The Prince asked, "Was there any record of a Sorcerer in their midst?"

"No, this is a first." Edmond replied with his interest piqued as well.

"This is the first trace we have. Richard, were there any unique traits to the magic, could you recognize its owner?" The Prince asked with excitement.

"I'm sorry, your Highness. It seemed like a ritual that someone performed rather than a spell from a ring. There was no specific uniqueness in the residual magic energy." Richard said.

"Tsk, such a wasted chance!" The Prince seemed frustrated, "But a sorcerer with a skill that can cast rituals this fast during an escape? That's not someone simple."

"I agree." Edmond said, "We'll check the records, make a list of names, and narrow it down."

"Good. Hmmm…" The Prince said and started thinking about something, "Well, if it is Magic, let's invite Ronald Morgan with us next time. He'll be of help."

The Prince's idea was a good one on any day of the week but Richard and Edmond reacted weirdly hearing Ronald's name. It seems the two of them still can't forget the night of Spring Festival when Richard killed a male student and Ronald assaulted a female student.

The unpleasant memory of that day still echoes in the High Society and those who know the full truth on the matter are only four individuals, three of them are present in this scene.

"Alright, Edmond. Let's head home for the night. We need to write a report of today's pursuit to my Father." Prince Liam said.

"Worry not, your Highness. The movement of those insurgents has increased lately as we are tightening the grip on them. I am sure that next time, the pursuit will bear fruit."

"Good. I believe we still have one of those coins so make sure to find out where it leads and make sure to coordinate better than today."

"By your orders."

With that, the carriage of Prince Liam moved, returning to the palace after a night of chasing dangerous conspirators and rebels.

***

In the depth of his thoughts, Voros sat cross-legged on the floor, with the Mithril coin clasped in his hand. Waves of inner turmoil and emotional distress washed over him. He looked at the coin as if trying to figure out a trace of his lover, Anastasia, but there was even a limit to the abilities of Mithril.

"Anna…" He whispered to the coin calling for her but it never spoke back.

He held it against his forehead, trying out something but it didn't seem to be working.

"I… I am not mystic."

He said and surprisingly handed the coin back to Vivian. Duergars become very upset when it comes to Mithril being in the hands of others, it is their sacred duty to safeguard it for their clans but what clan was left for Voros?

Still, rather than receiving the coin from Voros, Vivian chose to push her nobility and class aside and sat on the ground next to him.

"Hey, Voros. You want to let something out?"

As she held his hand back with the coin still in it with her left, her right patted him on the back.

"You're ViTech family now, whatever it is, I'll take care of it." She said.

"Mithril… can be her." Voros said.

"I figured that out once I realized it was Mithril. I'm sorry." Vivian nodded.

"But how can that be Mithril?" Logan said as he crouched in front of them, "The coin is full of scratches. Even Mithril can't scratch Mithril."

"I want to ask the same question." Vivian said.

"Can't be…" Voros said, "Scratches… intentional."

"How did you get that Mithril coin, Princess?" Logan asked.

"Lady Agatha Moore passed it on to me. She said it was left for me by James before he leaves for Avalon." Vivian replied.

"James… he never mentioned anything like that to me." Logan said, finding it strange that his best friend left him in the dark about a Mithril coin.

"I was upset that Lady Agatha never invested in ViTech but this much Mithril is almost equal to what my father gave me. Not that I am mad enough to cash it out, of course."

A million pounds, that's the worth of the Mithril coin.

"Voros, do you want to keep it?" Vivian asked Voros, offering him the priceless treasure.

"Princess, that coin's worth is outrageous, you can't simply…"

"Stop it, Logan. I don't care how James acquired it, it belongs to its people, not to me, and certainly not to some museum." Vivian said, showing the essence of what it is to be a Medjay.

"Thanks… but… not my kin." Voros refused to receive the coin.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

Voros seemed upset and didn't want to speak.

"I think he means that this Mithril doesn't belong to his clan, that's why he can't accept it." Jane said.

It seemed that she was right. Voros had a lot on his mind right now and Vivian wasn't anything if not a loyal friend.

"Logan, take Voros up to have a drink. You are allowed to drink as well." She said.

"Heard that, old man? Ready for a few rounds?"

"Not old!"

"Prove it then."

Logan understood his task of being Voros' wingman in this tough hour he was having and had no qualms about sharing a drink with a Duergar.

As for Vivian, she looked at the Mithril coin, or rather the scratches on it. If these scratches are intentional, they must mean something. She walked to the nearest table and laid down an empty piece of paper before fully drawing the scratches on both sides of the coin and stashing it away.

Now, it is time to try and figure out what it all means.