Lira and I had spent the following day scouting the location where we could initiate the deal. This meant that the first task was to choose where the exchange would take place. It had to be somewhere public enough to prevent ambushes yet discreet enough that Veren & Sons wouldn't feel watched. The location needed to strike a delicate balance—visible enough to deter foul play but obscure enough to avoid drawing attention from third parties... and from where we could observe and follow the one we will hire to retrieve the payment.
It wasn't easy, being new to the city, but we managed to narrow down the possibilities by nighttime. In the end, we decided on a small, somewhat less popular shrine near one of the smaller markets' edges in the western part of town. Quite a way from the inn we were staying at to make it extra safe. At first glance, the shrine seemed abandoned, with its stone steps cracked and weeds growing between them. When we passed by, a few beggars and drifters occasionally took shelter there, but no one paid much attention to them. Later on, asking around, we found out it was because that particular shrine was supposed to be the gathering ground of such people, kept around and open for those who were desperate. Honestly, it was perfect—neutral ground, inconspicuous, and easy to monitor from a distance. If we hire an urchin to be there, nobody would even bat an eye.
"This place has seen better days," Lira remarked, crouching to examine the shrine's weathered stone basin when we visited, choosing a point when we saw no beggars loitering around it. The place was chipped and stained, having multiple, perfectly shaped holes around to make a dropoff as if it was placed here, directly for what I needed. "You think they'll actually come and do it?"
"No idea. But I do believe that they'll come," I answered, my voice low as I scanned the surrounding area, trying not to sound too loud. Who knows if another beggar was somewhere around here, sleeping in some hidden spot we didn't know about? "They're probably desperate. Or at least, I do hope so that they are because desperate people take risks."
"Like we do?" Lira asked as she straightened, brushing dirt from her hands with a smile.
"No, we are being opportunistic here," I replied with a half-joke.
"Let's hope they're not desperate enough to do something stupid, though."
"Yeah. That would be nice." I nodded, looking at the old main shrine, where a cracked, round stone stood, carved in the shape of a fat cat. "Maybe we should pray a little? For luck?"
"Why not?" She giggled, following me, although I had no idea what kind of prayer would be appropriate. But... a bit of extra luck, even if it isn't real, would be helpful... I did reincarnate, after all, so... God could be listening in on us.
Anyway, next, we needed a safe way to deliver my message. That meant it was time to hire some street urchins. It wasn't hard; there were plenty of orphans and young kids who moved unseen in Velgrada, running errands, delivering notes, and listening in on conversations to gain some money. One of them could be paid to carry the letter, unaware of its true significance, and probably do it safely as someone has to be a total psycho to hurt a child. Still, to avoid connecting the kid back to us, Lira would be the one handling it—while being disguised.
We can risk nothing.
Surprisingly, that part took longer than I expected. The sun had already dipped lower in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the city, when Lira finally changed into an oversized hooded cloak of mine. To sell the look, I slightly dirtied her clothes to make her blend in with the poorer folk of the city. He hair was dyed into a more sandy color, and her face hid behind painted lines that made her look even older. For a final touch, she smeared a touch of soot on her face and bound her hair tightly, making herself look less like an adventurer and more like a hard-working woman or a beggar. Seeing the finished product, I watched her with a smirk as she turned in front of me, posing and smiling.
"How do I look?" she asked, her voice muffled slightly by the hood and scarf she wore now.
"Like someone I wouldn't want to bump into in an alley," I replied, my tone teasing, but my eyes remained serious. "Perfect. Still... be careful. Don't use your actual voice either; try to sound rough."
"Mhm, I'll keep that in mind," she muttered and gave me a small smile before heading out, ensuring me with his eyes that it would go smoothly.
Finding an urchin was easy. Choosing a boy who seemingly was young enough to lack the experience to swindle us, Lira drifted near him. He was young and fast, and from what we observed, he was used to delivering messages. At the moment, out of work, he was sitting on a crate at the edge of an ally and idly tossing pebbles at the street. His clothes were patched and frayed, but even from my spot, tens of meters away, I noticed that his eyes were sharp, darting around as if constantly looking for a chance to offer his services to possible clients. Maybe that is why he wasn't taken aback when Lira approached him casually, offering a copper coin as she crouched beside him.
"You deliver messages?"
"Hm?" the boy eyed her warily, flicking his gaze to the coin and then back to her face, which was half hidden behind her hood. "It depends on where and how many letters."
"It is a simple job," Lira said, keeping her voice low. "Take this one letter to Veren & Sons' trade house. Hand it to one of their men, say it's important, then leave." She had already withdrawn the copper coin, and instead, she held up a silver piece between her fingers, sweetening the deal. "Do it right, and this is yours."
"Um!" The boy snatched the letter quickly, tucking it into his tunic as if he was offered heaven for such an easy job. "You got it," he said, then darted off, disappearing into the maze of streets with the agility of someone who had spent his entire life navigating the city's underbelly. He was indeed a good choice... Now. We had to wait for the next phase.
...
....
.....
At the Veren & Sons trade house, the atmosphere had been tense since the day their supposedly safe route was hit, and they were robbed blind. They had already spent a lot of time trying to find out who did it, but they only ran into walls. The only thing they could fume about was the thought that it had to be done by one of their competitors, wanting them gone from the city.
Inside their candlelit main office, four men sat around a heavy wooden table, the air thick with their collective frustration and with the smoke coming from their pipes and cigarettes. It was the only vice that could keep their nerves from snapping... as they couldn't afford to get drunk, not when there was still a chance to make it right. The deadline for delivery was still a week away.
Markus Veren, the head of the operation and namesake of their group, drummed his fingers against the wood, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth croaked under the pressure. He was a broad man in his forties with the weathered look of a warrior merchant who had fought all his life to carve out his current place in the city's trade circles. Then, there was his younger brother, Willem, his closest advisor, who was seated beside him, arms crossed tightly. Across from them sat Rellen, Markus's son, who was also the foreman, and a nervous clerk named Edvin, who Willem adopted into the family.
"That shipment was supposed to be secured," Willem muttered, his voice tight with anger. They have already gone through this multiple times, but with no change in their situation... it always came back to it.
"Tell that to the bastards who took it," Rellen replied, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. His hands were calloused, his face lined with the stress of managing the warehouse and trying to take everything to inventory because if they ran out of time and their client didn't get the goods... They will need to compensate him somehow. "Our guards were outnumbered. Those who did it were professionals, not street thugs. They knew exactly what to hit, when, where, and they left no witnesses."
"Fuck them!" Markus exhaled sharply, the grinding sound of his teeth cutting through the room like a butcher's knife. "I don't care how good they were! The real problem is that Lord Denvar himself ordered those potions... Our first contact with the nobility in this shithole! If we don't recover them soon, our contract is finished. And if Denvar pulls out…" He trailed off, letting the weight of his words sink in. "We can forget making a business with anyone worthwhile in any of the seven cities..."
They all knew what that meant. Their entire business could collapse overnight, meaning that whoever did it was probably after just that—to see them fail. Markus was about to speak up again, but their conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Edvin jumped slightly before getting up and opening the door, revealing a young, scrappy-looking boy.
"Letter for Veren & Sons," the urchin announced, waving the parchment. "Real important."
"Sorry, boss... But he slipped through!" a guard gasped, appearing behind the kid in a rush, pale from fear. But... a letter?
What was happening? This... was... weird. Realizing something wasn't adding up, Edvin took the note before the others would explode, their tempers overflowing already. The moment he did so, the kid just giggled, and then, with quick feet, he dodged the coming guards while sprinting away like a slippery eel.
"Close the door!" Markus ordered, also realizing something was about to happen. "And go catch that kid!"
While the guards were scrambling, Edvin quickly flipped the envelope over. There was no sender's name, only a single word scrawled in rough but deliberate handwriting: Shade.
"What is this?" Willem muttered as Edvin handed it to Markus, who broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
"I don't know, but let's not dance around it!" He snorted as he read it aloud, his voice steady but laced with tension on what they would hear.
"To the merchants of Veren & Sons,
I know where your stolen goods are.
For a fair price, I will tell you where to find them. If you want them back, bring 200 gold to the abandoned shrine near the eastern market before sundown tomorrow. Drop the payment in the stone bowl, left of the main building, under the shade of the red roof. If you comply, you'll get your second letter shortly after. If not, the thieves will move the goods, and your chance of recovering what they took will be lost.
Whoever you send, send him alone. No guards, no tricks. If I sense a trap, the deal is off.
-Shade."
A heavy silence fell over the room for a straight minute before, finally, one of them had enough of it.
"Is this a fucking joke?" Willem scoffed, his voice rising. "Some street rat trying to swindle us! Burn that shit! I bet the bastards who took it are just mocking us!"
"If it is a prank, they chose a damn good time to do it," Rellen muttered, leaning back in his chair. His tone was grim. "Sounds like someone with real information."
"Are you sure?" Willem snorted, "If they indeed know where it is, they would take it for themselves! Or ask for more gold! 200? Really? That's cheap. Dirt cheap. So cheap that this has to be fake!"
"I'm not so sure..." Markus whispered as he stared at the letter, tapping his finger against the table. "Shade… Never heard of them before."
"They could be..." Edvin shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "People who don't know what they have. Maybe they just witnessed it and figured out who the crates belonged to. Or... Maybe they aren't after gold."
"They could have already moved the goods, and we are paying for empty boxes if we go through with this... deal," Rellen added, thinking about it.
"Or they want the gold and maybe our cooperation in the future," Edvin said again, voicing his ideas, but they all knew it was simply guesswork.
"200... Still, a lot to simply throw it away." Willem bemoaned, but his voice was already telling him he would do it if they agreed to it.
"Not compared to what we'll lose if we don't recover that shipment," Markus stated, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. He leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening as he weighed the risks. "If they do have real information, we have no choice but to take the risk. We are running out of time."
"It could be the thieves themselves setting a trap," Willem said warningly, his voice tight with suspicion. "Luring us in."
"Possibly," Markus admitted, his tone just as heavy. "But they don't ask for that much gold. If they wanted to lure us into a trap to rob us a second time... They could have just added another zero to it. Instead, they want us to drop it off and wait... So we can also put someone on the gold, trailing it or the one who takes it away."
"So?" Rellen asked, his voice gruff. "What's the plan?"
"Well..." Markus folded the letter and stood up, his presence commanding the room, knowing it was time to act. "We go along with it—for now. I'll handle the drop personally. But we'll be watching. If this Shade tries anything, we'll be ready!"