"Three gold Fairs," the weasel-faced man smiled, leaning casually against the damp brick wall of the alley. "That is the price for the exact location of Commander Erula’s discarded pets."
I stared at him, my mind rapidly calculating my assets. I didn’t have three gold Fairs. I didn’t even have one. "Who are you exactly?"
"Just a humble strand in the Grey Web," he hissed, his greasy smile widening in the shadows. "We buy and sell whispers across the Empire. We are the beggars you ignore, the barmaids who pour your ale, the merchants who sell your bread. You never know who is listening. Rumor has it our highest masters hold a monopoly on the Shadow Rune, but me? I just deal in raw coin. No coin, no location."
"I don’t have gold," I countered, keeping my posture perfectly still to hide any desperation. "But I have exclusive intelligence. Fresh, unverified, and highly valuable to anyone who trades in military secrets."
His eyes narrowed with greedy curiosity. "Speak."
"The border village of Oakhaven was completely wiped out by the Mud and Blood Coalition. A full massacre. The 7th Legion hasn’t received the official dispatch yet because everyone there is dead. You have a narrow window to sell this information to the military or the merchant guilds before the border riders inevitably arrive."
The man studied my face in the gloom, searching for a micro-expression of deceit. "If you are playing me, little bird, the Grey Web will ensure your throat is slit while you sleep. I will verify this. If the blood is real, you will get your location."
He melted back into the darkness, moving with a silent fluidity that made my skin crawl.
The next afternoon, thel reality of our physical conditioning resumed. I was sparring with Elara and Myra in the muddy courtyard of the Fion Buros estate. The Ember inside us was actively repairing our torn muscles, making our strikes faster and our stamina near-infinite. Myra had just managed to deflect one of my wooden sword strikes when a sudden flutter of wings broke our concentration.
A grey pigeon swooped down from the slate roof, dropping a tiny, tightly rolled parchment directly at my boots before flying off over the high walls.
I picked it up and unrolled it. Maintenance compartments. Primary elevating stones to the Upper District. Inside the walls.
Elara stepped up behind me, reading over my shoulder. Her eyes widened, then hardened into a fierce, predatory glare. "Valerius and Livia," she breathed out, her knuckles turning white around her wooden hilt. "You found them."
"This is a reconnaissance mission," I said quickly, crushing the parchment in my fist. "I am going alone."
"Like hell you are," Elara snapped, tossing her wooden sword aside and marching toward the armory to grab her real steel. "Those two aristocrats treated us like dirt, and now they are playing with blood magic in our city. We are coming with you."
Myra stepped up beside Elara. Her hands were trembling slightly, but her jaw was set in terrifying, unbreakable determination. "We are a unit, Elvit. You said it yourself."
I looked at the two of them. They were angry, reckless, and entirely inexperienced in real combat. But their Ember was burning brightly, and forcing them to stay behind would only fracture the fragile trust we were building. My past-life military instincts screamed at the terrible idea of leading untrained recruits into a hostile environment, but I had no other choice.
"Fine," I grumbled, adjusting my leather armor. "Grab your blades. We move fast, and we move quiet."