16 Nightly Dealings

Another letter flipped open. A butler dressed in a light blue dress lifted a pair of reading glasses and read through the letter.

A quill scribbled away at a sheet of paper on a nearby desk. Its scratchy swirls drowning out the quiet rattles of the letter.

A signature ended with a hurried flourish. Another paper slammed into the ever-growing stack on the dark wood desk. Another sheet picked up from the even larger stack beside it and fixed on the wooden writing surface.

"... Count Heras invites you to a hunt, my lord." The servant's voice droned.

Gaff Beorni felt the butler's gaze on him.

He gave it no mind and picked up his quill. "That bastard can rot in hell."

A moment of silence, followed by the quill hitting the paper.

"Do... Do I reject his proposal then, my lord?" The tentative monotonous voice called out questioningly.

The quill slammed on the desk. Gaff looked up, or well, glared upwards at the butler.

"Tell me something, is 'merchant' a rank in the nobility?" He asked with an eerily calm voice, contrary to his glare and clenched fist.

"No my lord." The butler replied, the mechanical voice breaching just a hint of fear.

"What about a 'Count' then? Is a Count a member of the nobility?" The clenched fist opened up and a hand lightly slammed the table.

"Yes, my lord." The butler tried his best not to look away from Gaff's face.

"And what, pray tell, does someone not from the nobility do when a noble beckons them?"

The butler remained silent.

"You go and you grovel your nose on his shiny boots and hope you don't lose your head," Gaff answered himself. His face had softened up considerably by then, much to the butler's confusion.

"Yes, my lord. I will send a letter of acceptance to Count Heras." The butler bowed.

Gaff leaned back into his armchair and nodded in approval. "You've done well, staying composed through all of that. When's the hunt?"

The butler bobbed his head. "Thank you, my lord. The hunt is on the 6th of this week."

Gaff picked up his quill again and looked at the paper in front of him.

The butler moved to grab another letter.

As Gaff read the request on the table, he noticed something strange.

'... Supplies for a tavern...? Required by 8 tonight...?' He drew a line under the words. There was no mention at all of what these supplies were to be. Not to mention that Gaff's company dealt with precious minerals for magic purposes and not supplies you would consider a tavern would require, anyway.

"... Duke Chavion asks for more financial advice, my lord." The butler summarised the next letter.

"Again? I should've chosen a better noble to back..." Gaff gritted his teeth. His eyes didn't leave the paper in front of him. "Starting to wonder if he'd ever be worth the investment..."

There. A faint watermark. An 'S' stuck through the middle horizontally. Lyk's symbol.

'Ah,' his mind clicked. 'He must have found something.'

"Call Chavion for a meeting tomorrow then." Gaff looked up at the butler.

"Tea time," He added. That was their code for 'It's urgent.'

"And get me a carriage to this tavern tonight." He slid the request over to the butler, his finger tapping the address. "The owner has some explaining to do."

===

Gaff was escorted to the second floor of the tavern by the owner.

"Second to last door on your left. He's waiting there.", The tavernkeep stopped and whispered.

Gaff nodded, a displeased frown on his face. It was quite the shoddy tavern. Just the kind you would expect lowlifes and thugs to hunker down in. Gaff had to bring his guard here—though that was mostly to scare away the crowd than to protect himself. Lyk only steals when hired to do so. Gaff was safer with Lyk's men than he'd ever be with the Royal Guards.

He still had to put up a show, though, to give the owner an excuse to call for a private meeting with Gaff. It cost the tavern half of its patrons, but he couldn't care less.

Besides, fewer people around meant fewer potential witnesses.

Gaff continued down the corridor as the tavernkeep hung back. He quickly found the room and entered it.

Inside, under the sole light of the bright moon through the window, he saw lodgings he would consider regular, albeit shoddy. A single small bed with a filthy excuse of a mattress. A table opposite it. And barely enough room to walk between them.

And he saw a silhouette of a man stand up from the edge of the bed. Too dimly lit for Gaff to see any of his features.

"Nice to see you again, Gaff." The silhouette walked towards him.

Gaff recognised that voice. It was one he could never forget. Raspy to the point of sounding painful.

"Lyk Sylfter! In the flesh! How awfully brave of you!" Gaff grinned.

Lyk walked into the light. Young, perhaps half his age, with grey hair and a lanky build. A nasty burn covered the right side of his neck and even peeked through the sleeve of his covered right arm. It was hard to believe that such a figure could ever have become the most feared thief in the entirety of Miratea.

"Oh?" Lyk replied, an amused smile on his face. "Why would you say that?"

"Coming here yourself! What would you have done if I had called the Royal Guard here?" Gaff chuckled, extending a hand out to Lyk.

Lyk let out a gravelly laugh. He grasped Gaff's hand and shook it.

But he did not let go of it.

"It's funny. You think I should be afraid of them," Lyk said.

Gaff noticed a new source of light illuminating the room. He looked down to see three rings on Lyk's hand glow faintly.

His vision went white before he could even move a finger in protest.

It took a few moments for his sight to return, but when it did, Gaff found himself in an entirely different room. Much larger, completely empty, made of stone and with no discernible exit.

"Why, they'd never catch me!" Lyk declared with another raspy laugh and let go of Gaff's hand.

Gaff looked visibly shaken. He walked, slowly, to the wall and felt it. It felt just what it looked like.

"What... did you do?" He asked with a hint of fear in his voice.

"Teleportation. It's rather convenient, no?"

"That's not possible—You're... Magic doesn't work on people, let alone teleportation!" Gaff looked at Lyk. The prospect of teleportation had widened his eyes.

Lyk shook his head. "But it worked."

"Can I know h—"

"That's not why we're here, Gaff." Lyk interrupted. "Let's get this over with quickly."

Gaff blinked and nodded. He knew better than to pry into Lyk's secrets any further. He stayed silent and let Lyk begin.

"I believe Krys may have succeeded," Lyk said.

"... He stabilised that dagger?" Gaff asked, wide-eyed.

Was Lyk telling the truth? That dagger was the most powerful tool he had ever seen. If Gaff could get his hands on it and figure out how it worked, he could make sure Chavion got the crown.

"To... some degree at least. My people—Well, my eyes—noticed him using it in the tower. He claimed it was stronger than anything he had seen before, and he was sure it hadn't been enchanted in at least three hours before that."

That was amazing news. The dagger did not even work for half an hour during that meeting with Queen Sobha.

"Will you be making a move soon, then?" Gaff looked at Lyk expectantly.

"Maybe."