Merchant's Game

Arwin awoke with a groan, his body heavy and his head foggy. He was bound to a creaky wooden chair in a damp and shadowy room, with only a rusted iron door separating him from muffled voices beyond. A man lingered in the shadows beside the door brown-papered with an absence of light and fixated upon him.

The man advanced out of the dark. "You were asking around for things that aren't meant for strangers. Skyshard blades. What are you doing in Carrowhelm?" He was calm but menacing.

Arwin didn't say anything, because his head was still aching from the previous spell—a grey flash that had dropped him in the alley. He focused on breathing steady, and blinked rapidly, struggling to comprehend his position.

The man advanced again. "If you tell me now, I think she might not be too harsh. But if my master gets involved--" he paused, "she enjoys... extolling her conversations."

Before Arwin could reply, the door creaked open.

A woman strode into the room, instantly dominating the space. She was tall and regal, in flowing robes that detracted from their purpose—her attire was a tool of seduction, rather than honor. Her red nails gleamed like blood when she leaned down to grasp Arwin's chin in her palm.

"I'm Linlin," she said, still smiling, and her grip changed as she dug her nails into his skin. "A merchant, from the capital. Have you heard of me?"

Arwin slowly shook his head. "No."

The smile faded slightly off her lips. "That's too bad. I've heard of you. Better yet, I've heard of the man who employed you. A merchant of intrigue... from Echlion - how strange. What could a man from there want with weapons being sold in Carrowhelm?"

Arwin did not reply, but stared.

"Tsk. The silent type," she said privately. "But you will talk. Eventually."

She stood and nodded to the man who stepped aside for a mountain of a man to enter; he could easily be seen cracking his knuckles, as he slowly pulled on leather gloves.

"I'll see you in the morning dear," Linlin whispered in Arwin's ear before exiting the room.

___

Back at Carrowhelm, by sunrise Luenor received word. Arwin was gone. Hunter had canvassed the inn and rooftop for signs of him. No return, message, or just gone.

"He's been picked up." Luenor muttered as he paced in the warehouse. "If it's Linlin, gods be good to him."

"Should we summon the troops?" Dion asked as rubbed his forehead.

"No." Luenor snapped, "we're going in quietly to deal with the local rot first."

Luenor issued orders quickly, Dion was to find a member's of the Fangbangs he had came across earlier. He would take the member alive, interrogate them, shake the leadership.

Hunter was to find mercenaries from the local guild. "We need temporary protection," Luenor asserted. "Until we find out how deep the rot goes."

Later that day, Luenor donned his alter- ego, Alfrenzo, and went back to the tavern where they finally scouted. Its warmth clashed against the coldness of the air outside. He nodded to the bartender and glanced around at the drunk man beside him, slumped beside the bar.

He moved over to the group of merchants drinking in the corner; they stared at him as he moved in.

"I'd like to do business." he bluntly told them.

One scoffed, then said, "Then go visit the merchant guild, stranger. They love forms."

Luenor chuckled, "I deal in mana stones. Not exactly a 'form-friendly' business."

That got their interest.

Another one leaned forward, "And who are you?"

"Alfrenzo," he said. "I'm just a humble merchant trying to find the right people."

The first man narrowed his eyes, "Mana stones, huh? How much do you get?"

"I give good rates. But I need buyers. If any of you deal in weapons, especially skyshard blades, we can have a conversation. I can move a lot of bulk. Quietly."

That was enough, the rest was greed.

"I might know someone," the man said, "but I want commission."

Alfrenzo smiled at him and took a seat with them.

___

In the meantime, Dion was roaming around the back alleys, looking for anyone associated with the Fangbangs. He waited in the shadows until he spotted a familiar person.

"Tio!" he called.

The boy froze, poised to run, but relaxed when he recognized Dion. "You shouldn't be out here," Tio mumbled. "They're hunting you."

"Good," Dion said. "I'm looking for one of them. Can you help me?"

After a long pause, Tio slowly nodded. "Come on."

That night, Luenor was alone, reviewing lead after lead. Arwin was in the hands of a grand mage. Merchants were eager to talk. The Fangbangs were shaken. But the skyshard blades—no leads on those.

He lit a candle and stared at the flickering flame. "I will get you out, Arwin," he muttered. "And I will find out who the fuck Linlin really is."