Chapter 44 Friends and Enemies

### Chapter 44: Friends and Foes

The herbalist guild in Salevo was a bustling establishment filled with rows of exotic plants, dried herbs, and shelves lined with potions of varying colors. Trill walked through its aisles, his sharp eyes scanning for rare ingredients. He moved with a quiet confidence, a man focused on his task but always aware of his surroundings.

His fingers grazed over a cluster of nightshade berries, noting their potency by the faint sheen on their surface. Satisfied, he reached for a jar of crushed valerian root when a young man next to him spoke.

"Careful with that one. If you mix it with blueroot powder, it'll knock someone unconscious faster than a wyvern's tail swipe."

Trill turned his head to see a sharply dressed nobleman, perhaps in his early twenties, with chestnut hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. He wore a tailored coat adorned with subtle embroidery, but his eyes betrayed a mischievous spark.

"I'll keep that in mind," Trill replied evenly, studying the man.

The noble extended a hand. "Vas A. Belich. You look like someone who knows their way around dangerous plants. A fellow enthusiast, perhaps?"

"Trill," he said, shaking the offered hand. He didn't elaborate further.

Vas smirked. "Not one for small talk? That's fine. Let me guess—alchemy, fieldwork, and a penchant for keeping to yourself?"

Trill's lips twitched in the faintest hint of amusement. "Something like that."

Before the conversation could progress, the entrance door slammed open, and a group of men strode in, their presence radiating arrogance. At their center was Lord Renard, the noble who had already caused trouble for Trill.

Renard's gaze swept the room, narrowing when it landed on Vas. "Belich," he sneered. "What a surprise to see you here, consorting with commoners."

Vas's expression didn't falter, though his voice turned cold. "Renard. Still trying to make your presence known where it's least wanted, I see."

The tension between the two was palpable, drawing the attention of everyone in the guild. Renard's lackeys stood at his sides, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

"I don't need your commentary, Belich," Renard snapped. "And I certainly don't need to justify my business to the likes of you."

"Business?" Vas replied, raising an eyebrow. "You mean shaking down merchants and buying influence? Or do you mean your family's more unsavory dealings?"

Renard's face twisted in anger. "Careful, Vas. You don't want to make an enemy of me."

Trill, still standing nearby, remained silent but listened closely. Renard's temper flared, and people often revealed more than they intended in such moments.

"Let me guess," Vas said, leaning casually against the counter. "Still working with that slave merchant—what's his name? Kalroth? The one your father's so fond of? Or have you moved on to working directly with Malgrin's dogs?"

Renard's expression darkened, his fists clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Vas tilted his head. "Don't I? Your family's reputation precedes you, Renard. You might want to choose your words carefully."

Trill's sharp mind pieced the puzzle together as the argument unfolded. Renard's father had connections to Kalroth, a known slaver with ties to Malgrin's network. This revelation confirmed a suspicion that had been gnawing at him since his earlier encounter with Renard's men.

Renard stepped forward, his voice lowering to a threatening growl. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Belich. Your family's influence won't protect you forever."

Vas stood his ground, his expression calm but defiant. "I'd worry about your own position, Renard. Malgrin's associates have a way of discarding pawns when they're no longer useful."

Renard's face turned red, and his lackeys moved to flank him. The tension in the room reached its breaking point, but before anyone could draw a blade, Trill stepped between them.

"That's enough," Trill said, his voice steady but commanding.

Both men turned to him, surprised by his intervention.

"This isn't the place for your feud," Trill continued, his gaze shifting between Renard and Vas. "If you want to fight, take it outside. But if you're smart, you'll both walk away."

Renard glared at Trill, his anger redirected. "Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?"

"Someone who doesn't have time for your games," Trill replied coolly.

For a moment, it seemed as though Renard might lash out, but he ultimately scoffed and turned to leave, his lackeys following him. "This isn't over," Renard muttered as he stormed out of the guild.

The room relaxed once Renard was gone, and Vas let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Bold move," Vas said, turning to Trill. "You have a knack for handling hotheads."

Trill shrugged. "I've dealt with worse."

Vas chuckled. "I believe it. Renard's a pest, but he's dangerous when cornered. You should watch your back."

"I always do," Trill replied.

---

As Trill exited the herbalist guild with his supplies, Vas fell into step beside him.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Vas asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

"No," Trill said simply.

"Thought so. You've got the air of someone who doesn't belong—but in a good way." Vas hesitated before continuing. "Look, I appreciate you stepping in back there. Renard's been a thorn in my side for years, but today, he seemed more agitated than usual. Makes me wonder what he's hiding."

Trill glanced at Vas, considering how much to share. "He mentioned Kalroth. That name mean anything to you?"

Vas's expression darkened. "Unfortunately, yes. Kalroth's one of the most notorious slavers in the region. He's ruthless, and his network runs deep. If Renard's family is working with him, that's bad news for everyone."

Trill nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "And Malgrin?"

Vas frowned. "That's a name I've heard whispered in dark corners, but I don't know much about him. He's powerful, dangerous, and connected to people you don't want to cross."

Trill filed the information away, his mind already working on how to use it.

---

Later that evening, Trill returned to the inn, his thoughts heavy. The encounter with Renard had provided valuable insights, but it also raised new questions. If Renard's family was tied to Kalroth and, by extension, Malgrin, it meant their reach extended further than he'd anticipated.

As he entered his room, Trill found Bren and Lyra waiting for him.

"How was the guild?" Bren asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"Eventful," Trill replied, setting down his bag of supplies.

He recounted the events at the herbalist guild, including the confrontation with Renard and the information Vas had provided.

"Kalroth," Lyra said, her voice thoughtful. "That name's familiar. I've heard stories about his operations. If he's involved with Malgrin, it explains a lot."

"And complicates things," Bren added. "We're already walking a fine line. If Renard decides to target us, we'll have more than Malgrin's men to worry about."

Trill nodded. "We need to be careful. But this connection might be the key to uncovering Malgrin's plans—and finding the Sherpa."

For a moment, the room was silent as the weight of their mission settled over them. Despite the danger, Trill felt a sense of determination. Every piece of the puzzle brought them closer to their goal, and he wasn't about to back down.

"Tomorrow, we regroup and plan our next move," Trill said. "For now, we rest."

As the others nodded and began preparing for the night, Trill allowed himself a brief moment of reflection. Friends and foes alike were emerging in Salevo, and the line between them was becoming increasingly blurred.