Chapter 12: A Quiet Room, A Dangerous Bargain

Garrick Ironbrand was a slab of a man with a voice like gravel and a glare that made grown men apologize for breathing too loud. He leaned against a reinforced table in the center of the room, arms crossed, eyes like slits.

Kaela Voss stood nearby, posture easy but alert. Her hair was tied back, and her combat harness was half-unstrapped. She nodded at Lucian. Tavian Vale-Rhys leaned against the far wall, a flask in one hand and a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. Lucian's blindfolded gaze passed over him once but lingered on Kaela. Joran stepped forward, hands behind his back, voice calm.

"We'll get straight to it." Kaela tapped a spot on the table. "Your wilderness survival record isn't just good. It's absurd. You've survived things even trained squads don't return from." Lucian said nothing. Tavian raised a brow.

"Kaela tells me you killed two ashfangs alone with only a rod, a bag of bones, and what looked like someone's discarded spine."

Lucian shrugged. "They tripped." Kaela chuckled. Garrick stepped forward. "We need someone who knows these paths. We've got a mission north through Ghost-Bane, and most of these pups would lose a toe in the first mile."

"And?" Lucian asked.

"We want you to guide us," Kaela said. "Not as a merc. Not as a servant. As a partner. You get a say. You call out hazards. You keep us breathing."

Lucian raised a brow. "And what do I get?"

Joran's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Resources. Access to our network. Training, if you want it. And a cut of the profits from whatever we find out there."

Lucian stood still. It was a good offer. Too good. He looked toward Kaela. "Why me?"

She didn't flinch. "Because no one else would last five days out there. And because I don't want to bury more friends." Lucian tilted his head. The blindfold pressed against his brow, warm with sweat. He was already forming his answer. It didn't take long for him to reply.

He nodded once. "Then let's talk terms."

The Ironbrand headquarters smelled of oil, smoke, and gunmetal. In a room tucked into the quieter corner of the base, far from the loud drinking and dice games, Lucian sat with his back straight, the heels of his boots planted flat on the wooden floor.

The space was dim but not dark, lit by a single glowlamp bolted into the wall behind him. The furniture was utilitarian. A dented steel table. Four chairs. Scratched surfaces. Stale air.

Across from him sat Joran Vale-Rhys, hands folded neatly on the table, eyes locked on Lucian's face. He hadn't removed his gauntlets.

Tavian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still dressed in his expedition cloak, boots freshly cleaned but caked faintly with road dust. Kaela stood behind Joran, expression unreadable. Her rifle was slung across her back. Her stance was casual but her eyes missed nothing.

Lucian said nothing for a while. He didn't need to fill the silence. He had learned the value of waiting. The value of making people wonder what you were thinking.

Joran's gaze was sharp, unmoving. "You're useful. No doubt. But usefulness isn't a contract."

Lucian's tone didn't change. "Then let's make one."

Kaela shifted slightly behind Joran, but not in protest. If anything, she seemed... curious.

Joran said nothing for a moment. Then: "You want protection."

"Yes," Lucian said. "Protection from your crew. From your enemies. From... stray consequences."

"You think you can buy that with wilderness tricks?"

"I think I'm the only reason you haven't lost more men already," Lucian replied evenly. "And I think you know this terrain will get worse. Not better."

Joran didn't deny it.

Lucian continued. "In exchange, I stay with the expedition. I help you navigate. I tell you what to avoid. Who might be watching. What's coming. You make sure no one stabs me in the back. That's the deal."

Kaela's voice broke in, dry and measured. "That's a lot of trust for a boy who sleeps with a blindfold."

Lucian tilted his head. "I don't need eyes to know a deal that's weighted."

"And what if you betray us?" Joran asked.

Lucian shrugged. "Then you lose one boy and keep the rest alive. Doesn't seem like a bad trade."

Joran's mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. "You're confident."

"I'm alive," Lucian replied. "In Yellow-Vale, that's close enough."

A short silence followed.

Kaela stepped forward slightly. "What's your endgame, Lucian?"

"Right now?" he replied. "Getting out of this town without being left in a ditch."

"And after that?"

Lucian didn't answer immediately. His fingers tapped once on the table. Then twice. "Information. Power. I've heard stories about people with the power to flip mountains and move in the skies uninhibited. I want to be able to cultivate."

Joran finally leaned back slightly. "Alright. Here's what I'll offer."

He raised two fingers.

"One. You walk with us, advise us, and help keep our team alive. No sabotage, no hidden loyalties, no running off with supplies."

Lucian nodded.

"Two. You'll receive formal sponsorship. A signed writ from House Vale-Rhys when this is over. That'll get you an audience at Radiant Peak. Assuming you live long enough. You must have heard about Radiant Peak. All these things you want can be found there. I'll even throw in something a little bit extra, I'll give you a new blade if we make it to the Ghost-Bane mountains itself. Of course that's on the premise that you show that you're worth it."

Lucian felt a chill ripple under his skin. Not fear but anticipation. 'Radiant peak. Was it really that place...' He kept his voice level. "And in exchange?"

"You follow my orders during operations," Joran said. "You don't talk to my enemies. And if I say move, you move. No debate."

Kaela interjected with a faint smile. "If you want more than a ditch, consider that a step up."

Lucian smirked faintly. "Fine. But if one of your dogs turns on me, I won't just bark back."

Joran extended a gloved hand across the table.

Lucian took it.

The grip was firm. Not overly tight. Just enough to say we understand each other now.

As they released hands, Tavian uncrossed his arms. "Well. That was more civil than I expected."

Kaela nodded once. "Let's see if it holds."

Lucian stood, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag. He turned toward the door but stopped when Joran spoke again.

"By the way. That blindfold."

Lucian paused.

"I thought it was some trick. Some sympathy play." Joran's eyes narrowed. "But you hear better than my scouts. You sense movement like a damned hound. I don't care how you do it but keep doing it. We'll be needing it out there."

Lucian nodded once, then walked out of the room.

And for the first time since arriving in Yellow-Vale, the weight on his back didn't feel quite as heavy.

What made Lucian's offer even more surprising was that the Ironbrands had never willingly dared tread that deep into the Ghost-Bane Mountains.

For all their bravado and bluster, the Ironbrands were known as street-toughs, extortionists, and "mercenaries" only when it paid well. They collected protection fees from Yellow-Vale's merchants. They showed up to tavern brawls like it was a parade. But ask them to scout the forest past the western ridges, and they'd laugh it off or change the topic.

The Ghost-Bane Mountains had a reputation that predated the Ironbrands themselves. For two generations, the stories were the same: search parties vanished, scavengers returned broken, if they returned at all. Maps marked the edges, but never the heart. The locals whispered of cursed storms and "echoes that didn't belong."

It wasn't fear that kept the Ironbrands away. It was wisdom masquerading as arrogance. They never said it aloud, but even the toughest of them knew that monsters and mercenaries didn't play by the same rules. One was paid in coin. The other in blood.

That the Vale-Rhys delegation had hired them to lead this expedition deep into the territory none of them had dared to enter previously which made the deal more than just dangerous.

It made it cursed. There was a trail of lost lives that served as evidence.

And Lucian, blindfolded and unblinking, had just positioned himself at the very center of it.