A blade danced between his fingers as Stalt listened idly to tales woven like tapestries. Gold, silver, linen, arcane powers, mystic sigils, and all manner of oddities littered the words that cascaded from the man's maw; but words were wind. His gilded gaze rippled with telltale boredom as he bit back a yawn. "You're not impressing me, Valgo," he drawled.

"Yes of course," the man stammered. His feeble attempt to hop from the back foot was cut short when Tobias stepped forward and seized Valgo's collar. "I promise, I was just about to get to the point."

Tobias ran the tip of his blade across the swindler's throat softly. "Aye, you're right about that," he crooned. "Now, where were we...?"

"The Sultan's treasure," Valgo wheezed. Spittle rained across Tobias' face, but his expression remained neutral. "I heard a rumor about a vault beneath the city."

"A wives tale," Tobias pressed the blade tighter, and crimson welled up beneath it. "What Dehlosian hasn't heard it?"

"It was found, Stalt," the man spoke more quickly, "a jeweled door, marble inlay- like nothing in your wildest dreams, I swear it on my life."

"Your life?" Tobias asked. His tone dipped into morbid amusement.

The merchant wavered, sweat beaded on his brow. He looked round for someone, anyone to notice. Every eye was blind. When he heard the melancholic moans of violin strings, his heart skipped a beat. Tobias let his blade sink a bit.

"You're lucky I'm feeling reminiscent," the Wandering swordsman whispered. His hot breath against the man's neck sent a shiver down Valgo's spine. "I'm not much in a mood for killing. Give me back my gold and you can go."

"I swear to you, Stalt," the man protested.

Tobias twisted the man around so they were eye to eye. "I will follow the rumor," he said, "and if I find nothing, I will come for you. If you leave Dehlos, I will hunt you for sport. Are you so certain a fistful of coin is worth your life, peddler?"

"My word is my bond," the merchant rasped.

Tobias withdrew his blade. "A merchant's word is worth a sack of shit," he spat. "We both know that. But to him, his life is more precious than gold. If you're so willing to stake your life against it, I can't help but be interested."

"Would you be willing to go 50/50 on any treasure?" Valgo asked, hopeful.

Tobias said nothing as he turned and moved toward the fiddler. When he got close enough, he tossed a coin into the case near her feet and smiled toward her. "Your music is foreign," he said to her in the common tongue of Althanas. "Tell me, Traveler. Do you know any songs of the Spellsingers? A Raiaeran Nocturne would cut deep into my heart, and I could use a sad song tonight."