The Prince of Counterpoise

[Call me J]

(Closed to Rayse Valentino)

“So you want me to take care of a few people who are selling metal?” Jame asked. He was somewhat surprised that a Graf would be this interested in something that seemed as minor as a little black market.

The Graf was nonplussed by Jame’s flippant attitude. “There is a principle at work here,” he insisted. “This is Alerar, and the metals under the soil belong to the dark elves who built it. You either need to help us reinforce it, or find your way to somewhere else.” The Graf got up from his seat in his desk and made his way over to his wall. He pointed to a picture that Jame hadn’t noticed earlier, but it was a picture of the dark elven noble standing over a pile of dwarven corpses. The smiles on the face of both the dark elf himself and the picture were sickening.

The sudden hostility surprised Jame. Instead, he just stood motionless across from the Graf’s desk, studying the man issuing the order. “Well I know for sure that he’s a racist,” Jame thought. “One look at his walls would tell me that. I wonder if he’s just compensating for his big nose. If I were a girl, I’d have turned him down even for a dwarf.”

“You’re bitter, aren’t you?” Jame asked.

Hearing that, the Graf acted rashly. Before Jame even realized what had happened, there was a serrated blade close to his jugular vein, held by a suddenly angered dark elf. Jame looked into the Graf’s eyes, and cringed at the bloodshot madness that he found within them.

“Just because of who your father is, doesn’t mean I can’t kill you in five seconds,” the Graf said. The blade was removed from Jame’s neck, but the point, had ostensibly been made. “Now, this isn’t up for debate, a Graf is asking you to do something, so you do it. Seemingly as you think it’s necessary, let me tell you, the High Graf Schynius explicitly asked for you for this mission…”

Jame frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. The last time he had done something for Schynius, it had been covert, and if not for a fortunate twist of fate, he would have been killed for following orders. Still, he knew that he didn’t have a choice, and if his directive had come from the big nosed Graf instead of Schynius, the mission was most likely legal.

Still, the half dragon didn’t care much for what he was being asked to do. There seemed to be a great deal of risk, and the reward seemed minimal. He was supposed to meet a man within the next fifteen minutes that he had never seen or heard of before and then trust him implicitly for the rest of the job. A scowl slipped over his face.

“This other guy better be good…” Jame said. “You’ll have a hard time getting that blade close to me now that I’m expecting it.”

“I have other tricks,” the Graf replied coldly. “Don’t get too big for your britches.”

[Rayse Valentino]

It had been a good three weeks since Rayse left Knife's Edge. Three weeks since him and Teric founded The Company, based in Corone. While a permanent location had not yet been secured, Rayse was surprised when Teric had his own little network of contacts that he used to get some money going into the coffers. The old man was changing, and not just the increase in charisma and vitality. He was training harder than ever, and frequently entertaining challenges in The Dajas Pagoda. In one of his training sessions, he could've sworn that he saw his uncle Teric smash his shoulder into a solid rock wall, and causing only the wall to crack. Rayse felt like he had actually managed to revive the battling spirit within the old man.

Rayse was also trying to better himself, but through opportunities rather than training. This was one of those opportunities. A dark elf he met in Knife's Edge- a trader from Ettermire- kept in contact with The Contractor over the past two years. He was a very business-oriented elf, often sticking straight to the point in his letters and trusting Rayse to handle shipment of goods over on the Salvar end. This was after the elf went back to Alerar, however, and a couple months before the war, the letters and subsequent shipments stopped. While Rayse did not think much of it at first, it was apparent now that Alerar knew about what was going on long before anyone else did. When Rayse settled down in Corone he sent out letters to all his former contacts not in Knife's Edge with The Company's business card, hoping for some replies, and one week ago the dark elf surprisingly wrote back. Rayse received a letter that was brought to him by what looked like a very expensive (and fast) messenger bird.

To Rayse Valentino,
How have you fared this terrible storm? I am pleased to see that you got out of the city before it was too late. I'm sorry to have not replied to any of your letters before, but I was having trouble getting anything done, and my cross-country business was put on hold. If it's any consolation to you and our friendship, I'd like to present you with a unique opportunity: I have word that a new black market is starting up in Kachuck soon, but Alerar is a lot tighter with their authority, especially after the mess in your hometown. Essentially, they need an outsider who can talk his way out of a hanging, with some genuine business intentions. It has to be legit, and judging by the card you sent me you've been in operation just long enough to pass this off. I know you don't like the idea of any sort of government hiring you, but the pay and exposure is too good to pass up, even for you. Enclosed are destinations and instructions for meeting the employer in Kachuck. I shall stay behind in Ettermire and won't see you, so good luck.
your friend, Llewyn Galielin.

Rayse almost crumpled the letter up as he squeezed it, "Who does this cocky sonofabitch think he is?! If he thinks I'm about to haul my ass to some mountain for a government job, he's out of his mind."

* * * *

Rayse couldn't believe how red the mountains were in Kachuck. They were certainly a far cry from the snowy tops of Salvar. While he had gotten used to the warmth of Corone, he still found a familiar feeling in the cool winds of the mountains. The directions were very specific to this dwarf town, and one wrong turn could have him lost forever among all these rocks. Regardless, he finally made it to the town, and it was bustling as ever. Rather than one concrete location, Kachuck seemed like clusters of buildings separated by passes in-between them. The one on the outskirt of the mountains seemed like the biggest one, and that's where he was. Deciding not to waste any time to admire the scenery, he adjusted his traveling bag and made his way to where he was expected. Honestly, he had no idea what that damn elf had told them about him, for all he knew this could be another trap. Although, his gut reminded him that Llewyn would sooner cut off his own tongue than betray anyone. The thought wasn't wholly reassuring, however.

The distinct difference in racial preference was evidence in a certain part of town. Rayse almost felt like there was an imaginary line separated dwarves from elves. That, and it was filled with military types and even the buildings looked like something out of Ettermire itself. This must be the place. He started walking toward the biggest one when one of the guards noticed and stopped him.

"What are you doing here?" he said in Aleran, a language Rayse was not very apt in.

"Business," Rayse responded in his best Aleran, pulling out one of the documents Llweyn sent him and pointing at the emblem on it.

The guard was warned of Rayse's arrival, and saw fit to let him pass. After all, he fit the description given to him. Inside, the place looked a lot fancier than it did from the outside. Various paintings of famous elves were on the walls. He already regretted walking into this place, but he kept reminding himself that an empire was only as large as its farthest eyes and ears. He needed some business in Alerar, since Raiaera and Salvar were out of the question right now and most of the other places were way too small or too far. He was escorted to a door and led inside, where he saw the ugliest dark elf and what looked like the only other human in this place.

When he told Teric about this job, the old man gave a very cryptic warning, "Don't run your mouth around those elves. They're on a different league."

Rayse always lost the arm-wrestling contests with Llewyn, and the elf was a trader. He figured that being himself right now wouldn't be a good thing.

"I have come about the job, Your Excellency," he said in Common, standing upright with a serious look on his face. He wanted to make a good first impression, after all. Of course, if Llewyn said anything incriminating about the way Rayse acts, The Graf would already know this was a ruse.

[Call me J]

Jame took a long hard look at the man who had just entered the room. The Graf did so as well, but he seemed to be less concerned about the specifics. There were a few questions that Jame wanted answered. In general, he made it a point of not trusting mercenaries. In his estimation, people who took on dangerous work for pay often lacked even the basics of human decency. Godhand Striker was an exception, but the half dragon had no expectations that he was meeting another such person right here.

“At least he’s human though,” Jame figured. He found that the few humans in Alerar tended to be a lot more reasonable than either the native drow or dwarves.

“Welcome,” the Graf intoned. “Rayse Valentino, I presume. Have a seat, I was just discussing the details with the man who is going to be your partner.” He sat back down behind his desk and folded one leg over the other, a motion Jame interpreted as that his little streak of violent displays was now over. “Jame Kaosi, this is Rayse Valentino, and Rayse Valentino, this is Jame Kaosi,” he Graf. “The two of you will have all the time to get to know each other, but let me assure you Malla Valentino, the young Kaosi is someone that you should take as speaking with the authority of the King himself on this mission.”

Jame was a bit surprised by that. He didn’t expect to be given that much authority, and truly doubted whether or not he deserved it. The first he had heard of the entire situation was fifteen minutes ago, sitting in the Graf’s office. When he had been summoned to Kachuk, he believed his job was to escort the daughter of a Freiherr back to Ettermire. “A mercenary probably knows more about this black market than I do…” Jame thought. “If he wants me as an expert, then he’s going to be really disappointed soon.”

In order to acknowledge the Graf’s comments, Jame merely nodded towards Rayse Valentino, but that seemed to be all the Graf wanted them to exchange before he continued with his introductions. “And Malla Kaosi, I would like you to know that Rayse Valentino has come to us highly recommended. Despite his age, he was recommended by one of our best military suppliers, none other than my childhood friend, Llewyn Galielin. Together, you will be infiltrating the black market here.”

The mention of Rayse’s credentials only including that he had been recommended by a friend of the Graf made Jame a bit nervous. He knew the old saying about how no one could trust anyone else in Alerar, but if Jame was going to be infiltrating an black market, with someone else, he was going to want to make sure that person was someone he could trust.

“Can I trust him?” Jame asked. “Of all the people, you bring me someone that you’ve never hired before. I still don’t see the point of going after black market dealers with Xem’zund on the other border…”

The Graf pounded his hand upon the desk so hard that the papers on it jumped. “Just shut up about that…” he said. “You’re not the one here that makes the decisions. We want you to do this, both of you, because no one knows you. Not because you’re the best, to clear your minds of that delusion. Your job is to infiltrate a black market in the mine shafts over by Lekhmican’s mine. We want to know who’s behind it and who’s being sold to and why. This is a sensitive time for Alerar, and we’re worried that our weapons are being sold to the Salvarian church, especially by those vermin feeding dwarves who couldn’t give a damn about our common cause.”

Jame nodded. He almost hated that the Graf had a good reason for hiring a new mercenary. It also explained, why he was picked. Though many of the nobles knew him, he was still a relative unknown in the dark elven country with his loyalties considered more questionable than most. It would be easy enough for him to fade in and out as a weapons buyer, and the same would be true for this Rayse Valentino.

“Fair enough,” Jame said grudgingly. “It seems you’ve made your point clear.”

With a nod, the Graf passed a small parcel over to Jame. It was covered in brown paper, but once Jame opened it, he could tell that it contained nothing but papers. “There is a list of anything you might need to know about the mines, and any documents that you might need,” he said. “Also, your only contacts for this mission are myself and the High Graf. You have permission, regardless of rank, to kill anyone else who asks you about this mission.”

When he heard that, Jame’s eyes popped wide open. The responsibility might have seemed great, but he knew exactly what it meant. There was someone among the Alerarian elite who had betrayed the so called ‘common cause’ and was running the black operation. That person hadn’t been identified, but Jame was concerned that the rogue might be so well connected, it would end up serving him better to look the other way. The half dragon didn’t know if he could explain that to a partner.

Regardless, the Graf seemed to have nothing more to say than that to Jame, so the half dragon turned his attention to Rayse Valentino to see if the mercenary had any questions.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse listened like the other two were vets and all they were talking about how sick his dog was and how it had to be put down. While his expression was unchanging, his insides were turning. There was absolutely nothing that either of them said that sounded any good at all. They way they talked about the mission, the various lines of authority, and most notably the lack of other contacts, this didn't sound anything like Rayse thought it would sound. He realized something very ironic, and it felt like there was something down his throat he couldn't swallow. He had been roped into something akin to what he roped Teric into not too long ago. He was half-tempted to start heading for the door, but judging by what the elf said, he was already in too deep.

He already pieced together what could've happened: There was Llewyn, minding his own business, when his childhood friend who happened to be a Graf asked him for a favor. At around this time, Rayse's letter came in, and while Llewyn would usually ignore these letters, this time he saw an opportunity. That damn elf thought he was doing Rayse a favor, he probably had no idea what all this was about.

The only reason he came to this damn place was because he was coming here anyway. A new black market in such a mineral-rich area was perfect for fledgling businesses, and if he was in on whatever actions the government was taking against the trade, he could theoretically play both sides of the field. He never imagined that the very rulers of Alerar would be players in this, since the implication was that someone very high up was a potential traitor. The Graf didn't really state that possibility, but his rules were very supportive of that notion, which made refusal all the more impossible now. Even if he escaped, he wouldn't get very far.

However, he tried to make the best of this situation, even though The Graf had just shoved papers into his face. Papers! The last time he had these.. shoved... Oh, this was too much! Although, The Graf's insistence of ignoring the situation in Raiaera was interesting. There was something else Rayse wanted to know. He figured if he had to go through with this, he would accomplish as many goals as he could. There was something he could think of that would make this worth it. He felt like after hearing all that, he had some sort of bargaining chip.

"I don't know what your childhood friend told you," Rayse began, pausing to consider his words. "But this is the first time I'm hearing about the confidentiality of this. I have an additional request besides money. It's not much; All I ask is to have an audience with your most renowned and knowledgeable historians, privately. Let's just say I have a great fascination with your nation's ancient history." He wanted to point out how he wasn't a slave, or his utter dissatisfaction with the whole ordeal, but at this point all he could do was gently tilt the table toward his direction.

Rayse thought that this request would sound so trivial to The Graf that it would be accepted immediately with the intent of shooing Jame and Rayse away already.

He pointed at Jame with his thumb and kept his head aimed at The Graf while he was looking at the half-dragon out of the corner of his eyes, "That aside, I have a complaint about this guy. How do I know he won't bust my cover? Unfamiliar or not, if there's anything I know about racketeers is they can smell anyone working for the government. How do I know he won't stink up my scene?"

The question was irrelevant. It really only had two purposes: One was to elicit emotional responses from the other two, as despite the 'authority of the king' line he found Jame uncomfortably shifting in his seat and even trying to advise against this mission. Rayse could tell that the two were at odds, and this sort of clear favoritism should buy some sort of clout in his direction. He also needed to get a feel on Jame for how he felt about this. Rayse could tell that the man was dangerous, but to whom? The other purpose was to assert his authority on matters of the illegal. He could tell that even with a recommendation, he was under intense scrutiny from everyone he was passing by, so he needed to at least give the appearance of professionalism in his craft. He couldn't infiltrate a paper bag with a babysitter trailing behind him, and his genuine interest in the black market dictated that he needed time alone for his own special investigation. Despite what he said, he really didn't know what to expect. If the government couldn't get anyone on the inside to do this job, then it means that whatever official that went corrupt is aware of most of the movements of the government.

Somewhat ignoring what he learned from his big job in Knife's Edge, Rayse could clearly see the possibilities unfolding before his eyes. There were so many angles to this that the only real way to fail would be death, and he knew that his luck wasn't about to run out just yet.

[Call me J]

Jame was a bit surprised by Rayse’s question. Before the half dragon could get over his irritation at the question, the Graf answered for him. “History is hardly an issue,” the Graf interjected. “But to deal with your more serious question, Jame Kaosi is hardly what we’d call government. He’s only been with us a short enough time that while we wouldn’t call his loyalty into question, he doesn’t exactly have the behavior we expect from our government officials. That was why we picked him.”

There was no compliment in the things that the Graf had said, and Jame was beginning to get indignant about it. Subconsciously, one of his fists began to ball up as it yearned to reach over the desk and punch the Graf. However, Jame was left to only reply with equally icy words. “What the Graf means is I haven’t gotten fat behind a desk yet,” Jame said snidely. “I haven’t been spending my time posing for pictures where I have the artists work around my big nose.”

The Graf didn’t look very happy at Jame’s response, but Jame didn’t care. By now, there was very little that the Graf would have been able to do, other than scrap the mission in its entirety. A fight between Jame and the Graf in front of Rayse would not look good for the government of Alerar. Smugly, Jame looked at the Graf, and watched as the long nosed minister’s face wrinkled without having any way of expressing his resentment.

Jame stopped there. He realized whatever animosity he had against the Graf, he was going to have to let it go. His enemy, this time, wasn’t the Alerarian government, but black market dealers. Though he had no real zeal for the mission, it was not because of a sense of solidarity he had developed for illegal traders, it was because his priorities lay in settling the issue between himself and Xem’zund in Raiaera. Now, he was wondering if it wasn’t worth it just to walk away. It would have been difficult, and would have sent the High Graf Schynius into a conniption fit, but Jame would have thought it was worth it just for that reason.

“Now that everything is settled, I’d like to get one thing off the table though,” Jame said. “Before I was interrupted, I wanted to say something to Rayse Valentino. Graf Gravlik, if you want to listen in, I couldn’t possibly care less. Anyways Rayse, you want to know if you can trust me? No guarantees. You’ve got nothing more on me than I have on you. The thing is, we’re not going to trust each other. You don’t want me slowing you down, that it? Let me put it this way, the biggest advantage you have is that no one trusts anyone here in Alerar. They won’t trust me there in the black market, but they really won’t trust you either, regardless of what your credentials are. You want to do this then do it, I’m sure they’re paying you enough, it is a government job after all…”

Before he let Rayse get a word in edgewise, Jame decided that he just wanted to get moving. “And have we had enough of this game?” he asked. “It’s either we get started, or we start exchanging grooming tips at this point.”

[Rayse Valentino]

He started to get a feel for these two, especially the one known as Jame Kaosi. It was devilishly convenient that Jame didn't quite choose to be here. Rayse wondered how strong his loyalty was, or moreover, how accurate his words were. He didn't particularly have anything to gain by plotting to turn Jame against The Graf, and that wasn't his intention at all. On the contrary, if Jame could become a contact, imagine the possibilities! He would be far more useful than that stupid Llewyn. Regardless, at the moment his main concern was this black market, and how to access its ringleaders.

The trust department had been well established by the half-dragon, or rather the lack thereof. This was nothing Rayse hadn't heard before, however. If this black market was anything like Salvar's, then Rayse could possibly access it in the same manner he first accessed the one in Knife's Edge. He couldn't help but feel a bit indignant when they were talking about their advantages as if Rayse was wholly oblivious to how any of this worked. Why had they called him in if they were going to lecture him? He almost sighed with relief when Jame recommended they get out of here, as Rayse's impatient tapping of his foot was almost getting noticeable.

He got up and began making his way towards the door, "I have no intention of holding you up, gentlemen. Let's get to it."

Reaching into his traveling bag midway, he pulled out The Company's business card and threw it on a nearby table.

He turned to The Graf and shrugged, "This place is pretty different from the rest of the town. We're going out the back entrance if at all possible. Nobody saw me come in, but I can't guarantee eyes won't be on us right out the front door."

The Graf seemed to have no problems with this, and after some last-minute confirmations Rayse walked out the door first and it closed behind him. A small flame ran up from his right bicep up to his knuckles, burning fiercely to match the intensity in his eyes and the gritting of his teeth. He had been holding this feeling back while he was in there, and the trigger to the small flame running along his arm seemed to be his anger. He didn't notice the fire at all, and it wasn't burning anything and it was too small to cast any glow, but it disappeared right before Jame caught up, as if to match Rayse's new calm expression. Once they got outside, Rayse looked around briefly to make sure they weren't being watched. After he was fairly certain they weren't, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth.

After snapping his fingers to produce a flame on his thumb and lighting it, he turned to Jame and offered one to him, "Nice parlor trick, eh? Learned it when I was little."

Rayse preferred to keep his little fire abilities as a trick. While he knew of the obvious dangers of such a power, he couldn't deny its usefulness as long as nobody knew about it.

Whether or not Jame accepted the smoke, Rayse asked, "So, where to? If you couldn't tell, I don't know anything about this place so someplace quiet to read those oh-so-important papers would be nice. Or we could check out one of those shady locations. Up to you, boss."

He was really having a blast with that 'authority' line. It just sounded so silly. If anything, he preferred that they'd be at least on equal footing if this was to work out. If he was like that on the last job he pulled with his other partner, he would've ended up in a lot less trouble.

[Call me J]

Jame winced at the sarcastic way that Rayse said the word boss. He wasn’t sure if the mercenary was trying to mock the Graf or him. He had accepted the cigarette, the first one he had ever taken, more because he didn’t want to turn down an offer of goodwill than a genuine desire to smoke. It remained burning between his fingers as he looked at his new companion, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This guy either has the bravery to stare down the dur’taigen or really just doesn’t give a damn,” Jame realized. “Either way, I like it.” He put the cigarette up to his lips and took a light puff on it. The half dragon’s firebreath had conditioned him to smoke, so the cigarette didn’t really feel that much different. Still, he didn’t want to make a habit of them. Jame could already imagine what his lover Rainee would say if she saw him with a cigarette, and the habit certainly wasn’t worth her scorn.

As he exhaled, Jame answered Rayse. “There’s no boss worth having here,” he said. “Whatever was said in there, that’s there, where old big nose is talking. He can talk for hours on end if that’s what he wants, I don’t give a damn. He’s just one of those people who talks sometimes to make himself happy, you know? If there’s a boss, it’s not us, but what we need to do…”

With that said, Jame looked around carefully. There was nothing around them but mountain expanse, a few guards watching the back entrance, but nothing else. It would be safe to open the packet there, at least to get a bit of a look at it. Jame wasn’t so keen on going to a tavern to look through official documents. There was always the chance that someone from the black market would find them there.

“I don’t want to go to a tavern to look at these,” Jame said. “If we’re not careful, then someone who shouldn’t might overhear us.” He looked around. There was a small clump of trees, somewhat of a rarity for Kachuk, not too far away. They weren’t thick enough to muffle sound, but the branches came down to his waist length, so if both he and Rayse held their papers up, they would be able to read undetected. If anyone saw them, it would have been easy enough to come up with a lie for what they were doing. “We’ll head there,” he said, pointing over towards the trees.

The moment he was safe within their cover, Jame opened up the “oh-so important” packet. With the cigarette now hanging from the corner of his mouth, Jame opened up the packate. There were papers in two different colors, some yellow, some blue. Jame figured there was one color for each of them. He pulled out one set, and then handed the rest of the packet to Rayse, only to quickly switch hands. “Yours are the blue…” he apologized. “They say something about posing as a dealer…” He quickly glanced over to the yellow. They listed posing as a rogue noble. Jame smiled. If there was one role he could play with confidence in Alerar, that would be it.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse noticed that Jame wasn't especially fond of the cigarette, but he appreciated the gesture. He felt like they were definitely on the same page. He took a deep breath and exhaled a long plume of smoke, stopping just short to notice that it was a lot more smoke than usual. Jame was already heading towards the greenery and couldn't notice, but Rayse almost covered his mouth from surprise. He simply wanted to exhale a lot of smoke, but it was supposed to be a feeling attributed to the calming nature of the cigarette, not literal. Well, it wasn't that big a deal, maybe it had to do with the fact he was a human furnace. It didn't help matters to be so analytical of everything.

Under the cover of the tree, Rayse examined the documents meant for him. He didn't have any sort of objections to the plan, really. The papers detailed a pretty standard dealer role and had all sorts of references and fake validations of his pretend businesses. His initial idea was to appear as some sort of investor, perhaps get a good word in for The Company, but this worked as well. The only problem was that as a dealer, he really had to get it right the first time or else he's dead. That's probably where Jame comes in, he supposed. Rayse didn't know what role Jame had in all this, exactly. Again, he was probably thinking too much about this. The simpler the plan, the less possibilities it has to backfire or splinter off into countless little problems. He honestly hoped it was as cut-and-dry as The Graf made it out to be.

Aside from his character in this mission, the blue papers numbered a great deal less than Jame's. They didn't really detail this region, list the potential places they were to investigate, or name any important figures. Rayse could guess that Jame's stack was a bit more informative, probably a result of him being assigned leader of this operation. Rather than just ask Jame about this, Rayse decided this was something else that was unnecessary to him. If the only two contacts are the employer and the damn leader of the country, Jame must be some sort of reliable man. It was possible that the half-dragon needed some sort of responsibility to be effective, and Rayse didn't especially care what his papers detailed. The man said something about their lack of trust in each other to be their greatest advantage. Rayse filed away his papers into his traveling bag.

As he exhaled a regular puff of smoke from his cigarette, he noted, "I didn't get a chance to read too much on customs around this place. Which is to say... While we're working together, I don't want to do anything I'll regret. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather we worked as a team rather than entertain the various angles of this. I'll follow whatever plan you got and make it work, that's what I'm here for."

Despite his previous experiences in Salvar, Rayse was now looking for more down to Althanas solutions. He didn't hear any mentioned time limit, so he wanted to take his time and be careful. It's likely that Jame already had an idea of some sort, or at least one of those yellow papers had a plot to follow. Rayse wasn't used to the prospect of not being the one to call the shots, so he was perhaps awkward in his presentation. Nonetheless, he considered it a test for him. For the last three weeks, he has been wondering what purpose he had outside of Salvar. Slacking off and trying to reforge old ties, he has been neglecting any meaningful work. If he could do this for Jame, it was possible that he could be of some use to Teric Bloodrose.

[Call me J]

Naturally apprehensive of anyone who had been hired by the government of Alerar, Jame was pleasantly surprised by the way Rayse was talking to him. He smirked lightly. “This guy’s a sharp one,” Jame thought appreciatively. “Strange how someone like this ends up hired by the Grafs.”

The only problem was that Jame didn’t have much of a plan. For better or worse, he didn’t know if he knew anything more about the situation in Kachuk than Rayse did. He had been to the area before, as a representative for Sine Nomine to help inspire resistance among the dwarves. However, those experiences would be of little help here. He knew the economic system was exploitative, and that the loyalty of the dwarves was rarely with their employers, but he had no idea how any of that information would relate to the situation.

Lacking a plan, Jame began to leaf through the papers looking at headings. There were intelligence profiles of important people that they might meet in Alerar, a few mentions of organizations that the government suspected might be involved. Jame chuckled when he saw Sine Nomine among them. Still, there wasn’t nearly enough information for him to know if any cover beside the one he’d been provided could pass without suspicion in the black market.

With his mouth caught in a thin line, Jame looked over the description of his cover one last time. “They want me playing the dissatisfied noble…” he wondered, trying to think if there were any links. Soon enough, a smile appeared on his face. He had a plan.

For demonstrative effect, he crumpled up the yellow paper describing his cover and tossed it down to the ground. To make sure that no one else haphazardly walking through the area would stumble upon it, he made sure to grind it into the dirt. The ground was wet enough that the ink smeared almost immediately, eliminating any of those concerns. “That’s going to be useless now,” he said. “We’re going with a new plan. You’ll stay the weapons dealer, but you’re going to be working with me, because I’ve paid you. I’m going to tell them that I’m sympathetic to the situation in Raiaera, and the black market is the only way that the resistance there can get the equipment it needs…”

Jame smiled. This was a role he’d be able to play even better, and it streamlined both his and Rayse’s stories well. The international situation was particularly conducive to it as well. The battle between Tel Aglarim and Xem’zund had left Alerar conflicted. The official position of both the High Graf and the King was that regardless of the threat of Xem’zund, there was no reason to support their enemy over the Twilight Mountains. However, Jame was one of many who believed that position was foolishly wrong. Many members of the Alerarian noblility, including even some Grafs, had expressed their sympathies for Raiaera, though not in an official capacity. The idea that a Graf, especially the son of a Raiaeran general, would be among those willing to turn their sympathies into action was hardly difficult to believe.

“I can handle the latter role, and if these people are in the black market here, they’d sell to Raiaera,” Jame said. “You’re in this for profit or principles, whatever you think is better…”

[Rayse Valentino]

It's not like it's too far from the truth. Rayse similarly discarded his papers, already having memorized their limited contents. There were only two pieces of information that served any purpose to them anyhow: The name of the organization Rayse was supposedly representing; the Red Flag Syndicate, and their reputation of being underground arms sellers and importers from Alerar. While he and Jame could make a sensible combination of investors, their partnership was still very suspicious. In short, Rayse would have to treat Jame as an employer if this was to work. That was fine, but now he really didn't want Jame to be around during any sort of initial confrontations with potential suspects. He figured, at the very least, he could stroll around town and see which place they would most likely have agents or workers.

After throwing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out, he said, "Alright, in that case here's what I got: You're the financial power, I'm the logistics. In which case, treat me as you would any dealer who you still haven't paid but wants your money, and I'll handle the rest."

Rayse explained that while cliché, they could probably find the ones they wanted in one of the taverns around town. Once they found someone, they only had one chance to do their thing or else their cover will be blown.

"Now, if you were a dwarf that would like very much to drive a stake through the High Graf's heart, where would you buy a drink?"

* * * * * * * *

Rayse and Jame stood across the road from The Dusty Bronze, the premier tavern of this town. It was a dwarf-oriented establishment that hated all forms of outsiders, which made it a perfect nest for anti-government types.

The Contractor turned to the half-dragon and told him of his plan, "Here's the score. I'm going in and making contact alone, it'll be too suspicious if both of us go in. If I'm not out in five minutes..." Rayse pulled a small shot glass with a wash cloth jammed into it and a small fuse sticking out of the top out of his pocket. "Light and throw this inside."

Rayse made his way to the doors of the establishment. It was a large, wooden structure that was crudely made but well-maintained. Among the buildings of Kachuck, it was a large one towering at three stories and the stench of alcohol could be detected even outside of it. While several stone buildings were around it, this place was clearly an example of the earlier days of Kachuck, since this town was on a lower part of the mountain from where the dwarves usually lived. Rayse put his hands in his pockets and walked inside.

He was greeted by the sound of roaring laughter from a rowdy round table in the center that was surrounded by a group of burly dwarves. The other patrons included a dwarf sitting off by himself in the corner looking mighty sober, another couple dwarves at the bar, and what looked like the shape of a dwarf passed out behind some chairs just out of Rayse's sight. The room had mainly round tables with short, but wide chairs with a long bar at the back with various liquors on shelves behind it. The bar extended most of the way to the other end of the room, but stops short in front of a staircase. The tables had various discolorations to indicate holes that had been repaired, the chairs had broken legs strapped together, and the walls were covered with various boards that had pictures nailed to them to hide them. The modifications were very makeshift, but Rayse couldn't deny that this old place was well-preserved; the bar was spotless and the floors were clean. There was something about dwarves that made them good at preservation. They had a greater appreciation of the rough and gruff that elves and humans lacked. Rayse looked around as if he was lost, at first not getting any incriminating glares. He didn't expect this, and one of his deductions was either they thought he really was lost and about to leave, or he was some government type popping in and they categorically ignore them. Maybe they were too drunk to notice. Either way, he wasn't about to leave as they expected.

He casually walked up to the group of festive dwarves. If there's one thing I know about dwarves, it's that when they get unreasonable, they stay unreasonable all day. And If they get drunk, they have a 90% chance of getting unreasonable. One by one, they put down their drinks and stared at the bold newcomer. The two dwarves by the bar also took notice as did the dwarven barkeep, but the lone dwarf continued quietly sipping his drink.

"Ye want somethin' boy?" their leader spoke up, his hand dangerously close to the axe at his side.

"Why yes," said Rayse, his smile painfully fake. "I was wondering if you could tell me where I could buy a few swords."

"What's this look like, a swordery to ye?!" one of the dwarves at the other end of the table spoke up, lifting up his mug and slamming it back down on the table.

"Wait," said the initial dwarf (apparently the leader) with a smile on his bearded face. "I'll tell 'im. C'mere boy..."

The dwarf motioned for The Contractor to come nearer so he could whisper into his ear. Rayse learned down and turned his head so as to receive this information, and the dwarf leaned real close... And threw his arms around Rayse's neck from behind, shaking him and speaking loudly while laughing, "Find what yer lookin' for boy?!"

The entire table burst into mirthfulness as Rayse struggled out of the dwarf's grip. Despite his strength, he couldn't wedge himself free, but the headlock didn't last long as the dwarf threw Rayse down onto the floor face-first.

Rayse wiped his mouth and slowly got up as the dwarf took his seat and yelled, "Now get out before I decide ta chop ye into little bits!"

With his hair shadowing his eyes, Rayse got up and started heading for the door, looking dejected. Suddenly, he turned around and headed back towards the group, which was somewhat alerted by the return but still in good spirits from the event earlier.

"What's wrong boy?" said the leader dwarf with one hand already on his axe. "Came to ask for some bows now?"

The dwarves laughed and expected another feat of humiliation, but Rayse stood tall and smiled.

From his mouth came the most damning words in the world, "You know, I heard dwarves were the stupidest, filthiest, most arrogant sons of bitches on Althanas."

This caught the eye of the lone gray-bearded dwarf sitting off by himself. It wasn't a look of anger or disgust, but rather of interest. Of course, for the drunken dwarves in front of the potentially-doomed contractor, these were words of impending destruction to the one who spoke them.

"Now ye've done it!" yelled the leader dwarf, picking up his axe and immediately swinging it from the ground.

It was a surprisingly swift move for such an inebriated dwarf but perhaps dwarven fighting abilities are heightened with the addition of alcohol. Rayse expected the axe to come into play, so he used his quick reflexes and stepped into the attack. With both hands firmly pressed up against the dwarf's chest and bent all the way, he pushed. The dwarf never lost the grip on his axe, but he fell onto the table and slid across it, crashing into one of his accomplices still in a chair on the other end and sending both flying to the floor with the chair shattering on impact. The sound of weapons being unsheathed rang across the tavern. Rayse's opponents had two swords, one greataxe, one over-sized hand axe, and a knife between them. The greataxe-user and one of the sword users were the ones sent to the floor at the start of the fight. Rayse was standing on front of the large round table, and his opponents were one to his right, one further to his right, and three on the other side of the table.

A sword-bearing dwarf stabbed at Rayse from his right side, who deftly dodged it and grabbed the dwarf's sword-arm with his left hand and punched the dwarf's face. Before the dwarf could react, he felt an excruciating burning sensation from his sword-arm and a powerful blow to his cheek, causing him to drop his weapon and move in to desperately counter-attack with his own punch. Rayse, unaware of the hardiness of dwarves to withstand attacks, did not expect a counter-attack so soon and got hit in the gut. The strength of these fighters was no laughing matter either. Were he not a hardy fighter himself, the attack would've caused much more of a response than just a painful cough and slight bending of his body to absorb the blow. After the attack, the dwarf grabbed at Rayse's left hand that was firmly planted on the dwarf's right arm and causing some sort of horrible pain like it was in a furnace, but this grip was advantageous to The Contractor. He didn't realized until now how paralyzed opponents get when they're in unbearable pain. Rayse put his remaining hand on the dwarf's right arm and using a two-handed burning hold, he belt the dwarf's arm and side-stepped to the left and forward, putting him at the dwarf's side. The sword-bearing dwarf was pulled to the left by this action, putting his back to Rayse with his arm behind him. The dwarf almost dropped to one knee due to the immense burning pain, but before he could, he found himself kicked in the back by Rayse and flying into another table, crashing through it.

There was no time to celebrate the victory, as a knife-bearing dwarf came at Rayse next, but that was the wrong kind of weapon to use against The Contractor. Dodging several attacks, Rayse saw his chance stuck his left foot behind the dwarf's left ankle. Ducking under the latest stab, he planted a fist into the dwarf's left side, causing him to try to step back but ending up tripped. He fell onto a chair and crashed through it, dropping his knife on the table. Quickly regaining his composure, he tried to swing at Rayse. The Contractor's reaction time was simply too fast, and the dwarf swung at thin air and felt another painful blow to his left side- this time a kick. He fell on top of the table face-up and winced in fear as he saw his own knife come down upon him with Rayse's hand around the handle. The attack stopped just short of his head, pinning some of his beard to the table.

By this time, another dwarf had made his way around the table and gotten behind Rayse, preferring not to use his hand axe, and right as Rayse turned he threw a punch and just barely nicked The Contractor's cheek. This made Rayse angry, and he started a quick succession of punches that were almost too fast to see. The dwarf dropped to his knees and fell flat on his face at the end of them. The two original casualties- the greataxe-user and the other sword-user, were already up by this time and ready to charge at The Contractor, but a loud gunshot echoed throughout the entire tavern. The bullet flew from the chamber of the barkeep's shaky pistol, flying through the air toward The Contractor. Rayse could only look on in shock in the moment that the gun was fired. The bullet came into contact with Rayse, and a tiny hole made of fire opened up in Rayse's chest that the bullet flew into, and on the other side of his body, that the bullet flew out of. The bullet hit the wall of the establishment near the door, causing a loud noise and forcing the dwarven barkeep to start loading another shot.

Rayse looked at his hands and quickly checked his body, but he appeared to be intact. For all he knew, the barkeep missed. He had no idea that his body instinctively turned a tiny part of his body into a bullet-shaped firey hole for the bullet to harmlessly pass through and then close back up again. Since the event happened so quickly, nobody in the tavern realized what had truly occurred, so they all assumed the barkeep simply missed. Rayse hadn't seen many guns, but that was a pistol, an inaccurate flint-lock weapon that took about a minute to reload per shot. He didn't doubt that Alerar, being as technologically advanced as it is, would have such weapons around the country, but for it to be in such a place like this was entirely unexpected.

"If ye value yer life, ye better get out now and never come back!" shouted the barkeep halfway through reloading his gun. "And you two, don't you dare keep fighting an' messin' up my place or I'll shoot ye too!"

"Fine with me," said Rayse, and he walked out of the tavern amidst the murderous glares of the patrons and the insightful gaze of the lone dwarf. Before making his final exit, his eyes met with the lone dwarf's, as if giving him some special attention.

Outside, he brushed himself off and felt his cheek, which didn't seem to be bleeding. He walked a few feet away from the entrance and put his back to the wall of the place and waited. If his hunch was right, there would be someone coming out in three, two, one...

SLAM! The doors of the tavern closed and out came the lone dwarf, looking right at Rayse.

"Did ye mean what ye said in there?" he asked. "About us dwarves?"

Rayse grinned, "Every word."

The dwarf chuckled, refreshed by The Contractor's honesty, "Any self-respecting dwarf that can't hold his own drink deserves to be insulted."

"Did you just come out here to talk about your race's pride?"

"Not entirely. Did ye also mean what ye said before that?"

Rayse shrugged, "They wouldn't take me at the armory. Something about taxes on their merchandise."

The dwarf's eyes grew darker when he saw that he was right about Rayse.

Rayse continued, "You know, if they didn't trust those damn elves to do the shipping and then get the trains to Salvar hijacked, they wouldn't need to hike the prices like this."

"That's the bloody truth," agreed the dwarf. "But what I'm concerned is what exactly ye plan to offer me."

Rayse smiled. "Figured out that much, have you? See that guy over there?" He pointed at Jame across the street, "He's what you called a disgruntled noble. Sympathetic to the Raiaeran cause, got the money to prove it, but can't do a damn thing under the legal system. Ain't that a damn shame?"

"What makes ye think I would give a damn about their cause either?"

"You don't. Neither do I. But we're businessmen, so our opinions on the matter are irrelevant."

"So ye're telling me you came all the way out to Kachuck to jest broker some low-down deal with a damn elf lover?"

"You're a sharp one, Mr..."

"Dvoran."

"Mr. Dvoran. Let me introduce myself: I am Rayse Valentino, and I represent an organization known as the Red Flag Syndicate, a Corone-based market that imports from Alerar. I want to extend our branch to Kachuck's distinguished services, so to speak."

"Valentino, eh?" Dvoran searched his mind for any trace of the organization Rayse spoke of, and there was a distant memory that had it. Maybe he was looking at a list of some sort at some point, but it definitely seemed like a real group. "And you got the money?"

"I got it somewhere. That's why I brought the alleged elf-lover along."

"Alright," said the dwarf, stroking his gray beard in suspicion. "Let's talk. Meet me at room 2H at the Seven Sounds, bring your friend and no one else."

The dwarf made his goodbyes and walked away, leaving Rayse to himself. The Contractor didn't know what that place was, but it sounded like some sort of inn. It was possible that Jame knew. He put his hand on his gut and it was slightly painful when he pushed in, indicating that even one blow from those dwarves left lasting impressions. He didn't know what could've happened to his face if that other dwarf's fist connected. He walked over to Jame.

"See? I told you I would get my contact. Room 2H at some place called Seven Sounds."

He was glad that he got it right on the first try, even though he apparently almost got himself killed. Starting fights at every tavern in town would've definitely cost him his life, whether from the fights themselves or the execution by High Graf when the authorities arrested him.

[Call me J]

Jame hadn’t been so excited about the plan of letting Rayse enter the tavern alone, but he had decided not to complain because it wasn’t worth getting in an argument over something that relatively minor. However, the moment that Jame heard a gunshot, he wanted to rush into the tavern. Rayse emerged soon after, and though Jame had drawn a weapon, he found that he had no need for it. The contractor had emerged without even a scratch on him, an impressive feat given that there was only so much room in a tavern to dodge a bullet.

Curiously, the half dragon paid attention as best as he could to the conversation between the Contractor and the dwarf, wondering if somehow in the middle of whatever violence might have happened in the tavern, Rayse had been able to come up with the deal that would get them in with the people that they needed to be in with.

“He’s resourceful, “ Jame thought, unsure what to make of Rayse. Alerar’s traditional skepticism was beginning to wear off on him, and when things had seemed to fall in place so easily, he couldn’t help but think that he might be witnessing too much of a good thing. Keeping that thought to himself, because he knew any sign of mistrust could only lead to danger if Rayse truly was sincere, Jame nodded in appreciation as Rayse told him about the contact.

The Seven Sounds was a hotel that serviced a very specific type of clientele. Though Jame had never visited himself, he was more than familiar with the kinds of nobles who went to a place like that. Soon enough, they were all brought up to the High Graf Schynius on accusations of treason. The Seven Sounds wasn’t as much of a hotel as it was a breeding ground for aborted revolutions and corrupt deals. If there was some kind of black market going on, it was likely that the Seven Sounds was connected.

If there was a charade at work, it was quite an elaborate one. Jame decided to put away his sudden apprehensions, knowing that no good could have come of them. He looked around to make sure that there was no one in ear shot that could have caught what he was saying, paying extra attention to look into the nearby shop windows to make sure that no one was peering out. “The Seven Sounds is over by the Lekhmican family mine, I don’t remember if you were paying much attention to the Graf earlier, but I think they’re suspected in this somehow. Not exactly sure how the politics go with these mining families, but at least one of them is at least profiting off this venture…”

Jame grinned eagerly. Things were coming together well enough. “Was there a meeting time?” Jame asked. “If we have some time, I think we should go and look at the mines… just to see if we learn something there we might be able to use later.”

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse didn't recall hearing about any meeting time, but he figured there was an expected 'get your shit together' phase that he's at least allotted before going there. Plus, it would help to know exactly where the mines were and what was going on over there. Although, who was he kidding? He had no idea what Jame wanted to do in some cave. It was trivial to contest his idea however, he may be on to something and it was worth the trip.

Looking towards the mountains, he strained his eyes to see the various structures scattered around them. He knew that in some parts of the mines lurked ancient horrors, while others were entirely docile and ready for mining. Could this new strain that the racketeers are profiting from be from one of those dangerous caves?

Rayse replied, "No meeting time that I heard of, generally in business talk that means we go when we're all set. We got some time."

The two of them went off toward the mines. Honestly, there was something bothering Rayse about that place, but he ignored it for now.

[Call me J]

Jame thought it odd no meeting time was given, but he figured that the interaction had been so quick that it might have just been something that had gotten lost in passing. Unlike everything else that he seemed to be dealing with, there was no particular mystery of interest there. Instead, they were going to inspect the mines to pass the time before going to the Seven Sounds.

There were really two reasons that the half dragon thought it was in their best interest inspecting the mines before getting involved with the arms traders. First, he didn’t want to appear too eager. While he wanted to go to the Seven Sounds, he feared that if he were to arrive too early, both he and Rayse wouldn’t be seen as negotiating from a position of weakness. Though Jame intended to let Rayse take care of their bargain, he didn’t want his impatience to lead to them entering from an already compromised position. Checking out the mines gave them something to do.

More importantly, Jame realized that investigating the mines could pay out in other more important ways. One of the things that varied the most among the mining companies was the way that they treated their workers. The ones that had treated their workers well tended to have loyalty, the ones that did not, often had their bolder employees looking to make side deals where they could. Jame felt they needed to know what kind of an operation was being run by the Lekhmicans. The better treated the dwarves were, the more likely it was that the mine owners themselves were corrupt. Jame doubted that even if he and Rayse could have arranged for a transaction, that kind of information would be considerably more difficult to find.

As they moved towards he mines, Jame sighed. He realized why it was so important than neither he nor his partner had strong ties to the region, lest they be discovered, but it seemed almost cruel to make two people with so little knowledge dependent on each other in such a high stakes situation. Jame had been to Kachuk once before for Sine Nomine, so he had a general idea of how the mines worked and the area was laid out, but he had to rely far too much on stereotypes and caricatures of places and customs instead of knowing about the real thing. He just hoped that he didn’t miscalculate because of that.

As they made their way towards the mines, Jame was mostly introspective. By the time they had reached the quarry, they had already passed by the Seven Seasons, and the half dragon had made sure to point it out to his partner of sorts. “We’ll head back there when we’re done,” he said.

When they reached the quarry, the first thing that Jame did even before descending down to the caves was glance at the security around him. Most mines in Kachuk were surprisingly not that well guarded, all things considered, but Jame was more concerned about the way that the dwarves were monitored. From what he could see, save for a foreman who seemed more interested in smoking his pipe than anything else, the dwarves were mostly on their own.

“It’s got to be the family then somehow,” he thought. “They’re at least letting it happen. If the High Graf is concerned about this, he’s definitely told the families. Hell, most of the people who run these places are Grafs in the first place. There’s a rogue somewhere among the Lekhmicans, and its going to be up to us to find out who.”

With a somber expression on his face, Jame turned to Rayse. He pointed towards a small, poorly built wooden shack that stood right in front of the mouth of the mine. “That’s probably the foreman’s office. Someone with sales will be in there. We won’t be able to make any kind of deal for Mythril, but I’m going to go down and get a closer look at what the people are doing. If anyone asks, we’re just looking for some bauxite, and if we’re confronted on it later, we’ll admit it was just a cover, alright?”

With that, Jame made his way down the steps carved out of the quarry stone to reach the level of the caves. A few dwarves looked at him but went back to sharpening their tools, though a particularly burly one stopped him right before he reached the office.

“Whaddya want?” the dwarf asked.

“I’m looking to buy bauxite,” Jame said. “I’m with a company out of Corone. They needed someone to act as a liason…”

The dwarf scowled. “We don’ want any new biz’ ‘ere,” he said, reaching for a dagger in what seemed to be more of an attempt to intimidate than to assault. “We got enough already, ‘specially not when new biz comes from people we don’t know…”

“It’s bauxite…” Jame began, before he realized that protesting wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Fine, have it your way,” he concluded, before heading back up out of the quarry. With a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, he hoped he could justify the little excursion to Rayse. He didn’t want the Contractor doubting his competency when they had so much farther in the mission to go.

“Things are a bit strange there,” Jame said as he whispered to Rayse. “Dwarves usually don’t give a damn about the mines. If one is stepping up to protect a secret, he’s going to have a reason. When we get to the Seven Seasons, I bet we find out what that reason is…”

[Rayse Valentino]

As Jame walked down to the foreman's office, Rayse crossed his arms and looked upon the half-dragon's progress with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't that he didn't believe Jame had the capacity to do what he said he was going to do, but something about him was off to Rayse. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first or even the second he felt that way about somebody. The last time he felt something, it turned out that a previous partner named Nirov was a vampire. If he didn't follow his gut feeling then, he wouldn't be standing here today. Now, he didn't think Jame was a vampire, but...

Before he could continue this train of thought, Jame came back and tried to justify his excursion with some insight. It was a fair observation, and certainly worthy of some inquiry, but Rayse just didn't see the value in practicality. Then again, he wasn't exactly privy to how things worked around here. There may have been more to it than he thought, but at this point he was going to leave the theories to Jame. He had something much more important to think about right now: The negotiations.

Rayse and Jame soon found themselves inside the inn known as Seven Sounds, which for all intents and purposes was a high-class institution. The ones who stayed there were known, and it restrained the leash of the government by offering expensive accommodations to them. This was a little much to ascertain at a glance, but Rayse was sure that whoever this Dvoran character was, this was serious. This meeting could hold all the answers Rayse and Jame were seeking. It could also hold absolutely nothing. Rayse believed in the former. In any case, it's a surgery that needs to be performed even if the patient doesn't survive. They were expected. They were lead up to the specific room by a bellhop.

The doors opened, and inside it was dark. The sun was blocked on the back side of the inn and the curtains were drawn on the windows, so the only significant light was from the candles lit around the room. It was ominous, sure, but for the most part it was discreet. It was a room with specifically arranged furniture so as to fashion an office, with a desk in the center and no beds in sight. Rayse wondered what kind of business normally took place in this room.

"Aye, welcome gentlemen," said Dvoran behind the desk, pointing to the two chair in front of it. "Make yerself seated. Would any of ye like a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks, for both of us," answered Rayse. At this point, he was extremely suspicious. There was probably nothing wrong with the coffee, but it was the thought that counts. He wanted Dvoran to know that despite whatever friendliness he displayed earlier, this time it's pure business.

"Suit yerself," shrugged the dwarf, sipping from his mug. He looked at Jame like he was some sort of outcast.

Rayse knew what was coming: He'll want to know why he should listen to anything we have to say. It wasn't even whether or not the business plan was profitable or tempting. The issue was merely why he should listen. It is in this fashion that the black market avoids government inquiry. In short, their reasoning was insufficient. While he thought his way of getting the dwarf's attention was clever, this was clearly not the first time that outside parties have gotten a hold of him. How many did he turn down? Rayse started to think that he was underestimating the tightness of Dvoran's operation before. No matter, he had to keep his cool.

"Red Flag Syndicate," Dvoran spoke, putting down his mug and picking up a small stack of papers that appeared to be a report, "Imports mainly from the outskirts of Ettermire."

Rayse was surprised, but it was a good sort of surprise. He thought he almost started hearing 'Does not have any operatives by the name of Rayse Valentino.' The Graf was maybe due more credit than The Contractor originally thought. He had picked an organization that had a reputation and was believable, but not big enough to have entire inventory of its membership. In short, it was just big enough to be noticed, but not big enough for the people who notice it to care.

"That's correct," Rayse affirmed, just going by what he read off his cue card earlier.

Dvoran crossed his arms, "It's a lot o' trouble to run shipments way out here, ye got the logistics for it?"

Rayse felt his eyebrows lower to form an angry expression, but suppressed himself. It was a stupid question. It was clear that Dvoran was trying to take control of the conversation already, as any answer would put the dwarf in the lead already. Rayse decided that he had to go on the aggressive a lot earlier than he planned. Unfortunately, he had to let go of one of his better cards.

"It ain't no Salvaran Winter, let me tell you. Trying to move some metal through Iorlan's Canal during the worst season is like pulling teeth."

"Oh? And here I thought you were a Coronian Human. Tell me more about that."

Rayse knew what Dvoran was getting at: Why does Rayse have a Salvaran anecdote when he represents a Coronian company? The answer was to put this deal back into Rayse's hands. It was no lie that he was a contractor. Dvoran was testing him and the accuracy of his statements. Of course, this was a positive sign for Rayse and Jame's investigation. Whoever Dvoran represented, it was definitely the organization that they were looking for, at least it matched the description. No public business, extremely hard to even entertain an offer, mouthpieces acting paranoid due to government inquiry, and finally this. Dvoran suspected that Rayse and Jame were government, as he did everyone- now they just had to prove otherwise.

"Ever since they dug up that canal, all sorts of merchants have been utilizing it for trade. Ever since Salvar's mines became a hotbed of activity, the canal has seen all kinds of business. I tried to set up a chain of supply using this canal to get metal from the mines into Knife's Edge, but it takes nerves of steel to even use the damn thing. Three of the twelve damn men I put in charge of the transportation got frostbite, while four more got hypothermia. Halfway down the damn thing the water becomes so shallow you basically have to get back on land for nearly three miles. Maybe if I was some millionaire I could afford the kind of investment it takes to get something like that going, but if you're just importing? It's not worth it. Compared to that, going up these red hills is a cake walk."

Although as far as Dvoran knew he was describing a Red Flag Syndicate attempt at Salvaran trade, Rayse was actually sharing an experience of his own independent contracting. The fact that it wasn't successful shares the lack of information regarding Red Flag in this instance.

"What about you?" Dvoran spoke to Jame. "What's your story, ye elf-lover?"

It was a sign that Dvoran didn't care for Rayse's explanations anymore. The dwarf had lost the high ground in pegging The Contractor, so he turned to the only other one he had suspicions about. Rayse didn't like this, as he wanted to maintain his position as the talking party, but he had no choice but to submit to this inquiry. He really wanted Jame to say the right thing. While Rayse had to play the part of the professional, Jame had to purposely act like an amateur. If his lines were too scripted, Dvoran would catch on to his disgruntled noble act, but if he acted like he had no idea how to conduct business, this venture wasn't worth it to the dwarf. No matter how much money Jame could have, if he represented a risk then all that money would be lost anyway. In a way, Jame's part of the deal was much more important than Rayse's.

[Call me J]

The half dragon had been content to let Rayse handle most of the discussion for the two of them. They were in Rayse’s element again, which was something that Jame appreciated. His knowledge of Alerar was almost exclusively limited to Ettermire, and the few things he knew about Kachuk would be of little help in this situation. Now that he was faced with a question, he had no idea of how he’d even begin to answer. He paused long enough to let Rayse interject if he had wanted, but as Jame had feared, there was no way for the contractor to insert himself without it being suspicious.

Supressing the giant sigh that wanted to accompany his response, Jame answered, vague to a fault. “I’m just looking for a way to get some weapons to Raiaera…” he began. “I have ties with Tel Aglarim, friends I want to help, but more importantly, you know the troubles they’re having. The threat of Xem’zund supersedes any other rivalry.”

“So yer in this fer a noble cause then, aint ya elf lover?” the dwarf replied. “And yer man with Red Flag, he’s jus’ coming along outta goodness too?”

Before Jame could say anything this time, Rayse interjected. It was a welcome interjection. “Depends on how much you think the goodness of my heart is worth.”

Jame suppressed a smile. That was exactly the kind of answer that fit a mercenary. “He’s here because he knows profit,” Jame agreed. “Even in a war, Raiaera pays. I just want the weapons, but there’s enough gold that’ll be moving through that there’s going to be lots for all of you. Think about all the elves in Anebrilith with property to spare and a looming enemy. What do you think they care about in that economy?”

The dwarf didn’t look any more pleased with this answer than when he had started talking to Jame. “Ye seem like ye came in pretty smart on some things,” the dwarf began.

The half dragon had been anticipating this response from the dwarf and had an answer prepared. “I know what it’s like there…” he began. “Why do you think I’m helping, that I’m secretly in love with elves? If that’s what you mean, you know what I’ve been doing.”

Scowling, as if the answer had been too good, Dvoran followed up with a second trapping question. Whaddye know about these mines then?” he asked.

Before Jame could answer, Rayse did. “I know that you didn’t start crowding around a strain of bauxite,” the contractor said knowingly. “The demand in Radasanth is for high-quality goods, the kind you don’t find on the local market. The kind the government would like to keep for themselves.”

Jame grinned slightly, despite himself. Rayse had just provided them with an excellent cover with the early digging that had backfired on them. Still, the half dragon didn’t want Dvoran to press Rayse on this line, especially after the incident in the bar made the half dragon suspect that the contractor could at times be unpredictable. Eager to change the subject, he added, “I know the Red Flag knows what they’re doing, they can get the shipments where they need to go, as long as we have the shipments.”

The dwarf didn’t seem too happy, but Jame knew it was for a good reason. Jame was sure that Dvoran had wanted to have found a way to trap them, and that he had failed. Now, the half dragon could only hope the appeal of gold would be too much for the dwarf to pass up on.

Soon, Dvoran spoke. “I’ll be honest with ye, we’ve had a lot of them gov’ment imbeciles in ‘ere trying things. Ye know who we are, that’s a bit suspicious. I like what I’m ‘earing though, ye lads will be able to make a deal once things settle down. I can’t say nothing sure to ye now, but someone above me might be interested. Then we’ll have a deal or not, eh?”

Neither Jame nor Rayse did much more than nod to that. It took all of the half dragon’s focus just to control his exuberance. With that matter settled, Dvoran led them to a room where he told them they could wait until there was a deal.

Once they were in the room, Jame set his weapons down on the bed, did a cursory search of the room for any miniaturized spies, and then looked outside to see if anyone was listening. To the best he knew, they were alone, but it was difficult to know for certainty in Alerar. The room was well furnished enough to have too many hiding places. There were two beds, a table, a mirror and a small little closet, thousands of places where a shapeshifting spy might have been able to conceal himself. In fact, Jame realized that any one of those pieces of furniture could have been a shapeshifting spy in and of itself.

However, the half dragon needed a release after what had amounted to an interrogation from Dvoran. He hadn’t expected the dwarf to be nearly as hard on them, especially after the way Rayse had framed the situation. “Well, we’re here,” he said, giving absolutely nothing away as he plopped down on his bed to get a moment’s peace.

(Moderator note: Consider this post a collaborative effort)

[Rayse Valentino]

As Rayse was lead into his temporary stay of execution (or at least that's what he thought of it), he thought about the implications of the interview. He thought Dvoran sounded pretty honest, but he was obviously not the one to give the final say around here. If someone above him was going to be a lot harder to deal with, this plan was going to hit a snag. A fatal snag. Nonetheless, the two were getting closer to their goal. Soon they would be going to the place of no return, where if they don't break the deal they'll probably be gutted. Rayse didn't know where this place was exactly, or what to expect, but hopefully Jame had at least an idea.

"That we are," Rayse replied as he walked into the room behind Jame. The door closed behind them.

The room was a modest one. Rayse didn't feel like they were the first 'investors' to stay here, which made him walk around the room casually, rubbing his hands across the various furniture and walls as he strolled through. There was actually a small bathroom here as well, which he also visited briefly before returning to the bedroom and sitting down on the vacant second bed. He stretched his arms out and yawned, catching a glance at his wary companion.

"Don't worry so much. I could tell through that interview that Dvoran usually gets rid of people like us, which means he doesn't ordinarily prepare a suspicious room like this. There were no recent changes here that I noticed, and that's good enough for me."

Plus, Rayse didn't peg the dwarf as a back-stabber. He seemed honest. He seemed sincere. These were not qualities of an underground businessman. The dwarf may be a veteran of the mines who got roped into this mess through his sheer experience. All these points were moot, however. Rayse simply scanned the room and found nothing, and there was really no time for this room to be bugged in the first place. He kept his voice low, however.

"Anyway, since we're in this deep, I'd just like to reconfirm what it is that we're after exactly. Put simply, to find who's pulling the strings and which strings are being pulled. Let me be honest here, I don't think the latter is possible without coercing one of them to come with us. The likelihood of all their operations being in one nice stack of memoirs is abysmal. As for who is running this show? That's probably the next step. Dvoran is a middle man, and I think he's the middle man for the guy in charge."

Rayse didn't point out how the guy in charge might be one of Jame's bosses, but he also had no way to confirm that it was the case either. He hoped that The Graf was right in that nobody knew who Jame was, otherwise they were both already dead.

At this time, there were a few knocks on the door. Rayse, already halfway up, went to open it and in wheeled a big dinner feast. It was still a bit early for dinner, however.

"What's this?" Rayse asked the bellboy pushing the cart in.

"Courtesy of The House, sir. I've been instructed to ask the gentlemen in this room to spend the night and await a guest in the morning."

Figures. It was the same everywhere. Underground bureaucracy took just as long in every continent. He hoped that The Company would never fall into this cycle of waiting for papers to be shuffled. Although, this once again affirmed that Dvoran was taking their offer seriously, so he had to wait it out.

"Alright. You can go."

When the door closed again, Rayse peeked under the coverings on the food. A big T-bone steak was staring him in the face, taunting him.

"So about what I said earlier..." he said in his low voice again. "What do you think?"

[Rayse Valentino]

"Don't worry so much," assured Jame. "When you see the mines, you'll understand why what we need has to be somewhere inside."

That night at The Dusty Bronze, the dwarven barkeep impatiently tipped his fingers on the counter as he stared at the cleared out room. The chairs and tables that were still intact were stacked in the corners, and the floor was recently cleaned. The swinging doors squeaked open, and two figures entered and walked up to the counter.

"Took ye two long enough," complained the barkeep.

The shorter figure replied, "What did ye expect? Yer lucky we just happen ta be passing by." His name was Lonan Stronghammer. "Ye said there's a hunt ta be had?"

With long brown braids and a full plate of armor, the dwarf was almost as large as his namesake hammer on his back. While Lonan stood at five feet, his hammer was nearly six feet long. He was part of the elite mercenary duo known throughout Alerar as The Dwarf and Drow. His partner, towering at six and a half feet, was a mute drow who didn't wear nearly the same amount of armor as his partner. Known for his speed, his name was Nightfly. His silver hair covered his pale red eyes. Sporting a dark green leather tunic with matching green pants, the two rapiers at his sides indicated his assassin style. On his back was an indiscernible long object with some width wrapped in a cloth.

The barkeep continued, "I've lived in this town my entire life, and watching those Grafs make fools of us puts me on edge. When some human comes in here and does the same, that's when I can't take it anymore." He gave them Rayse's description and sent them on their way.

* * * *

The next morning, Jame was already up and looking out the window when Rayse stirred out of his bed.

"I have a plan," Jame announced. "Just follow my lead when we get there."

"Oh?" asked a groggy Rayse while rubbing his eyes. "And here I thought I was going to have to improvise to my grave."

[Rayse Valentino]

As they were lead to the grand entrance of the mines by one of the dwarf servants, Rayse noticed the suspicious looks they were getting from the dwarves and drow along their way. There's no shortage of witnesses, that's for sure. Whatever happened in there, they couldn't get out the way they came in. Along the walls of the mountain they could see small openings with mine tracks, where carts were being pushed in and out at various intervals. Once inside the towering hole that marked the innards of the mountain, they saw around them a grand hall that stretched as far as the eye could see. The wide and tall walls were smoothed and engraved with various lore and tales of dwarven bravery, and after a few minutes of walking they came upon a smaller stone entrance, but still big enough for a giant to pass through.

On the other side Dvoran was waiting for them. Although, Dvoran was the least on their minds inside of what can only be described as a bottomless chasm in front of the platform they were standing on. Grand roads at their sides went up and down, leading to 'streets' where stone houses were embedded into the cavern walls. In front of them was a torch-lit walkway that went over the chasm, leading to the other side which had similar plateaus of houses along the walls. There were no lights in the houses, and they looked like mere shells of buildings.

"One day we'll move in," smiled Dvoran. "No longer will our proud people bow to the whims of the outside world."

They went across the walkway, and while Jame was perfectly comfortable standing at its side with railing so high he could barely peek over it with his head, Rayse walked along the walkway's center. Falling into the center of the world was not on today's agenda. At the end of the walkway, they entered one of the man tunnels along the walls. At this point, Dvoran turned around and asked the two to comply with his wishes.

They were fulling expecting this. A few of his subordinates blindfolded the two and spun them around a few times, finally continuing down the tunnel. While Rayse had lost his sense of direction, Jame was perfectly aware of where he was at the start of the tour. He could re-trace his steps if necessary.