“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. As you have no doubt read in my letter, the matter is quite serious.” The overdressed, overweight man leaned further forward over Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s oak desk, his chair groaning under the strain of his weight. He was Jonathan Woodheight, the brother of assassinated senator Franklyn Woodheight, and was what Shinsou Vaan Osiris would describe as the very epitome of a Radasanthian fatcat, someone he saw as a wretched creature with an ill-fitting grey hairpiece and terminally puffed out, bloated cheeks.

He was also the last person the Telgradian had expected to hear from, given Jonathan’s opposition to the Brotherhood and almost unequivocal support for the organisation’s outlawing in the senate, before the calamity, yet here he was. Luckily, he also seemed to be completely unaware that it was in fact the Brotherhood’s co-leader, Storm Veritas, who had killed his brother all those years ago. The irony of all of this was not lost on the Telgradian as he leant back and thumbed through the pages of Woodheight’s letter.

“You’ll have to forgive my surprise at your request, Senator, given your somewhat strong opposition to our operations in Radasanth,” Shinsou said, his tone shifting upwards as he shuffled to the second page of the slanted, scrawled prose, “…but even more surprising is what you are offering. Two hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces to find this Thomas Moorcroft, but yet you can’t tell us any details about what he was looking for?”

“Don’t misunderstand me; we do not approve of your activities, nor of your attitude towards the Assembly. However, me and you are both men of diplomacy. I am asking for your help because I know you personally have experience in Fallien, and the sum I am willing to pay is hefty because it will reflect the difficulty of a task that has so far eluded two other search parties. There will, however, be a non-disclosure agreement between us.” Woodheight’s voice was rough and raspy, result of the vocal cords constantly drowned down in finest brandy and cigar smoke. “Thomas Moorcroft is a national treasure, one of our best state archaeologists, and it is imperative he is brought home safely. Do not be offended, but what he was looking for in Fallien is a mututally exclusive matter to locating him, and is beyond your purview. That is a matter for the state.”

“Assuming, of course, I agree to this. You see, the offense is not my concern, Senator. What is my concern is whether what he was looking for is something I need to be factoring into in mine and my men’s safety. This is a lot of money for just a glitzed up search and rescue.” Shinsou replied, his white sleeved arms crossed across his chest as he looked down at Woodheight with a slightly annoyed glance. He didn’t trust the senator, but then again, that was nothing new. Trust always came in short supply, and dangling words like “non-disclosure agreement” and “beyond your purview” was not going to help Shinsou dip into that well of good faith any time soon.

“Fallien is a dangerous place in general. You know this, and I know your abilities are well beyond the average and more than enough to cope with the environment.” Again, a vague, uninterested reply in a tone that said that Woodheight had neither the patience or the inclination to explain further. But the Telgradian was unscathed by this, his eyes gleaming up at the man with a keen look that silently insisted on elaboration. Woodheight sighed deeply, shifting a little bit. “All I can tell you is that Moorcroft was in the glasslands, doing some field research.”

Shinsou seemed untouched by this, his stern ironclad face not displaying the annoyance of this revelation. “An archaeologist doing field research in the glasslands, huh? Let’s do some maths, here. The only people who willingly go into the glasslands are those who study the ancient Thayne. It’s the homeland of some of the most celebrated and worshipped, like Jya, and Suravani. Mr Woodheight, it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out from your evasiveness on the subject and deliberate lack of detail that he probably found something he shouldn’t have done. Or, more accurately, something he was looking for all along. The question is, what?”

“Look, Osiris. You and your men do your job and I’ll provide the payment at the end of this. It’s as simple as that.” Woodheight’s tone was definite, making it known that this was not a matter he wanted to discuss any further. Shinsou momentarily took this with a grim frown, before composing himself.

“For two hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces, I’ll find anyone you want. However, if we get over there, and something you could have prepared me for ends up endangering me or the men, rest assured you’ll be seeing me again. Are we crystal clear? ” and with that said, the two men shook hands before Jonathan Woodheight turned around and went away grunting something. Shinsou sat back further into his chair, who was shortly joined by his red-headed bodyguard Raine. She had, of course, listened to the whole conversation.

“They must think I was born yesterday,” Shinsou commented silently, his eyes falling on the alabaster skin of Raine’s pretty face, “Moorcroft’s found something there they want so badly that they have resorted to asking me for help finding him. It has to be something big.”

“Yeah, definitely,” the redhead said softly, “Did you see how jittery he was?” she paused, her smiling face cocked gently in an attempt to catch his eyes. “You’re curious, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t hold on to his strict visage at those words. “Yeah, on two things; what Moorcroft found for them, and on how they’re going to try to screw us.” he replied, his frown wiped away instantly and his worried face transformed into an uncertain smile.