The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

It was past dusk when Valle Irons left his storehouse, located to the rear of the Merchant's Quarter. His ring box was tucked comfortably in his coat pocket, and he made a point of regularly checking his pocket every few seconds just to ensure it was still there.

The risk of pickpockets was still high, after all. But given how damn tricky magic could be, he wouldn't put it past the promethium ring to magically grow legs and sprint out of his pocket whenever he stopped paying attention.

Could never be too careful when it came to anything wizard-adjacent. For the entirety of his life, magic had been a perpetual pain for him. It was the bane of any rational layman.

He bustled carefully through the darkened backstreets, the mouth of each alleyway framed by flickering orange flames from the streetlamps. Rats skulked in the dark, watching him from their haunts with beady eyes. Rats in Sentinel were as likely to pick a mans pocket as a cutpurse was.

He wished, oh so dearly, to simply go home and sleep. But between the siren call of the tavern, where the promise of liquor was just as tempting as the promise of gambling, and needing to make one final appointment for the night, he knew it would be some time before he could set his head down and close his eyes.

Valle's path took him through several winding streets, where he felt his eyes wander and dart to every shadow. Violent crime was rare in the Merchant's Quarter, particularly when it was compared to Lowtown or the Spokes. But never non-existent.

Eventually, Valle came to a stop in a trash-strewn back lot, surrounded by burned-out buildings that had been boarded up and abandoned for several months. Hardly glamorous, as far as meeting places went, but certainly isolated and private.

Darkness surrounded him, and when he peered into that thick blackness there were no signs of life to be found. "Askyr!" he called in a hushed hiss. "Are you there?"

"Yes, yes. Of course I am. I was the one who set this appointment, after all," a figure said in a languid voice, emerging from the darkness. The air smoked and shimmered around him, shadows melting away to reveal a slim man in a dark jerkin, trousers, and boots. A sword was hitched to his left him, and a silvery scar ran down his right cheek. The eye above it was discoloured, sporting a similar silver sheen.

Valle took a hesitant step back, staring at the crimson-haired man. "I was... well I wasn't certain if things had changed. I'm aware your schedule can be rather chaotic, you know."

Askyr settled his hands on his hips. "If things changed, I'd send a messenger to inform you. It would be foolish not to. I should hope you're not attempting to second guess me."

"Ah... of course." Valle swallowed hard and glanced away. "Apologies." Even discounting Askyr's magical abilities, Valle knew him to be a dangerous man. His connections and resources so vast that he was damn near a deity compared to Valle. A mark was faintly visible under his collar: A skull merged with a five-pointed star.

Grunting, Askyr made for a stack of discarded lumber and took a seat. "Your last shipment was most welcome," he said, flicking a hand through his hair. "Lord Bleak appreciates your continued cooperation. You have proven to be a valued asset, deserving of continued support. To that end, we need you to gather more armaments for the cause."

Whatever 'the cause' was, Askyr had never deigned to provide Valle with too much in the realm of details. For the best, Valle noted. Whatever Askyr was actually involved with, he'd frankly rather not know. But some of the rumours he had heard managed to chill Valle to his very bones.

He wanted to believe they were just rumours, yet the gruesome tales still haunted him.

Askyr handed over a folded piece of paper, which Valle opened and promptly read through. Sweat beaded on his brow with rising prominence as he surveyed the high figures being expected of him, which nearly made his head spin.

"You... you can't possibly be serious..."

Askyr looked him in the eye, the sheer power of his glare halting Valle mid-sentence. "Valle, am I wearing a hat with big jingling bells sewn to the fabric?"

"Er... no?"

"I see. Then, is my face covered by a thick layer of colourful makeup? Am I wearing a motley, or capering about on all fours while spinning dreadful jokes?"

Valle paled. "No, sir, you are not."

His benefactor nodded. "Then what exactly is it that has caused you to mistake me for some kind of troubadour, or jester? Because I would have thought that any order of requisition I give you should be treated as serious, and not some kind of jape. Truly, I am bewildered."

Silence fell between them. Askyr's glare could have killed a man. And, in all likelihood, had done so in the past.

"It's just..." Valle checked the sheet again, which trembled in his grasp. "The amounts you're asking me for... this much powder, this much steel... It's an obscene amount, even with my resources and connections. People will notice!"

"His lordship is confident in your abilities," the older man simply replied.

'His lordship.' Valle wanted to scoff. Leave it to bandits to style themselves as kings the moment they got a taste of power. Still, he knew better than to be disrespectful. Or to underestimate the wealth Askyr's employer could call upon.

"The confidence is appreciated, but that doesn't change the fact that he wants enough material to fund an army. I know smugglers, and talented men who can cook the books for me, but eventually Archchancellor Velasco's eye will be drawn by way. And if that happens..."

There were countless tales of what Velasco did to those who undermined Sentinel. Those who undermined him, specifically, who tried to sneak things under his nose and defy his edicts. The worst part was that many of those tales were barely exaggerations. The best one could hope for was a quick trip to the guillotine. Often called 'Velasco's parting wave', always when the archchancellor was nowhere in sight.

Those who didn't get a quick execution, well it didn't bear thinking about.

"You will be fine, provided you are calm and keep conducting business as usual. Velasco has many fires to put out as it stands, his eye won't even wander your way," Askyr explained, hooking a thumb into his belt. "And, lest we forget, it's only by our clemency that your debt collectors have yet to come for you."

Valle felt his mouth run dry, his pulse immediately spiking. His debts, as ever, hung over his neck like Velasco's parting wave. A lifetime of gambling and dodgy bets that had sought to rot the foundations of his enterprises. He couldn't help it, he was a man who remained a victim to his compulsions and greed. And while Askyr's money and aid had made him seem like a saviour sent by the Goddess herself, he had simply traded one kind of debt for another in the end.

"I haven't forgotten," Valle eventually replied, fretting awkwardly with his hands..

"See to it that you never do," Askyr replied, his voice carrying the weight of countless dead men.

He spent some moments quietly contemplating his options, all the sources and contacts he had access to. He supposed it would be possible, eventually, to get what he needed. But as he contemplated who he knew, a sudden bolt of inspiration struck him.

Elijah! Of course, good old Elijah! That man had a finger in every pie, he knew merchants and suppliers from every corner of Arcadia. And the ring in his pocket was the perfect payment for the job!

An uneasy grin broke out on Valle's face, but he smothered it before Askyr could see it. "I think I can get what you need in a timely fashion. But I'll need to call upon some old connections, and it may be... a few weeks to get the entire list completed." Even if he could confirm all those resources, it would still take time to have everything shipped across Arcadia.

"Fine. Take your time, as long as we receive a steady stream of supplies. I have but one request: Make a sample batch of the ball bearings as soon as possible. Just to ensure they're built to the precise specifications listed." Askyr was a firm man, and his mere presence sent a shudder racing through Valle's entire body. But he was, at least, reasonable in some regards. And patient, unlike some of the loan sharks Valle had the displeasure of knowing.

"Of course, of course," Valle replied with a swift nod. He paused, hesitating and furrowing his brow, while Askyr moved to leave. "Just... one thing." Askyr halted, his back to the weapon merchant. "I've heard... stories. Tales of villages being attacked by well-armed hordes. Of towns being assaulted by cannon fire. Is this... is this being done by the resources I've supplied you with?"

Askyr was silent for some time, refusing to look back at him. "The less you know," he eventually replied, "the better." He strode off into the darkness, leaving Valle gripped with a coldness that chilled his very bones.