Chapter 22, Engines of War

***

Sometimes all it takes is a little push

Sometimes it just takes a little experimenting

All we need is a chance

And we will take it

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.15, Khamere

     The Baron and Chancellor walked through the heavy metal paddock, noting the runes of strength etched into the silvery surface. A strange coiled instrument wrapped around a modified cannon sat in the middle of the clearing. Dozens of assistance running about, checking gauges and meters. 

     The Forgemaster sat on a small wooden stool, etching new runes into the cannon’s surface. Rising only when Lucas and Michéle coughed to get the Master’s attention. “Ah! You’re finally here! Come I have something I know the Federation will be pleased with!”

     “What do you have planned here? I see the cannon, and some shells I’ve never seen before.” Michéle noted, eyeing the equipment again. 

     “Well our tests have dialed in the accuracy, our last test landed square on our target four miles out…” The Forgemaster started.

     “Four miles!? What? What did you do?” Michéle started, his mind visibly racing. Lucas set a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. 

     “Pardon, please explain what you have made.” Lucas calmly said, a gracious smile on his face. 

     “Well I thought it up when I stumbled on a rune structure after speaking with that Goblin Priestess.” Lucas gave a look of disapproval and skepticism, but silenced Michéle before he spoke as well. “Her language as explained to me by The Bluejay is similar to the old Fae tongue. Which might I add are the ones who came up with rune structures. Anyway, dialects and lost languages aside, she was wearing a symbol that I hadn’t seen before. Those runes on the metal walls being it, I found that it doesn’t quite mean strength in the way we know it, but it also synergizes with almost every rune I have tried it with.”

     “That being said, when I used it in combination with a few choice runes of amplification and efficiency, it made whatever I used the rune with, devastatingly effective. With the threat of war on our horizons again, I thought to test it with our existing weaponry.” The Forgemaster waved to a stockpile of cannons off to the side of the clearing, the politicians hadn’t noticed. However, they saw the cracks and blown out barrels. 

     “We found that we needed to make a few adjustments. First off, we needed to change the composition of the metal. Iron wouldn’t do, we needed steel. Hardened, and high resistance to pressure and heat. We used the cannons and found that they could land a shot at a distance far exceeding what it was originally capable of.”

     “Problem is we couldn’t land any shots with a consistent accuracy. So we rifled the barrels, increasing our accuracy to a large degree. But!” The Forgemaster raised a finger and pointed at the pile of shells. “We found a better shape for the ordinance. A smoothed out arrow tip shape, well, more of a bullet. Either way, this gave us the ability to pinpoint targets within a few feet.”

     “How long did this take you?” Lucas asked the Forgemaster, folding his arms as he looked away from the cannon, to give his attention to the Gnome.

     “Only a few weeks, I do have many skilled metalworkers after all. Changing metal composition and casting materials is child's play in my Forgehouse!” The Master exclaimed.

     “I want to see this tested. I need to see it with my own eyes.” Michéle stated, looking down at the cannon, the heavy metal shell in his hands.

     “I thought you’d never ask!” 

     A few moments later, the Baron and the Chancellor were stationed on a raised platform with the Forgemaster checking off lists as they readied the cannon. The orders were given, the two were given a set of binoculars to observe the target set at approximately ten miles off to the south. The assistant did some quick math down by the weapon, figuring in wind speed and air density. 

     The assistant adjusted the shot with a wheel built into the base of the mounting. The order was given to clear the area, and the coils began to hum. The Forgemaster gave the Baron a button connected to a wire that went to the cannon. “I thought to give you the honors, your Excellency.” 

     Lucas pressed it and a colossal boom sounded, filling the clearing with a cloud of dust. Lucas and Michéle watched as five seconds, ten seconds, thirteen seconds, the target was a large brick building that had been abandoned many years back, was demolished. With wide eyes the two watched as the dust cleared, the building was leveled. 

     “I have questions.” Lucas said, awe in his voice. “What are the applications this can be used in?”

     “Well this design was meant to be mounted on a ship, though it could be easily mounted on a swivel and be built into the walls of fortifications.” The Forgemaster started.

     “Our ships would be ripped to pieces from the recoil of that thing.” Michéle said. 

     “Lucky for you, I have a few designs for that!” The Forgemaster smiled mischievously. 

     “You knew about that issue when you started this didn’t you?” Lucas asked, looking over to the Gnome, who was tinkering with their heavy brass goggles. One of the lenses fell out.

     “The mounting is the issue, it needs a superstructure to dampen the recoil. The ship also needs to sit lower in the water to keep the forces from changing the direction of the ship if multiple fired simultaneously. So yes, I had one of my shipwrights design it. A metal ship, not a wooden one, heavily armored so that any cannons fired at it wouldn’t so much as dent it. Unless this design was used against us, then it might do some damage.” The Master stated, a sense of foreboding heavy in their voice. 

     “Is all this equipment necessary to use the weapon? This seems like a costly venture if all this is needed, benefits aside, it might be prohibitive.” Lucas said, doing calculations in his head as he mentally priced out the equipment, pointing over to the coils.

     “No, the cannon can be fired easier than a traditional set. The metal composition dissipates heat better, less wait time to be fired. The action needed to fire the shells are all internal, it needs no light to fire. The coils here are for safety measures, it's strictly to clear the area in the event the cannon fails.” Michéle whipped his head to the Gnome, a grin on his face.

     “I’m assuming the quality checks for the exploding cannons have been worked out?” The Forgemaster nodded, “So you tell me we can fortify our cities with these with minimal training to our existing military? You tell me that new ships are needed to mount them.” 

     Michéle turned to Lucas, excitement in his voice. “A factor of four in distance, a potentially limitless battery of artillery at a distance that keeps our soldiers out of active combat. We cannot pass this opportunity.”

     “I agree,” Addressing Khamere, Lucas continued “How long would it take you to build a test ship for this?” 

     “Approximately five months, I have enough manufacturing capabilities to accomplish that. Though…” 

     Lucas sensing where this was going, “We can discuss expansion and payments after we have seen the ship in action. However, I want two hundred of these cannons commissioned for the walls of the city. I’ll broker a deal on your behalf with the Merchants Guild for access to the rest of metal workers in the city. I’ll also have to speak with Huron for additional materials and capabilities in the burgeoning manufacturing facilities.” 

     “Wonderful!” The Forgemaster exclaimed, “We can discuss the financials later, I’d like to show you two the various mounting and swivel designs though. I’d like some actual military input on their design and placement. Potentially we could talk about reinforcement for the shielding around them as well.”

     The group wandered off continuing their conversation as they walked back to the City. 

***

     Lucas and Khamere sat at the desk situated at the back of the study. A butler behind the door promptly latched the door shut and strode over to close the curtains over the stained glass window behind Lucas. He swiftly set down two glasses and poured a dark liquor into the two.

     “Lucas, why bar the door?” Khamere asked nervously.

     “I do not want to be overheard, nor do I want to be interrupted. We have some business to discuss, Forgemaster.” Lucas said as he slid into his high backed chair. Motioning for Khamere to sit as well. 

     “For starters, I know full well that your Forgehouse does not have the manufacturing capabilities I need it to. A slight aside into politics my friend. The situation in the west has not been getting better. Huron has had to reinforce their garrison stationed in the Lamia outpost. Tensions rise as the days draw out, the outpost on the verge of riot day after day. The Caliphate has also sent more troops to the borders.” He took a long drink from the glass. 

     “I think I see where this is going.” Khamere said, placing their hand around the glass, but not drinking. 

     “I don’t think you do yet. The Caliphate has also sent me a message that a delegation is on their way to discuss the events of the dispute in person. I shouldn’t have to tell you how this looks to the other Cities in the Federation. They sent a delegation to me, not Huron. That being said, unless this meeting goes well, I fear war is inevitable.” He steepled his fingers together looking at nothing in particular. 

     “I see, Mhuzelt will certainly see this as a power grab on your part. I don’t think the Dwarves are going to care, barring any unforeseen factors. Huron will be seen as Glaion’s lesser in this instance.” Khamere responded. 

     “You're getting closer to it.” He drained the rest of his glass, the butler refilling it for him. “This makes Glaion the main target in a coming war. Huron would be the first to fall in an all out assault, they still haven't fully recovered from the siege laid on them in the last war. Their military is not as trained as it once was, while they outnumber the Caliphate. Well, that remains to be seen.” 

     “What does this have to do with business yet?” Khamere spoke, confused as to where this was going. 

     “I need to reinforce Huron as much as I can, potentially annex it if I need to. For the safety of my people.” He breathed out heavily. 

     “You can’t be serious? Are you trying for the empire game?” Shock evident in Khamere’s voice. 

     “Not intentionally, while the Huronians are my allies, I need to look after the welfare of my country. If they are going to need to lean on me, I might not have a choice. I will not let my people suffer in this, I will not see the decades of hard fought battles undone by having the enemy at the gates of this city.” Lucas said solemnly. 

     Khamere was quiet for some time, thinking. “I should suspect my new inventions are going to play part in this?”

     “You have one month to design and build this ship you have in mind.” Lucas said. 

     “A single month?!” The glass shattered in their hand as Khamere squeezed on it. Lucas only watched as the butler dabbed at the blood on Khamere’s hand. “How do you expect me to do that? The amount of resources I’ll need to do so…”

     “Pick three other companies that you wish to draw on, and you’ll have it.” The words struck like a bell in Khamere’s head. Swinging their head back to Lucas. 

     “You never interfere with business like this, you have always said that the economy should do as it pleases.”

     “So you see why I want this a private conversation.” He said under his breath. “Pick three, I’ll also be bringing in a few others to discuss some other aspects as well once you have.”

     “Now?” Khamere asked, feeling rushed while dozens of options swam through their thought. 

     Lucas only continued looking at Khamere, waiting. The Forgemaster thought about the options in the city, outside of it and even inside the Caliphate. Coming to several conclusions at the same time, as well as a few other benefits that could be reaped. “Alexdre Missri, Coleuet and Company, as well as The Wayfares Guild.” 

     “Explain.” He said with a wave of his hand. He heard the scratching of pen on paper as Khamere spoke. Blaise jotting down the information on his Master’s behalf.

     “Well, Missri is a renowned metal working company stationed out in Split rock. They have already been working with me on the Ironclad designs. They would already have the manufacturing capability to make the cannons en masse.” Khamere finally took a drink from a new glass placed in front of them. The dark liquor turned out to be a nice whiskey being made out of the fields in Port De Renard. 

     “Coleuet and Company has the ship building expertise I need to expedite the venture. Strictly speaking, they would be the only ones able to pull that off with my help. As for the Wayfarers, sheerly for the utility of them. Instantaneous material acquisition. Prototype maneuverability, able to passage the people I need instantly.” 

     Lucas pressed his brow together between his fingers, working something out in his head. “So you want a dedicated God’s Eye.” 

     “In a sense, yes.” Khamere said. 

     “Fine, I may have a lead on getting that done.”

     “Blaise, can you bring in the Merchants Guild Master?” Lucas said pleasantly. 

     “Of course, your Excellency.” Blaise responded with a bow.

     Khamere’s eyes darted to the door, but the thing was already closing. Turning back to Lucas they asked. “Why?” 

     “We need to talk expenses. We need to discuss payments, and production timelines.” Lucas responded absently. 

     “You really are looking at war aren't you?”

     “I’m hoping to avoid it. However, this weapon you have shown me, has made up my mind. I cannot allow this information to pass into anyone's hands yet except mine. I want to be at the forefront of progress, and I want to be able to protect my city with all available advantages. A technological superior force like that is something I cannot pass up.” Lucas explained, jotting down a few notes in a small book. 

     “You sure don’t seem like you are.” Khamere commented.

     “A diplomatic approach is always preferred. However, what is better, to be a farmer in a war, or a warrior in a garden?” He peered over to Khamere, waiting for the inevitable.

     “But, these are such large acquisitions. You are definitely going to be looking like you are preparing for war!” Khamere said exasperated.

     “Huron is already gearing up whatever it can for war. Huron is the border between the Caliphate and the Federation. I have good information that their manufacturing is entirely tied up in production to defend the city again. It has already sent requests to both Mhuzelt and Glaion for agricultural support. The Four kings have yet been contacted, yet here they are, two out of the four in my country at the moment. I need not hide anything explicitly, Huron is making more noise. I can prepare my city and countrymen under the guise of Huron’s actions.” Lucas responded. 

     “As a side note, Khamere.” He got the gnome's attention with a sharp tap on his book. “Everything that is talked about here in this room, stays here until it has been given the greenlight by me.” 

     “Got it… matters of national security.” Khamere responded with a mock sense of loyalty. 

     “You’re failing to see the benefit here, Unlimited resources, full State support, whatever you need. Any research material you want or need found, you only need but ask for it.” Lucas told the gnome.

     “You know, I’ve never seen you like this before. You always struck me as the excited academic, always excited to see what I have been working on. The wine snob and businessman, but this…”  Khamere motioned with a wave of the hand in Lucas’ direction. 

     “While I may claim the title of Baron, I am King of Galus. My Father before me gave me the right by birth, I was raised to be what Galus needed from me. I do what is needed for the safety of the country. So if I must break my personal codes on nonintervention in the economy, a few deceptive tactics with my allies, then so be it.” 

     There was a soft knock at the door, Lucas giving the affirmative to enter. Blaise walked through and bowed low to Zyrtie as he walked through the door. “Your guest, you’re excellency.”

     “Sit with us, Zyrtie.” Lucas motioned to the other empty chair. 

     “HA!” The eastern man laughed, deep and gravely. “Never thought I’d see the day that the Forgemaster themself would join us in the shadowy deals made in this room!”

     “I would hardly call them shadowy.” Lucas huffed, crossing his arms. “I would say it is mutually beneficial to the King and Country.”

     “And immensely profitable for me and my associates.” Zyrtie motioned for a glass of the dark liquor to be poured for him. Blaise with a strange ability for premonition already had a glass in hand and ready for him. “I never get used to him doing that.”

     “He is a very good butler.” Lucas said, sipping on his own drink. “Now let's cut brass taxes. Zyrtie, I do not want any of your associates involved with this information. Not a single one of them, they need only carry out their tasks, and not ask questions.” 

     The grizzled old merchant set his drink down with a thunk. A serious tone entered his jovial voice. “What? You have never asked this before, why the need for all the smoke and dagger?”

     “Khamere, would you kindly explain your newest design?” He said motioning to the Gnome.

     “I, um.” The Merchant Guild Master turned to them, a quizzical brow raised. “It’s a compound of designs, weapons of far greater reach and punch than anything on the market or present military.”

     “I would like to hear more, I have a few ventures in the military complex of this side of the continent.” Zyrtie said, placing his head in his hand. 

     So, there the Gnome described the weapon. It’s range, power, how it worked. The rune structures involved, the extraordinarily small amount of magic needed to fire it. The amounts of material involved. They told the Merchant the partners slated to be involved, the plans involved with the ships and the potential to extend past the naval components. 

     “My my my, Bhal be praised.” The stunned expression spoke volumes on his face. 

     “Please keep your faith to yourself. Not in this city.” Lucas said between sips of his drink. 

     “Yes yes,” Zyrtie answered with a dismissive wave of the hand. “What are you proposing, I am interested in funding this. The return on this would be astronomical.” 

     “But, you are from Zybtine, you know full well what this is for?” Khamere asked. 

     “The Caliphate holds no loyalty in my heart. I am uninterested in the welfare of my homeland, I seek to expand my ventures. This,” He gestured to the Gnome “Is an interesting opportunity.”

     “However, I know that the coffers for the state will be sucked dry on an armament upgrade like this. A full retrofit, training, manufacturing aspects involved. So you wish to discuss payment and… what?” He finished with a look back at Lucas. 

     “I am offering you two a joint venture. State funded, protection from a monopoly breakup for a certain time. I want you two to discuss how to set up a manufacturing facility capable of supplying the Federation with this.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching out. 

     “A single factory? Not possible, too noticeable. Several dozen spread across the local cities? Sure, it’s possible.” Zyrtie said. 

     “I know what would be needed, I can train the workers to do so, or my assistants can. I know the amount of raw material needed. The methods involved, efficient, safe for the workers.” Khamere started.

     “The economic boom this is going to cause. So you wish to start out-producing the enemy before the war has even started? Clever, a good tactic. A workforce that is knowledgeable in the manufacturing of this weapon would mean cheap upkeep.” He turned back to Lucas, “You think far in advance too much. I don’t like that, you out-competed my vineyard as well. Rat.” 

     Lucas laughed, “This isn’t my first time doing this.” 

     Khamere bolted upright, wide eyed. “The pipeworks? The new textile mills? The farmers being given access to better tech? You mean to tell me that this new construction for the market district is also your doing?”  

     “The farmers did that on their own. It's just good business to increase their yields like that. I will admit I do buy a large surplus as a hedge against potential issues.” He added. 

     “As for the steam engines and your little rune etched gravity pumps. I’ll admit, many of the companies that bought your patent to build them are mine. Lucas made a very beneficial subsidy for me to do so, without it, I had no need to be in the utility business.” Zyrtie said. 

     “Wait, I thought you…” 

     “Didn’t play with the market? I TRY not to, but if it’s something I know will benefit the city. Sometimes the local business needs a little incentive to do so. I am more than happy to make it happen.” Lucas answered the unfinished question. The inquiry plain as day on the Master’s face.

     “So you wish to discuss how to pay for this?” Zyrtie said. 

     “I can front the cost to build the first round of ships and armament for the city. It’s what's needed for the rest of the military that needs help. Besides, I could always force you to help.” He laughed. 

     Zyrtie said with an equal amount of mirth and edge, “And I could sell this information before you could catch me.” 

     “True. Though I’d still get what I want in the end.” Lucas smiled.

     “Do you two always threaten each other like this?” Khamere asked. 

     “Only as a reminder,” Zyrtie said. “So you want me to start up a few factories that make your weapons and supply you exclusively. Very well, let's talk about the taxes again.”

     “Amnesty for the next year, your profit doubled since last year.” Lucas promptly responded. 

     “Make it two and I’ll even hide my involvement in these new companies.” Zyrtie said between a sip of his drink. “I’d also like increased access to the Portal nexus for shipping.” 

     “How much of an increase? I cannot force the Wayfarers to give you preferential treatment without it being noticed.” Lucas warned.

     “Ten percent.” He added quickly. 

     “Seven.” He countered.

     “Nine,”

     “Fine. You have it.” Lucas sighed. 

     “A difference of a single percent? What difference does it make?” Khamere asked, starting to think they were out of their depth here. They were an inventor afterall not a true business tycoon. Only that they consistently made things that got people's interest. 

     “Several zeros on the end of a ledger.” Zyrtie smirked. 

     Khamere’s mouth dropped. Shaking their head they continued their conversation. “To fulfill what you want, Lucas, I’d need at least seven factories, approximately a hundred craftsmen per site, and several hundred workers beyond that. I could output about a hundred weapons a week, without breaking a sweat.”

     “We’ll talk about their salaries later, but that is doable. I am more interested in what you want in the venture. What do you want for your cut? Lucas is more than happy to have a higher employment rate, more tax revenue, and a fatter economy to boot along with this bolstered military.” The merchant asked. 

     “I want access to your manufacturing techniques. Specifically metallurgy, and the rights to rune structures you have with your artificers.” Khamere said, seeking a brave tone in their voice. Hoping that their confidence would sound good enough. 

     “Hmm,” He scratched his chin. “What amount of royalties?” 

     “One gold piece per unit.” Khamere said.

     “No, too costly. Let's say six silver pieces per unit. Or would you just prefer a percentage. Easier math for the book keeper.” Zyrtie countered. 

     “Can I ask what your net profit is before I say?” Khamere sweated the question. 

     “For the ventures I use your brand of magicks in, I’d say about six hundred thousand in gross income.” The merchant said, leaning back in his chair. “One fourth of a percent.”

     “One percent.” Khamere was stunned, they hadn’t heard numbers that large in anything except national levels. 

     “Half a percent.” Lucas watched the exchange with an interested smile.

     “I am an inventor, I do not wish to directly compete with you Zyrtie. I want to continue with whatever gets my interest, not market share. Three fourths a percent.” Khamere said, getting irritated. They wanted to contact the others and get the most difficult challenge of the ship built first, picking out which of their assistants would be sent to the factories. 

     There was a long pause before the merchant spoke again. “I know, but I still need to be aware of the cost of doing business. A static percentage means larger numbers the more of your patents I use, in addition to the amount of profit I make off this. Very well, your terms are acceptable. I will get you in contact with my manufacturers for your other request.”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.15, Yvet

     The night bit through the thin jacket he wore. It wasn’t much, moth eaten, threadbare, didn’t offer much. He had better options, Ilgor even offered him her cloak. He refused, he still needed to blend in. The new clothing Caleb was teaching the clan to make was too noticeable. It reeked of foreign design. 

     The tall oaks along the path being the only trees left that hadn’t let go of their leaves. The bones of the trees letting the moonlight guide his path, he made sure his knives and small training crossbow was cocked and ready to go. He had to laugh at the thing, it was meant for a child, but it worked for the goblins pretty well. 

     You just had to know where to shoot, try not to take bigger game. Needed multiple shots for them. He wandered on the edges of the path south to Willowbrook, even late at night like this, there were still people traveling between the cities. He didn’t want to be spotted, the humans made too much noise when they saw the goblins. He didn’t want them to get the attention of the Giant Elk around now, they were hungry this time of year. 

     The Mayor of Willowbrook had added streetlights to the main road up to the city proper. Yvet noted that they didn’t used to be here last season, they cast a pleasant glow in the night. He felt a little easier now, his deep hood cast a darker shadow, hiding his ears even better. These lights were nice, worked to his advantage. 

     “Ilgor wanted me to get some information, maybe set up a supply chain for Caleb. She wants a steadier stream of material for him. The guys might be able to help with that.” He mumbled to himself as he stepped into a side ally. The old board that covered the hole in the wall was still there. 

     The Foxes had painted their sigil on the board, lifting it oddly you could separate the latch they put on it. Otherwise it had to be opened from the inside. The empty building was quiet, he heard the lethargic howl of the Giant Elk patrolling the forest just outside the city. “Creepy things” He thought to himself. 

     Wandering deeper into the building, its rotten beams creaking in the shifting temperature. The cobwebs were thicker than last time, they didn’t move hideouts did they? The candles they set out in the stone alcove were out too, they must have moved. 

     He was heading his way back out to the street when he heard a group of men talking quietly. Rounding the corner of the building, the group was louder now. Looking around the empty warehouse district of the city, he noticed the light coming out of a poorly concealed window on the second story of a building a few hundred feet away. 

     Making his way toward it, he smiled tossing the dice bag in his hand. He had been wanting to get away and gamble with his friends for a few weeks now. Catch up on the gossip of the city, he had found the Foxes while scouting the edge of the clan's territory a few years back. Up until Ilgor told the raiders she snuck into the city alot, he had kept it a secret from everyone. 

     He thought he was odd for it, enjoying the company of other people beyond the clan. What he really feared was the wrath of the Chief if he was caught doing this. These days though, he didn’t care, he went on enough scouting with Ilgor in the City, that he knew she would protect him from Yorm if it came to that point. 

     He scampered his way up the wall and hung onto the railing just outside the window. Listening, he wanted to make sure it was them first. He ducked into the shadow of the building, keeping to the edges where the contrast was bigger. He finally heard a familiar voice, grinning as he slid through the window. 

     “For fucks sake!” Peter yelped as Yvet nearly knocked him over. “You son of a… Goblin! It’s been a while, where have you been?” 

     The rest of the group caught by the surprise swiftly hid their knives, coming over to greet their old friend. They spoke for a while, exchanging stories of their exploits. The camaraderie was a pleasant feeling in the air as Yvet sat and enjoyed the gambling den. The thieves asked about the clan, and how everyone was doing. There was a round of applause when Yvet told them about Ilgor becoming the Priestess to the village, how she was teaching the rest of the clan a bunch of new skills. 

     “So when are you going to be a thing with her? Haven’t you been talking about her for years now? So now’s your time now that she’s a big shot in the clan!” Peter punched his arm, giving him shit.

     “I haven't told her that, and it’s not like it’s anything urgent, there is always time.” Yvet said, shoving him off. 

     “No time like the present.” Another one of the Foxes said, rolling snake eyes. “Shit.” He tossed a small bag to another thief. 

     “Maybe, what's going on in the world?” Yvet said, changing the subject while rolling his dice. 

     “Something going off in the east. Some border dispute between the Huronian fucks and the Bhal assholes.” Peter said, rolling his next, six and four, a loss. Yvet didn’t tell them, he wouldn’t. The Foxes, despite being thieves, grew up in Port De Renard, where the war almost came to Galus soil. They didn’t much like those that worshiped the Conqueror. 

     “Besides, the Mayor has redoubled his efforts to dredge the delta again. Hear from a few good sources that there are shiny things in that muck. He’s still hell bent on finding that artifact.” He finished, throwing the dice too hard. They clattered somewhere off in the shadowed corner of the room. 

     “He’s still not off that? He’s been at this for years now, when is he giving up?” Another one of the Foxes said. 

     “Don’t know,” Peter said, smacking his head on a low beam. Rubbing his head, he walked back to the group cussing a storm.

     “I got a request guys,” The group quieted, listening. “There is another human that set up shop in our territory.” Yvet started.

     “Need him gone?” Peter asked.

     “No no, we need him better supplied. He’s been a great friend to us, he’s the one I think that’s teachin Illy all this stuff. Can you guys help us out?” Yvet asked.

     “How much do ya want? There are tons of shops that have bad locks. We can outfit a single guy for a little while.” One of the thieves asked. “We owe you one after getting us out of that guard house. We’ll let the Foxes in Port De Renard know too.”

     He explained what Caleb wanted, the nodding heads around him got him his answer. ‘That’ll make her happy.’ He smiled with that thought. 

     “You said there was a bunch of shiny things in that muck.” Yvet asked again. 

     “Yep, you should go now, not many looters out there tonight. Easier to not be noticed with your… handicap.” Peter laughed out.

     Yvet got up, leaving a small bag of coins for the group. Smacking Peter on the back of his head, laughing as he did so. Peter only responded back with a chorus of chuckles from the group. “See ya, lover boy. Go find a present for your girlfriend.”

     He gave them the finger before sliding back out of the window. Making his way down to the dredge piles along the delta. The stench was ghastly, crinkling his nose, trying to keep his stomach down. He used a shaded lantern to search the pile. 

     Using the low whistle the looters had come up with, he heard a few whistles back to him. They were farther off, they had come up with it to keep the guard from hearing. They used it to signal who was around, any single whistle was just an announcement they were there. Two slow whistles means they found something. Two fast whistles means leave. He was safe to search his chosen area. 

     After a few hours of looking through the piles, he had found a few things he wasn’t expecting. One was a pendent with the symbol of his clan, he wondered how that had gotten all the way down here. Maybe there was a group that had lost it a long time ago crossing the river. Either was, it was heavy, untarnished by its time in the muck and water. 

     The bright silvery chain caught his eye first, the symbol popping out the grime was the real treat. He had to keep himself from whistling out of habit, he didn’t want anyone overhearing. He wanted to see if there were more of them. While he never found another, he did see something that he didn’t know how anyone missed.

     A bright blue stone, it stood out to him. Like it was more real than the other things around it, it reminded him of a clear blue sky. When he dropped it in his pouch, he could still see it. The pouch was as if it wasn’t there according to the stone, plain as day. “Weird, must be something magic. Ilgor would probably like it. I’ll give that chain to Cori, she lost hers a couple seasons back.”

     The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon over the southern seas. Yvet, washed the grime and slop off him up river as he walked his way back to the clan.