“So you’re a traveller?” asked Alrin son of Jorath, as he regarded Lerran from his desk in a cluttered office on his property in Lo Mallago. The man was a few years older than Lerran, which attributed to his father’s, Old Man Jorath, age, and had silver flecks throughout his beard and hair. “Or a travelling merchant?”
Of course, Lerran did not look like himself. He looked like a short, podgy man, half-bald. He sat down in one of the armchairs across the desk from Alrin. He had been permitted one guard, and had brought in Paksis of course. “Both,” he said. “My name is Traz, and I hail from the east. I have a large family, and they all have resources to sell, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Alrin asked, confused.
“Do you have siblings?” Lerran questioned, decidedly not clarifying his earlier comment.
Alrin grinned and leaned back. “Fine, I’ll humour you. I have two sisters, and a few uncles. One is rather estranged, and one of my sisters couldn’t care less for me. We have lived in Lo Mallago all of our lives. Now, enough of this foolishness. What resources have you to sell?”
“What are you looking for?” Lerran asked.
“You contacted me!” Alrin replied, face flushed. Exasperated, he took a deep breath to reclaim composure. “You must be from far away, Master Traz. In Lo Mallago, lumber, labourers, and mercenaries fetch the highest prices. With a booming gold income, House Jorath seeks all of the above.”
“I can sell you weapons,” Lerran offered.
“Usual deliveries range from fifty swords or spears to a dozen sets of armour,” Alrin said. “Assuming the quality is up to our standard, we pay in gold bouillon equivalent to two hundred Grey Sea coins. You have documentation?” The businessman held out his hand for a note.
Lerran reached toward the table, surprised again by the foreign hand he controlled. “May I?” he asked, and removed a blank sheet of parchment. He quickly jotted down the details of his delivery, very similar amounts to the arms he had procured from Starath.
“When would these weapons be arriving?” Alrin asked. “And will they be moving by sea or by land?”
“Land,” Lerran said, “And they’ll be coming from Sheld, about a forty day ordeal once I contact my warehouse.”
Alrin paused, holding Lerran’s note in midair in front of him. “Traz, is this above the table with Lerran’s Family?”
Lerran glanced at Paksis, intentionally trying to act uncertain. Then he looked Alrin in the eye. “Don’t worry about that,” he told the nobleman. “I have the right to buy and sell anything on behalf of the Family.”
Alrin stared at him a moment longer, and then deposited the document on his desk. At last he spoke, “Very well, but this transaction must be kept between us, not the Public.”
“Why?” Lerran asked.
The businessman shrugged, and scratched his greying beard. “It is known that House Jorath is sworn to support the Atmos Septi. My father would not approve of this deal, but he will not know of it.”
Lerran hid his smirk. They followed the Grey Brethren. Then he shrugged. “Agreed. We can keep a secret.”
“Good,” Alrin said. He lifted a mug to drink, though he had not shared any with his guests.
“Could we see this infamous mine?”
Alrin coughed, briefly, and lowered the mug. He licked the drops from his moustache and shook his head. “Only one customer has been permitted to see it, our best merchant.”
Lerran smiled. Alrin still saw Traz sitting there, but he leaned forward in his chair and asked, “What if it was Lerran of Sheld asking?”
The son of Jorath gave him a frown, and leaned back in his chair. “Even if it was the Eternal Emperor in here, I’d still need approval from my father, and I honestly doubt it would happen. The mine is secure and people must earn our trust, not entitle themselves to it.”
“That’s no way to run business,” Lerran said, standing up. He glanced at Paksis. “Damn gold miners, so high and mighty. Let’s go.” Paksis led the way past the two guards on Alrin’s door—two were also within—and down the corridor.
“Will you honor this deal at least?” Alrin called after them.
“You’ll know in forty days!” Lerran replied, and they descended the spiral staircase to the estate foyer. The guards let them go with wide eyes and snickers, while Lerran kept up his frustration until they were well off the property. He didn’t care one bit what Alrin’s conditions were, aside from limited Lerran’s ability to learn more about the situation.
Despite that, Lerran had learned plenty. Without Alrin, the gold business would falter, and without Old Man Jorath, it would perish. With an assassin or a strike force, he would put their leaders in the ground and Borik would get his gold mine. In forty days or less.
The next day, he set out once again on the Barren Road. Sheld, and Tassina, awaited him, many days away. Paksis only chuckled when he started to complain about the brutal heat.