The Emberdrift Hearth was unusually quiet as it woke. Outside, the usual haze of early morning clung to the windows of Ironhaven, a fog tinted with not just soot but the bite of smelted ore and iron. Within their private room, the group remained wordless as they each went about their own tasks. It was not tension that caused the silence but focus. It had been several days since the forced registration. Several days of watching, listening and subtly scouring Ironhaven’s back alleys for information to piece together its rhythms.

  Xavier sat at the small table in the corner that served as a desk. He was pouring over hand sketched maps of the city sections and districts, nots on patrol patterns and rumors that the more sensitive ears of the Animari had picked up. The information slowly was coming together and kept pointing to two specific names, a noble by the name of Ivarik Tharn and something known as the Shadow Court. Every mark drawn on the maps corresponded to some detail in their notes, and each carried a weight. Though faint each carried the hope of finding more Animari captives and a way to break the Shadow Court’s control.

  He had actually earned several new skills and ranks in them throughout the work. Espionage and persuasion were both at rank 4 now in his skill tab.

  Lianna sat nearby, she methodically sharpened her blades. Her eyes were not on the others but her ear’s twitched regularly indicating how alert she remained. At her side was Frostclaw, his tail flicked back and forth while his golden eyes roamed over the room. His mistress had a goal and his loyalty to her remained unbroken and steadfast. Ella moved about the room with a quiet and efficient motion. Depending on the time of day she could be found handing out food retrieved from below, cleaning gear or pausing to help adjust Sihri’s bandages and apply ointment to the lash wounds that the woman still had not recovered fully from. Sihri, for her part, still had not spoken much other than to relay snippets of conversation she would overhear when she sat near the window. It was clear from her eyes that she wasn’t keeping silent out of fear of those with her, instead it was because she was still watching and absorbing this new change in her situation. Valkra, remained curled up in her new favorite spot under the window bench. She would open an eye, between gentle dozing, whenever someone shifted too quickly and caught her attention.

  Xavier finally sighed and placed both of his palms on the desk. “We need more information,” his voice was low but firm. “These names, Ivarik and Shadow Court mean nothing without something to tie them to. Without a trail to follow.” He looked over to Ella before asking softly. “You’re sure of this contact? The Whisperbroker?”

  Ella nodded. “The name was dropped several times from those who Lianna’s clues and recommendations pointed to. If it is a trap, then it is a well laid one.”

  Shoulders dropping in resignation, Xavier nodded. “Alright but we go in force just in case. Everyone stays together.” He reached into the bag he had purchased the night before and pulled out two small objects. He smirked slightly as he inspected them.

  Satisfied he tossed them towards Sihri. “Your paperwork said you were a pit fighter. You might need these today.”

  Sihri stared at the gloves in Xavier’s outstretched hand. Her ears twitched once, uncertain. The worn leather bore faint scuffs, the creases of use, from battle, from training, and from practice. Real weapons, not chains and bindings. Slowly, she reached out hesitant to touch the offered items, worried that it was all some elaborate trick.

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  Her fingers brushed the surface and then froze. “These are not shackles,” she whispered.

  “No,” Xavier replied. “They’re yours. Use them when you’re ready.”

  She took them then, pulling them to her chest as both hands curled around the gloves like they might vanish. For a long moment, Sihri didn’t speak. Then she nodded, jaw set and shoulders squaring just slightly. The weight of the past, of her previous slavery and escape, to her new capture and Xavier purchasing her hadn’t lifted, but something else had settled beside it.

  “I’ll earn them,” she said, voice low but fierce.

  Ella met Xavier’s eyes and smiled. Lianna, from her place at the window, said nothing, but her gaze lingered on Sihri a little longer than usual. And for the first time since being brought to Ironhaven in chains, Sihri stood just a bit taller.

  The group departed the inn, and their search led them through the winding streets and alleys to the lower section of Ironhaven. It was a place where the ill kept cobbled streets ended up giving way to slag-cracked stone and roughly patched walls holding up even rougher buildings.

  Ella had discovered the name of their destination yesterday morning and had spent the rest of the day trying to follow up on any information about it and the mysterious proprietor that ran it. Their destination was The Hollow Root. It turned out to be a dingy apothecary nestled between two crumbling forges. What the street saw was a shop of herbs, remedies, and obscure alchemical tinctures however it turned out that those in the know came for something deeper.

  Lianna’s eyes glimmered as she pointed to a mark confidently. She had spotted the symbol etched subtly above the lintel: a twisted vine wrapping a black flame it was a code for "no coin, only favors."

  Inside, the air was thick with bitter smoke and dried spores. Stained glass lamps cast flickering green light over rows of bottles with ingredients too unsettling to name. From behind a curtain of tattered velvet stepped the owner of the shop. He was tall and skeletal, with yellowing skin stretched tight over his face and fingers stained permanently with ink and plant sap. One eye was milky though the other burned like a coal. He didn’t smile at those who had entered his shop. There was no doubt amongst his customers that this was indeed the Whisperbroker

  “Three shadows and a bound bunny girl,” he rasped. “Curious coin for this side of the city.”

  No one bothered to correct him in his estimation. When he spoke again it was a simple question. “What do you seek?”

  Xavier stepped forward; he had been warned that money would get him nothing here. He hoped that his offering, a small vial of shimmering essence infused crystal, a rare fragment he kept back from the harvest in the crystal garden would suffice and mark his knowledge about such items. It was not meant to be a full trade, but a sign of authenticity.

  “I want names,” Xavier said. “Specifically, the ones hiding behind thrones.”

  The Whisperbroker studied them for a long time, then motioned for Xavier alone to follow him into the back. As they passed from the room he pointed to a small shelf, Xavier set the vial down and then took a seat opposite the wizened man. The conversation was tense from the outset. The man said little, but his eyes, which seemed to be burned hollow from too many secrets, never moved from where Xavier sat, the never stopped watching.

  As the air thickened in the dim, herbal haze of the Hollow Root, Xavier spoke carefully, he dropped veiled references to the ley lines, the growing unrest among the Animari, and the whispered influence of a hidden power behind Arenvalis. The Whisperbroker gave no overt reaction however it was his silence that was telling. He did not speak in denial, nor was he surprised, he just sat there, a long, calculating pause.

  Finally, the gaunt figure leaned in, ink-stained fingers steepled before him, voice little more than smoke itself. “You did not actually come here for names, you know the key ones” he rasped, “but I’ll give you three truths.” He listed them in sequence, each one like an assassins blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

  “First there is a name you do need, Tavrek Halestorm. One of the Court’s fists. Brutal. Methodical. Loyal to the fire behind the throne.” He paused a moment to let Xavier take that in.

  “Second you need to know of a private auction. It will take place in three days. The prize is an Animari with blood not seen in generations. There will be eyes there, boy. Hungry ones.”

  “And finally, this…” He let the words hang, lips curling around them like a warning passed down from the dead. “If the Court is fire, Tavrek is its smoke. Be careful, for the smoke can suffocate you before the flames even catch.” He leaned back then, gaze glinting in the low light, and the conversation was over.

  Xavier rose and left the room quietly, his mind churning with what little he had gotten from the Whisperbroker. To anyone else it likely would have made little sense, Xavier however, had more information that it tied back to and it made him worried.

  Back at the Emberdrift Hearth, the group reassembled in their rooms. The common room downstairs had grown louder and rowdier as mercenaries drank while slavers made deals behind closed doors. Upstairs, the mood was heavy.

  Sihri sat near the hearth, eyes flicking toward Xavier every few seconds. She hadn’t asked about the errand, but she was clearly calculating her own position in the room’s shifting power.

  Lianna leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, tail twitching erratically. She had heard the phrase "rare Animari" before when she was a slave in truth herself. It was something she had always heard before someone was broken.

  “They’ll flaunt her like she’s exotic meat,” she growled. “They always do.”

  Xavier met her gaze. “We’ll stop it.” He wasn’t sure how to do so but the pain in Lianna’s eyes made him more determined.

  Ella took that moment to move beside Sihri, she knelt gently and began to speak softly with her. Valkra sensing the tension in the slave padded over and rested her head on Sihri’s lap, purring softly. The gesture seemed to relax the Leporini for the first time.

  “You think he’s lying?” Sihri finally asked, not looking up though one of her ears twitched towards where Xavier sat.

  “I think,” Ella said gently, “he’s been through what you have. Just in a different way. He is bound to a path as surely as that collar would have bound you to one.”

  Sihri’s brows furrowed, the edge of defiance in her eyes warring with something far older. “But he’s human.”

  Ella tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment then it softened. “He was,” she said. “Now he is something else. Not because of what he is, but because of what he has chosen to carry.”

  Sihri finally looked up at Ella. “And that’s enough?”

  “No,” Ella said softly. “But for my master it is a start.”

  Sihri scowled slightly at the woman’s words. “Why do you call him master, it is clear he does not like slavery. You have stated yourself how the collar does not actually affect you.”

  Ella glanced back to where Xavier sat at his desk again making more notes. “Because my very being is bound to him. He is worthy of being called such even if he does not accept it.”

  That night, Ella, Lianna, and Sihri found themselves outside on the Emberdrift’s balcony. Below them, Ironhaven’s streets glowed orange with torchlight and forge fire.

  Lianna leaned over the railing, ears twitching at every scream or shout that drifted up. “It is a sickness,” she muttered. “This whole city.”

  Ella didn’t disagree. She sat on the ledge, arms folded over her knees, watching Lianna more than the street. “You held yourself together at the registration,” she said quietly returning to a discussion from earlier. “That wasn’t easy.”

  Lianna’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “I did not do it for me. Did it so he would not have to see me break.” She admitted quietly. She was still at odds with herself about how much Xavier’s opinion of her meant.

  Sihri stepped beside them, silent at first, then she joined in the conversation, “he didn’t flinch when he paid for me. Didn’t leer. Didn’t look at me like they did.”

  The three women stood together, a growing bond forming, not just from shared pain, but from quiet understanding and their unique relationship with the outsider Xavier.

  “The collar doesn’t define you,” Ella said, voice barely above a whisper.

  Lianna turned to her, then looked at Sihri. “No. But I wear it in these lands until the law breaks. It is how I can help with his mission here.”

  They remained on the balcony for a little while longer, the silence between them was companionable having lost almost all tension between them. It was not long until they heard Xavier call from inside and they all returned to the room.

  He was still by his desk but he turned to look at them as they entered. “Three days,” he said. “We have three days to find out who is on that private auction block and figure out how we are going to stop it.” He paused and tapped a single name written on a piece of paper, the name Tavrek Halestorm. “He is the key to this. If we trace him, follow the smoke so to speak, it will lead us straight to the fire we are searching for.”