They were running out of time to secure entrance to the “private auction.” With only a couple of days left before the event the small group focused everything on continuing to build their background as a foreign slaver with specialty ‘products.’ This found them in the early morning at a scribe that the Whisperbroker had provided the name of.

  Xavier stood in the cramped and dimly lit room above the merchant’s shop. The scent of aging parchment, fresh ink, oiled leather and lap oil hung thick in the air. Though heady the aroma was much more pleasant than the offending scents that filled the outside air. In contrast to Xavier’s apparent calm, Lianna paced anxiously back and forth by the narrow window, her gaze frequently going to those traversing the street below and watching for guards of Arenvalis or any sign of the feared Redmaw Reavers. Ella, on the other hand, stood closer to the pair of scribes hunched over their desks. Her eyes traced the pattern of their quills as they furiously scratched out the requested documents on the parchment. Xavier took a deep breath to calm the heavy beat of his heart, a now familiar cadence of tension mixed with resolve.

  One of the scribes, a talented forger by the name of Murell lifted his head. His wirey form was accented by wispy grey hair. A thick pair of glasses rested on his hawklike nose which he pushed up with a single finger while tapping a set of documents with ink stained digits.

  “These will hold up to the most rigorous scrutiny,” he said with confidence. Candlelight glimmered in his eyes as he caught Xavier’s, “But do not linger too long under the gaze of Halestorm or his minions. Even the best forgeries can be unraveled by them.”

  Xavier nodded and slipped a small pouch of gold onto the table near the scribe. He had to sell several of his gems to continue funding their cover and information gathering which had provided him with a small fortune but eventually it would run out. Murell’s eyes flicked towards the pouch briefly before he made it vanish into a pocket hidden in his sleeve.

  “Remember,” Xavier warned the small man and his companion, his voice carrying an edge of threat and authority. “If anyone asks, Sihri was purchased from the fighting pits of Zhyrdan.” He had them use the name of a city in the southern desert as it would be harder to verify. “I’m presenting her as a gladiator who was purchased to serve as my personal bodyguard. That narrative is key.”

  Murell nodded with somberness. “Understood Master Vesh. You will not find anyone who can provide a better match to official paperwork. These records

  withstand scrutiny as long as you can match the proper demeanor.”

  “Demeanor won’t be the issue,” Xavier replied grimly.

  Ella stepped in and picked up the documents Murell had indicated. Glancing over them briefly she noted that they resembled the ones for her and Lianna. Handing the majority of the stack to Xavier she passed the one Sihri would need to carry to her. “We are ready then Master?”

  Xavier’s gaze shifted between the three women who were his “slaves,” their eyes met his with expressions varying between determination to thinly veiled anxiety. Nodding he turned to walk towards the stairs that led down and out of the shop. His words echoing back over his shoulder. “We are, lets go talk with the merchant.”

  Xavier shifted uneasily in the dimly lit corner booth of the Broken Banner tavern, senses hyper-aware of every creak, whisper, and flicker of movement around him. The pungent scent of ale, smoke, and unwashed bodies hung heavy, but he forced himself to remain outwardly calm. Beside him, Ella and Lianna sat rigidly, their simple slave garb was designed to leave their slave collars visible around their necks, each woman performed her role flawlessly. Sihri stood quietly nearby, eyes scanning the patrons, her fierce yet composed demeanor reinforcing Xavier's carefully crafted image.

  They'd painstakingly built their cover for day since arriving in Ironhaven, Xavier as Xanthus Vesh, a hardened mercenary from the southern reaches, known to deal exclusively in exotic slaves prized among the wealthy elite. The gambit was high-risk, but the infamous auction and the gathering at Villa Devorath offered a rare chance to infiltrate Ironhaven’s dark heart.

  “Relax,” Ella whispered through barely parted lips, noticing Xavier's tension.

  “Easier said than done,” Xavier muttered back. “We’re betting everything on this.”

  “Orick will deliver,” Lianna said with disdainful sarcasm. “At least, until he decides to sell us out.”

  Xavier managed a grim half-smile at the Iskari woman. “Hopefully, we’ve paid him enough to keep his loyalty for tonight.”

  Their conversation ceased abruptly as Orick, the nervous-eyed merchant they'd bribed handsomely with multiple valuable gems, slid into view, weaving expertly through crowded tables and chairs.

  “You’re fortunate, friend,” Orick whispered, leaning in close. “The right ears have heard. An envoy will meet you shortly. But he’ll want to inspect your... stock personally.”

  Xavier bristled his stress about the forged documents welling in his gut. “Inspect how exactly?”

  “A simple evaluation, nothing dangerous,” Orick reassured quickly. “They prefer authenticity and exclusivity. Just maintain your facade. Villa Devorath demands only the best.”

  Before Xavier could question the weaselly merchant further, Orick melted into the crowd again, leaving them waiting anxiously. Minutes dragged by like hours, filled with quiet tension and uncertainty, until finally, a cloaked figure entered the tavern, moving with authority toward them.

  The man’s cloak parted, revealing luxurious clothing and finery beneath. He scrutinized them coldly. “You’re the mercenary, Xanthus?”

  “Yes,” Xavier replied evenly, voice was able to keep his tone and demeanor confident despite his racing heart. “You've come to inspect the goods?”

  The envoy nodded curtly, turning first to Ella. “Stand.”

  Ella rose gracefully, defiant eyes meeting his without fear. The envoy circled slowly, making an approving noise. He repeated the procedure with Lianna, eyes hungry on the exotic and rarely seen Iskari, whose simmering gaze seemed only to amuse him. When he finally reached Sihri, her fierce stance drew genuine curiosity.

  "This one is a fighter?" he asked.

  “A gladiator champion,” Xavier replied smoothly. “From the pits of Zhyrdan itself.”

  “Impressive,” the envoy admitted, eyes glittering greedily. “And these?” He gestured at Ella and Lianna.

  “Exotics, strong-willed. Perfect for buyers who relish a challenge.” Came the flat response from Xavier.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The envoy produced an ornate parchment. “Your invitation to Villa Devorath. Be inconspicuous. Tonight’s guests expect utmost discretion.” With those words, he departed swiftly, leaving Xavier’s group in tense silence.

  “Discretion,” Lianna hissed bitterly after the man had departed, “easy when lives mean nothing.”

  Xavier nodded solemnly. “We start pulling at the threads tonight.”

  That evening a short carriage ride brought them swiftly through the maze-like streets of Ironhaven’s upper district. The noble villa loomed ahead, a sprawling, lavish estate perched upon a gentle rise, its marble facade illuminated softly by golden lanterns. Villa Devorath stood bathed in moonlight, a lavish compound at Ironhaven’s outskirts. Guards in polished armor scrutinized their invitation carefully, before finally allowing entry.

  Inside, the villa was a study in opulence. Noblemen and noblewomen drifted through marbled halls, the air filled with a heady blend of perfumes, hushed conversations, and carefully masked ambition. At the grand entrance of the ballroom, guards in polished ceremonial armor halted them once again inspecting their papers carefully. The tense silence lingered until the captain of the guard finally nodded, allowing them passage. It was here that the gathering overflowed with whispered conversations and muted laughter, punctuated by the occasional clink of crystal goblets.

  The extravagant ballroom was filled with Ironhaven’s, and to a lesser extent Arevalis’, nobility, each eager to conceal their darker appetites beneath a veneer of sophistication. Xavier scanned the crowd carefully, noting each potential ally or adversary, his pulse steady despite the inherent danger of their position. Xavier spotted a familiar face, a minor nobleman he’d previously charmed with tales of conquest and slave acquisition. Lord Estivar approached, a goblet in hand, his expression curious and slightly amused.

  “Master Xanthus,” he said warmly, yet with a hint of probing intrigue, “I must admit, your presence tonight surprises me.”

  Xavier smiled politely, masking his caution. “Surprises you, Lord Estivar?”

  “Yes,” Estivar chuckled softly, gesturing subtly toward Sihri. “Your name has risen quickly among the Ironhaven elite. Your gladiator, in particular, has drawn much interest.”

  Sihri remained silent, eyes fixed forward. Xavier allowed himself a carefully measured laugh. “Indeed. Swiftclaw here won twenty-seven bouts before I acquired her. A fortunate investment.”

  Estivar inclined his head thoughtfully. “Impressive. Such investments often speak louder than coin itself.”

  A slight hush fell over the gathered nobles, heads turning toward the grand entrance. Xavier’s pulse quickened subtly, recognizing the source of the sudden shift. Beside the doors stood a liveried man, his voice filled the room with a practiced mien of one long devoted to his calling. “The Lady Lythrara Veyne, Commander of the Redmaw Reavers.”

  The doors swung open smoothly, revealing Lythara framed in the doorway. Her presence was a mesmerizing blend of allure and menace. Standing taller than most, her lithe, athletic form moved with deliberate grace, each step fluid, hypnotic, and precise. Dusky gray skin shimmered faintly in the villa’s soft lighting, tinged with subtle crimson undertones and highlighted by intricate, thin, glowing red tattoos.

  Even from a distance Xavier could make out details of this entrancing woman’s face as it was strikingly angular, with high cheekbones and a sharply defined jawline that exuded a predatory beauty. Her golden eyes, that glowed faintly, were slitted like those of a predator. This was all highlighted by full, dark-red lips that curled subtly into a calculated, enigmatic smile.

  Beyond her face, long, obsidian-black hair cascaded down her back in flowing waves, streaked with faint crimson highlights that shimmered subtly, hinting at smoldering embers beneath. Graceful horns curved upward from her temples, black and polished with faint reddish veins, giving her an undeniably infernal elegance. Her attire, black leather armor accented in dark crimson, was etched with shifting, glowing runes. She was flanked by armored warriors whose insignia gleamed menacingly under the chandeliers.

  Xavier felt a strange tingling sensation beneath his shirt, emanating from his concealed Kael’Sharyn mark. His breath quickened subtly as Lythara’s gaze scanned the crowd methodically, finally settling upon him with unsettling precision. Her eyes narrowed slightly, nostrils flaring delicately, as if she’d caught a scent that both intrigued and alarmed her.

  In his mind, clear as a whispered secret, came her voice, seductive yet edged with danger. “Xavier. Your disguise is impressive, but it cannot mask what you truly are.”

  Xavier’s pulse surged, adrenaline flooding his veins, though outwardly he remained composed, maintaining his carefully crafted facade. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, a subtle gesture unnoticed by all but Lythara herself.

  Lythara’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before she continued forward, mingling effortlessly with the gathered nobility who flocked eagerly to greet her, their voices flattering and obsequious.

  Lianna leaned imperceptibly closer, voice lowered in cautious concern. “What just happened?”

  “She knows,” Xavier whispered back carefully. “But she isn’t exposing us, yet that is.”

  Ella stiffened slightly at the revelation, but her expression betrayed nothing. “We proceed carefully, then?”

  “Very carefully,” Xavier agreed softly, his gaze locked momentarily onto Lythara as she smoothly navigated the crowd, occasionally glancing back at him with a subtle, knowing expression.

  Lord Estivar noticed Xavier’s distraction. “Fascinating, isn’t she? And it seems you have already caught her attention.”

  “Indeed,” Xavier murmured carefully. “Perhaps my reputation precedes me more than I realized.”

  Estivar chuckled quietly, though his laughter lacked genuine warmth. “I’d advise caution, Master Xanthus. Lady Veyne’s attentions are as perilous as they are flattering.”

  Xavier smiled faintly, lifting his goblet slightly in acknowledgment. “Advice noted, my lord.”

  As the evening progressed, Xavier carefully maneuvered himself toward a secluded balcony overlooking the villa’s expansive gardens, leaving the women with other slaves in the group. He had scarcely leaned against the marble balustrade when Lythara’s presence materialized silently beside him. Her presence was accompanied by an almost imperceptible rise in heat that carried the soft scent of charred wood and spice.

  “You wear your deception remarkably well,” she murmured softly, eyes fixed upon the moonlit gardens below. “But deception will not fool those attuned to deeper truths.”

  “Clearly, and I suppose introductions are unnecessary,” Xavier faced her calmly, meeting her gaze directly. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t simply expose me.”

  Lythara’s eyes glinted with curiosity and quiet respect. “Exposure gains me nothing. Not yet, anyway. Besides, you carry something far more intriguing, the Kael’Sharyn. Its resonance is unmistakable, even among countless layers of disguise.”

  He drew back slightly his eyes widening. “How do you…”

  “I sense it clearly, that soul fracture is quite unmistakable to those who can feel such things.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ivarik’s influence runs deeper than mere mortal politics. His power comes from a divine pact, bound to the very soul of Arenvalis. Violent defiance strengthens his grip."

  “What exactly do you want, Lady Veyne?” Xavier asked cautiously, his tone measured but firm.

  She stepped closer, her voice dropping to an even more intimate whisper. “Freedom from chains you cannot see. Allies are rare, Xavier.”

  Xavier hesitated, understanding dawning painfully. "Then you're trapped, like them?" he gestured subtly to Ella, Lianna and Sihri stood with the other slaves.

  Lythara nodded bitterly. "Bound, yes, but my chains differ. Contracts with the devil, that if incorrectly broken, they will bind me forever, however, if destroyed carefully, perhaps freedom waits." Her eyes locked onto his. "Allies, Xavier?"

  He chose his next words carefully. "If trust grows amidst shadows."

  Her expression softened briefly. "Then we risk together. But betrayal exacts heavy costs."

  "So does trust," Xavier countered quietly, extending the start of a tenuous bridge between them.

  Their budding and delicate alliance hung in the balance when a noble approached, his suspicion was obvious by his demeanor.

  "A new companion, Lady Veyne?" he purred menacingly.

  Her response was ice-cold. "Curb your curiosity, some secrets are deadly."

  The noble retreated hastily, though he left tension lingering thickly in his wake.

  Lythara turned back, voice low and cautious. "Our enemies gather strength, Xavier. Choose carefully whom you trust."

  "Tonight, and for now, I trust you," Xavier answered firmly. She was his best path forward and if he did not extend the hand she knew enough to burn him completely.

  Lythara’s eyes met his, uncertain but resolved. "Then let our gamble begin." She extended a hand, between her delicate fingers was a small, sealed parchment. “An invitation to the auction you have been seeking. We can talk more there.”

  Xavier took the proffered item and Lythara vanished back seamlessly into the crowded room leaving him standing quietly at the balcony. His heart thudded with a quiet if not desperate hope. The delicate threads of trust woven tonight could either save him and those he sought along with this intriguing new player, or it would doom them all forever.