"If you want to get your information, it has to be now. I agreed to take on a quest with one of the new guilds," Marco said once all the black smoke had cleared. "Some newly knighted lord from one of Leeds' Grand households," he added with a smile, before putting on his cloak.
Vondell got up from his seat as well. "The Vault first, then we can go. I don't like keeping debts," he said. He would have to pass by Mira's place as well.
"It's not like I'd let you anyway," Marco replied, rubbing his hands. "We're friends, but not like that."
*
Vondell and Marco headed down to the basement—a dimly lit space with pedestals, lined along a black walkway, carrying golden embers. A wall stood at the end of the walkway, black and golden, with the image of Milakas, the god of wealth, inscribed at its center. A cloaked figure stood behind a small barred window within the walls, like a mix between a receptionist and a prisoner.
The walls were made of true obsidian— not the bark of treants, but the unbreakable glass of the Volcanic Plains. And they were covered with glowing sigils and runes, anointed by high-level blessers.
Only a monarch could bust through these walls, and that was if they had a very good understanding of arrays. Of course, Antras didn't have the means to build such a thing. The Vault was run by Mikas, the city of Merchants. A city that took their coin very seriously.
"Your tag," the receptionist said in a hoarse haggard voice. A long gnarled nose was all that stuck out of the cloak, gray and pale. The receptionist had an ancient musty smell to them, probably because they never seemed to leave the place.
Vondell presented his black tag through the bars of the booth, and the receptionist moved to accept it. Clinking and clanging followed as the chains on the receptionist's hands clattered about.
"Black?" the receptionist asked, looking up at Vondell.
Vondell nodded.
The receptionist took a gnarled knife out of their cloak, and slit their palm, before allowing the purple blood to drip on the tag. The wound healed almost instantly, as the black tag began glowing.
"Activos," the receptionist whispered, before pointing the knife at the tag.
A moment later, a golden mist began to exude from the tag.
"There is coin available in your account," the receptionist said.
Vondell relaxed at this, he had half expected Helen to be lying.
"However, the sender has recently withheld it for auditing purposes. You can expect it to be released in two days," the receptionist added, before handing the tag back.
~This is childish Helen,~ Vondell thought to himself. This was probably her retaliation for what happened earlier. Though he knew this was far from what she had in store. Helen was perhaps the second prettiest being he knew.
"That's unfortunate. I'm not sure whether I'll still be in Antras in two days," Marco said from behind him. "I have business in the Plains," he added.
Vondell scoffed at that. It was a blatant lie of course.
"What do you want?" he asked with a sigh.
"You're offering some other form of compensation?" Marco asked in fake surprise. "How noble of you, Black," he added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"You don't have any coin to take on another quest, do you?" he asked.
Vondell nodded reluctantly. He had used the last of his coin to buy gear for his last descent into the oasis. Even now, he needed coin to replenish his supplies, otherwise, he'd have to start using actual magic in his fights—something he'd rather not do.
"Okay look, I have a quest for you," Marco began. "I would've done it, but something about it doesn't add up," he said, handing over a black cylinder.
"I'm not taking on the mandate," Vondell replied blankly.
Marco raised his brow. "What mandate? This is a directive," he said. A thin smile crept up his face. "Helen offered you a mandate?" he asked, "And you... rejected it," he added, realization fraught on his face.
Vondell took the cylinder. If it wasn't a mandate, then he didn't have to fear working around the king.
"Information retrieval," he whispered, reading off the instructions. "You want me to go the plains?"
Marco was still deep in thought. "What was it about?" he asked.
Vondell ignored him. He continued reading the directive, shaking his head the further down he went. "These are very dangerous accusations," he said, turning back to look at the receptionist. "If Helen gave you this directive, it means you're the best suited for it," he whispered, before handing it back.
Marco sighed, refusing to accept the cylinder. "I'm telling you, something isn't right here," he replied, staring at it with a faraway expression. "The quest will only take a day, a day and a half if you count your trip to The Plains."
Vondell shook his head at that. "So you can't do it because something isn't right but somehow I can?"
Marco shrugged, "Your Lord Black."
Vondell thought over it for a moment. He could wait the additional two days for his coin, and maybe find Marco after he came back from The Plains. But that would be two days of doing nothing, and that was assuming the butterfly organization didn't put another hit on him.
"I'll do it," Vondell said finally. "But I need additional pay. Way more. At least close to what you'll be getting for its completion," he added. "Plus the information I asked."
"You'll do it? Seriously?" Marco asked excitedly. "You know you can't just walk in there and kill the Tigerna right? If you start a war with The Plains—"
"Calm down. I know." Vondell replied, placing the cylinder in the inner pockets of his chest plate. "I'll need the pay upfront," he added.
Marco nodded reluctantly.
"And the partner you were assigned for this quest, tell them they can take the day off and go visit their god's shrine or something. I really don't care," Vondell sighed. "Just let them know they're off the quest."
Working with someone he didn't know would be too risky, especially now that someone wanted him dead. Besides, he didn't need anyone questioning his... methods, once he got on the ground.
"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you don't get caught," Marco replied, before pulling out a coin purse. "Make do with what's in here. Should be around a hundred coins worth. I'll pay you the rest after it's done. No offense," he said, handing the purse over to Vondell.
Their eyes met for a moment, "And if you find out that what's written on the directive is true. Don't engage. Helen has her web in this, and we don't want to ruin what little leverage she might gain for Antras," he explained.
Vondell remained silent at that.
A mandate and a directive, both handed out over the span of a few days?
Something was brewing. And it smelt of blood and greed.