Chapter 25 Secrets in The Shadows
Elias moved through the marketplace with purpose. The streets bustled with the usual merchants, townsfolk, and travelers, but his mind was elsewhere. After turning in the bandit ears to the guild, there had been no immediate update on his promotion quest. The receptionist had told him it would be posted soon, but he didn't linger. The guild was just a stepping stone, one of many. Today, Elias sought something far more important.
The open-air stalls and lively chatter of the market soon gave way to the darker corners of the village. This small border town had its fair share of secrets, most of which were whispered among those who dared to tread too close to the edges of legality. As Elias ventured deeper into the shadowy alleyways, he noticed the shift—the cleaner streets faded into worn cobblestones, the vibrant market smells replaced by the musty scent of damp wood and old stone. This was where whispers of forbidden trades and under-the-table dealings could be found.
News at the Guild
Before making his way into the darker part of town, Elias had stopped by the guild to check on his promotion quest. The receptionist offered the same standard smile, though her tone was noticeably more polite now that she recognized him.
"No news on your promotion yet," she said. "The details will be finalized soon, likely within the next few days."
Elias gave a brief nod. The promotion would come in time. He had other things to deal with first.
The Darker Corners of Town
Elias found the small, run-down shop tucked between two crumbling buildings. A faded sign hung crookedly above the door, the name long since worn away by time and weather. This was the place he'd been directed to, the closest thing this village had to an underground supplier.
He pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling faintly as he stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, a thick layer of dust coating the shelves. Jars filled with various herbs, powders, and other suspicious substances lined the walls, but none of it was openly dangerous. At the counter stood a heavyset man with a graying beard and cold, calculating eyes. He looked Elias over once, his gaze lingering on the young necromancer's satchel.
"What're you looking for?" the man asked, his voice gruff and direct.
"Preservation materials and tools for fine work," Elias replied, keeping his voice low.
The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed as he gave Elias a long, assessing look. "Follow me."
The man led Elias into a back room, where the atmosphere was darker and even more oppressive. The shelves here were stocked with more specialized items—jars of embalming fluid, powders to slow decomposition, and tools meant for intricate work on bodies. Some shelves held bones and organs preserved in dark liquids.
"These will keep… certain things fresh for a while," the shopkeeper said, gesturing to the items. "And these," he pointed to an array of knives and needles, "will help if you need precision."
Elias began to select a few of the jars and tools, his focus sharp. He knew what he needed. While gathering the materials, he felt the shopkeeper's gaze lingering on him, as if trying to piece together what Elias might be planning. But the man didn't ask any questions—he likely dealt with plenty of people who preferred to keep their intentions private.
As Elias handed over a pouch of silver, the shopkeeper paused, his eyes flicking toward the door before leaning in slightly.
"You seem like the type who's looking for more than just what I got here," the shopkeeper said, lowering his voice. "If you're after rarer items, you'll want to head east, to the town of Blackridge. They got a black market there—real black market, not like this place."
Elias raised an eyebrow. Blackridge was a larger town a few days' ride from the village. If what the man said was true, it could be exactly what he needed to further his craft.
"Who do I ask for?" Elias asked.
The shopkeeper's lips curled into a small smirk. "Ask for Lysandra. She runs a lot of things there—magic, artifacts, stuff the guild would be interested in… if they knew about it."
The name rang a bell, though vaguely. Elias filed the information away. He gave a curt nod, paid for his supplies, and left the shop, the weight of the new knowledge heavy on his mind.
The Broken Blade and Lysandra
Later that evening, Elias made his way to the tavern where he had been told more clandestine information could be found. The Broken Blade, a rough, run-down establishment on the edge of the village, was the closest thing to a front for illegal dealings here. While not a full-fledged black market, it was where people looking for trouble or forbidden goods tended to gather.
The tavern's interior was dim and filled with the smell of stale ale and sweat. The crowd was rough—a mix of mercenaries, thieves, and a few individuals whose eyes flickered with something darker. Elias made his way to the bar, where a grizzled man with a thick scar across his cheek was serving drinks.
"What'll it be?" the barkeep grumbled, not even looking up from the tankard he was cleaning.
"I'm looking for Lysandra," Elias said, his voice barely above a whisper.
At the mention of her name, the barkeep's eyes snapped up, sharp and suspicious. After a long moment, he jerked his head toward the far corner of the tavern. "Upstairs. Knock twice on the door at the end."
Elias climbed the creaky stairs, each step echoing in the quiet of the upper floor. The hallway at the top was narrow, the air thick with the smell of smoke. At the end of the hall was a single door. He knocked twice, as instructed, and waited.
After a moment, the door opened to reveal a tall woman with sharp features and dark eyes that gleamed with intelligence. She was dressed simply, but the air of authority around her was unmistakable.
"You're looking for something… special?" she asked, her voice smooth but laced with caution.
Elias gave a short nod. "I've heard you can provide items that aren't easy to come by."
Lysandra's eyes flicked over him, appraising. After a moment, she stepped aside, letting him into the room. The space was sparsely furnished, with only a desk, a few shelves lined with curios, and a faint smell of incense in the air.
"You've heard correctly," she said, closing the door behind him. "But this village is small. If you're looking for real trade, real power, you'll need to make your way to Blackridge. What we do here is small-time. There's a real black market in Blackridge, and it's where you'll find things you won't see on any merchant's shelves."
Elias kept his expression neutral, though inside he felt a surge of excitement. Blackridge would be his next destination—the place where he could find the true power he sought.
"I'm interested," he said. "But for now, I need certain supplies. I deal in… necromancy."
A flicker of surprise crossed Lysandra's face, though it quickly disappeared. "That's a rare field," she said, her tone careful. "Most people would keep that kind of information close to their chest, considering the guild's stance on it."
"I'm not most people," Elias replied coolly.
Lysandra nodded slowly. "Very well. I can get you what you need for now—powders, preservation agents, tools. But if you want real power, the kind of artifacts and spells you'll need to rise above the others… you'll have to go to Blackridge."
Elias's gaze remained steady. "I'll keep that in mind."
Lysandra handed him a small leather-bound journal. "Consider this a gift. Inside, you'll find some old rituals—basic, but they'll serve you well until you can get your hands on more potent items."
Elias took the journal, running his fingers over the worn leather. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Lysandra said with a sly smile. "Consider it an investment. I'll be seeing you again. You'll find that necromancers don't last long without allies."
Elias gave her a curt nod before turning to leave. As he stepped back into the narrow hallway, the weight of what he had learned pressed down on him. Blackridge would be his next destination—the place where he could find the true power he sought. But for now, he had preparations to make, secrets to keep, and corpses to preserve.
The world was opening up for him, one dark secret at a time