Chapter 703: Thirval and the company
Rogue’s room was illuminated only by the soft light of candles arranged around the central table. Maps and docunts covered the wooden surface, along with a dagger plunged right in the center—holding a charred piece of paper that still emitted a faint wisp of magical smoke.
Rogue held the newly materialized parchnt between her fingers. Her red eyes glead in the amber light as she read the words that slowly ford on the surface. Strax’s seal burned at the bottom, gradually dissolving until the air beca still again.
She finished reading and rested her chin on her fingers, a wry smile appearing on her lips.
“If they want to talk, let them co and talk to ,” she murmured, repeating her husband’s words in a low voice. “Of course, he’s not going to make things easy.”
Behind her, the door opened with a soft click. Two figures entered: Samira, the white-haired woman with a huge sword on her back, and Bellatrix, tall, cold, and serene as a newly forged blade. They were getting used to their new life and wore clothes that everyone else wore to make it seem like they weren’t from another continent, or rather… That they weren’t Dragons.
Well, that was difficult to hide, but it was working! Fortunately.
Samira was the first to speak, in that characteristic lazy tone:
“What do you want, you annoying cat?” she asked, throwing herself carelessly into the chair next to the table. “I hope it’s not another one of those ‘subtle’ missions. My leg is still hurting from the last ‘diplomatic eting’ with the southern rchants.”
Bellatrix remained standing, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on the candle fla. She showed neither impatience nor boredom. She simply waited.
Rogue twirled the parchnt between her fingers and looked at the two.
“I received a reply from our husband.” She spoke with a half-smile, her tone mixing irony and respect. “I warned him about that organization that wanted to talk to him.”
Samira snorted. “Great. More people trying to suck up to gain ground.”
“Or to stab us in the back,” Bellatrix added dryly. “These people around here are pretty crazy.”
Rogue tilted her head, her smile widening. “Exactly. And that’s why you two are going to check them out before we allow them to talk to Strax.”
Samira groaned loudly, letting her body slump in the chair. “Oh no… again? I just got back from a three-day trip, Rogue. Three. Days. Sleeping in stables and eating stale bread!”
“And now you’ll travel a little more.” Rogue’s voice sounded sweet, almost amused. She rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. “After all, it was a request from our husband. Or are you going to tell you don’t want to do sothing for him?”
Samira straightened up imdiately, her eyes narrowed. “You know how to get to move…”
“But of course,” Rogue raised an eyebrow, victorious. “He asked us to investigate this organization before any direct contact. He said that no agreent should be made until we know who they are and what they really want.”
Samira let out a theatrical sigh, crossing her arms. “Okay, okay… if it’s his request, then I’ll go.” She stood up, still grumbling.
“Good girl.” Rogue winked and looked at Bellatrix. “And you?”
Bellatrix maintained her cold, neutral gaze. “Just tell where we should go.”
Rogue pulled out a map and opened it on the table, pointing with the tip of her dagger.
“Here.” The tal scratched a point on the map. “Thirval Port. A small coastal city, but with far too much comrcial influence for its size.” “In recent months, their profits have doubled for no apparent reason. Now, a group from there wants to ‘negotiate’ with Asgard.”
Bellatrix leaned slightly to get a better look at the map. “And their na?”
“No official records. They only call themselves the Company of the Veil.” Rogue replied, with a cynical half-smile. “Which already sounds pretentious enough to make suspicious.”
Samira scratched her chin. “Company of the Veil… never heard of them. Does that an Yennefer and Cristine didn’t find anything?”
Rogue shook her head. “No. And that’s what bothers . If even they couldn’t track where they co from, it ans this group is either extrely new… or extrely careful.”
“Or suicidal, if they’re trying to ss with Strax’s na,” Bellatrix concluded, emotionlessly.
Rogue smiled. “Exactly. That’s why I want you two there.”
Samira raised an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, do we have to do?”
“Find out who’s behind the Company.” Rogue began walking around the table, her cloak trailing lightly on the stone floor. “I want nas, connections, and intentions. If it’s a trap, deal with it. If it’s a legitimate offer…” she stopped and turned to face them “…then you send a raven before you open your mouths.”
Bellatrix simply nodded. “Understood.”
Samira sighed. “Okay, but what if they’re boring? Like… eting, contract, blah blah blah? Can I add a ‘special touch’?”
Rogue smirked. “If they’re boring, Samira, make sure they stop talking before I need to hear it.”
Bellatrix glanced at the map once more. “When do we leave?”
“Tonight.” Rogue replied without hesitation. “There’s a carriage heading south. It will stop in Thirval before dawn. You’ll take a carriage.”
“Life is hard for those who aren’t kings,” Rogue retorted, amused. Samira mumbled sothing unintelligible, but began adjusting her glove and holster at her waist. Bellatrix, in turn, simply took a step back and prepared to leave.
“One last thing,” Rogue added, looking back at the burned note. “Tell Yennefer to keep an eye on the harbor and Cristine to track any movents of theirs seeking information from Asgard. If this Company is trying to use any thod, I want to know before they even leave Thirval.”
“Understood,” Bellatrix replied imdiately.
Samira grimaced. “You trust this kind of operation too much, Rogue.”
“I already know it worked, so it doesn’t matter,” Rogue said, smiling.
…
The port of Thirval teed with life. Seagulls cried over the masts of the ships, and the sll of salt, oil, and iron mingled with the heavy smoke-filled air from the forges. Waves crashed against the wooden pillars, and the shouts of the dockworkers mingled with the rhythmic sound of hamrs echoing through the docks.
But far from the chaotic noise of the docks, a little higher up, stood the heart of the city—a gray stone fortress, adapted to be the headquarters of the Company of the Veil.
Despite the mysterious na, the place was anything but gloomy. The large iron gate was always open, and the company’s flag—a simple symbol of a blade intertwined with a feather—fluttered in the wind. The inner courtyard buzzed with activity: hunters sharpening spears, rchants trading rare furs, blacksmiths testing the gleam of newly forged swords.
The sound of hamrs was like music—the heartbeat of a place that lived on sweat, discipline, and honor.
In the center of the courtyard, Erik Haldar, the master of the Company, observed the movent with his arms crossed. He was a robust man, with a graying beard and blue eyes that seed made of lted ice. The kind of man who carried authority without needing to raise his voice.
Behind him, hanging on the inner walls, a large mural displayed the nas and coats of arms of the veteran mbers—each one hand-engraved, under the motto:
“To work with our hands, to fight with honor, to negotiate with truth.”
Erik took a deep breath of the hot air of the forge and looked at a group of young apprentices trying to lift an anvil. He chuckled softly.
“You’re pulling it wrong,” he said, his voice deep and calm. “One pushes, the other pulls. Strength is useless without rhythm.”
The boys looked at each other, adjusted their movents, and, with effort, managed to move the anvil to the right place.
“There you go,” Erik murmured. “Strength without coordination only serves to destroy.”
A man approached, wiping the sweat from his face with a soot-stained cloth. It was Thoren, the foreman of the forges—a rough-looking fellow, but with an easy smile.
“The orders for blades for the north are almost ready, master,” he said. “Thirty forged steel swords and twenty more broad-tipped spears. We should send the shipnt tomorrow.”
“Make sure the Company’s seal is clearly visible,” Erik replied, still observing the activity. “I want them to know who worked on them.”
“Consider it done,” Thoren replied, and soon the sound of hamrs resud, strong and rhythmic.
Further on, in the west wing of the fortress, the contract hall was full. Hunters ca and went, delivering furs, bones, and tusks, while scribes noted down values on long wooden tablets. Everything was transparent—the weight was asured in plain sight, the paynt made on the spot.
A woman with brown hair tied in a braid, wearing leather and a hunting apron, carefully observed a pile of contracts on the table. Her na was Lyra Venn, the head of the hunters.
She was speaking with a newly arrived group—three n covered in mud and sweat, dragging a gigantic wild boar by chains.
“Big animal, huh?” she said, giving a genuine smile. “From the Morn swamp, by the sll of it.”
One of the hunters nodded, breathless. “The very sa. It crossed the river and killed two goats before falling into our trap.”
“And it almost took Lekk’s arm with it,” another grumbled, eliciting laughter from the group.
Lyra checked the asurents and signed the paynt. “Clean work. You three get double credit on the next order.”
The n smiled, thanking her. No bribes, no tricks. Just recognition for those who did the job right.
When the hall emptied a little, Lyra looked up at Erik, who was now entering the room.
“News from the north?” she asked.
“So,” he replied, approaching the table. “It seems that city that was conquered is growing rapidly.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”
Erik remained silent for a mont. Then he shook his head. — No. But we’re missing a good opportunity. I tried to make contact but… it seems they’re very alert about everything.
Lyra sighed, “You’re always so impulsive. Let guess… You went to the information market before talking to them, right?”
Erik looked at Lyra, “How do you know that?”
Lyra let out a huge sigh and looked at Erik. “Of course they’re going to shut down, are you stupid?”
User Comments
0 comments from readers