Chapter 74 The Crows

  Val did not linger. After the final, thank you from the waking mother,a sound that carried the weight of a family’s reclaimed hope. He knew his own mission’s clock was still ticking. He said his goodbyes with a gentle finality, even as Joren and Laila fretted over their inability to offer any proper hospitality to their savior.

  “Please, do not concern yourselves with gestures,” Val said, cutting off their stammered apologies. “I did not do it for that. I am currently… occupied with a matter more urgent than you know. Your happiness and her recovery are all the thanks I require.”

  At that moment, the mother’s eyes clouded with pain but strikingly clear in their focus.Her throat worked, dry and fragile. “Thank… you” she managed, each word a conscious effort.

  She had been aware, trapped in her stone like body, of every sacrifice, every tear, every plea from her husband, and the desperate, muddy determination of her daughter.

  The sickness had been a cruel lens, showing her the unbreakable metal of her family’s love. To awaken now, to be able to voice her gratitude to the stranger who had turned into a key figute, felt like a final blessing in the ordeal. Val gave her a solemn nod, accepting the weight of her words, before turning to go.

  He did not head for the city’s main thoroughfares. Instead, he moved with purpose into a less savory district where the buildings leaned closer together, their signs faded, and business was conducted with fewer eyes watching. He paused in the shadow of a tavern’s overhang and gave a low, sharp whistle, pre-arranged signal.

  From a rooftop two streets over, a blur of purple and gold descended. Amilios landed beside him with the silence of a falling leaf, his regal form incongruous against the grimy cobblestones. “The family?” the bee leader asked, his voice a low hum.

  “Stable, i sould say” Val replied tersely. “Now, for the larger scale problem. There is a place in this city, a rumor my father once shared in confidence. A guild of mercenaries who operate under the banner of a crow. They are said to ask no questions of purpose, only of payment. The danger of the task dictates the price.”

  Amilios’s multifaceted eyes gleamed. “Thats suspicious considering they operate that loosely”

  “Precisely,” Val nodded. “My father believed they were not just tolerated by the royal apparatus, but were in fact a covert arm of it. In a way, it was a way to monitor and manipulate the desires of the wealthy and the noble.

  A fake rebellion would be controlled by the throne itself. I never had cause to test the truth of it, and I never wanted to. Tangling with such a web is…quite the danger, for you and all you care for. But today, I need a messenger that can bypass every wall and guard between here and the king’s ear. They are the only ones with a plausible chance.”

  “Its like asking guardiny dog for its master” Amilios acknowledged. “Lead on.”

  Finding the Crows was, as Val’s father had implied, not a matter of searching, but of knowing where to stand. In a mercantile district that specialized in “discreet services,” one building had a constant, low traffic of individuals who moved with the focused intent of predators.

  They were not the loud, brash sell swords of tavern tales,these men and women had cold eyes and moved with an economy of motion that repeated professional violence. Above a heavy oaken door, a small, unassuming iron sigil was etched. A single crow in flight.

  Val took a steadying breath. “Stay aloft. Watch. If I do not emerge, or if trouble spills out, you are the message. Get it to Moon by any means.”

  Amilios gave a slight dip of his head, then launched back into the sky, vanishing from casual sight.

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  Pushing the door open, Val entered a space that resembled a modest trading office more than a den of cutthroats. It was clean, orderly, and quiet. A polished counter ran along one wall, behind which stood a man with a pleasant, utterly forgettable face and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Dear customer,” the receptionist said, his voice a smooth, neutral baritone. “What can the Crows help you with today?”

  Val met his gaze directly. “I need to speak to your management. I have a job for the Crows themselves.”

  The receptionist’s smile remained, but a new layer of assessment flickered in his gaze. “In that regard, I am authorized to assist you. However, I must caution, direct commissioning incurs a significant premium.”

  “That’s fine,” Val replied, his tone implying a boredom with financial concerns.

  “Excellent. Please, come through.” The man opened a discrete door behind the counter. Val followed him into a dimly lit back office. The room was spartan: a desk, two chairs, a locked cabinet. The air smelled of oiled leather and old paper. The receptionist took the seat behind the desk, gesturing for Val to sit. The shift from clerk to principal was seamless.

  “Now,” the man said, his pleasantry now edged with a razor’s sharpness, “what is the nature of the employment?”

  Val leaned forward slightly, keeping his posture relaxed, his hands visible on the arms of the chair. “I require a message to be delivered. To the nobility.”

  The receptionist’s smile vanished. The room’s temperature seemed to drop several degrees. “Is there a specific member of the royalty you wish to be… removed?” The question hung in the air, a deadly trap. Admit to regicidal intent here, and you will not leave, Val thought. This was the first test, the proof of their alleged royal leash.

  “No,” Val said, allowing a hint of distaste to color his voice. “Nothing so gruesome. I merely need a written message to reach the king’s hand. Discreetly and urgently.”

  The smile returned, thinner now, more transactional. “I see. Even a non violent commission of that nature carries extreme risk. Penetrating the inner sanctum, evading the Royal Knights, the Spymaster’s web… to place a paper in the king’s private quarters requires resources and entails consequences far beyond a simple courier run. The cost will be enormous. Is that still acceptable, customer?”

  Val looked at the man, this smiling snake in a cheap office. He thought of Amilios outside, a powerfull besst who could likely fly directly to a palace window. But that would be something else and not the mission . This way was murkier and safer, if it worked. “The cost is not an issue,” Val stated. “But speed is. It must be done as fast as humanly possible.”

  “As fast as possible is a separate service tier,” the receptionist said, his eyes glinting with avarice. “It requires prioritizing your commission over others, utilizing our fastest, most… exposed assets. That will require extra funds.”

  Val felt a surge of irritation. This man was a vulture, picking at the carcass of urgency. Yet, the very greed was reassuring. It felt mercenary, not ideological. “Money is not an issue,” Val repeated, his voice firm. “How fast?”

  “For the appropriate sum, we can have a runner on the road within the hour. The message would be in the capital by tomorrow night. Placement… depends on the palace’s rhythm. Within 2 days, guaranteed.”

  Two days. The king’s birthday banquet, on the edge of the window. It would have to do.

  “Acceptable,” Val said. He produced a sealed letter from his inner coat. It contained the carefully phrased warning, written in a generic hand on untraceable paper. He also placed a heavy purse on the desk, one that made a deeply satisfying thud. “Half now. The other half upon confirmation, that the message has been delivered into the king’s private chambers, not just the palace. You will provide proof.”

  The receptionist weighed the purse, then nodded. He produced a contract from a drawer . A simple, terrifying document that outlined the service, the penalty for failure (none, save reputational loss for the Crows), and the exorbitant fee. Val signed with a false name. The receptionist took the letter, his fingers careful not to break the seal.

  “The Crows fly at your command, customer,” he said, the professional smile back in full force. “You may await news at the inn two streets east, ‘The Gilded Pinion.’ A contact will find you.”

  Val stood, nodded once, and left without another word. The cool air of the alley felt cleansing after the closeted greed of the office.

  On the roof, Amilios coalesced from the shadows. “Well?”

  “The deal is done. The message was sent, for a great amount but its not obstacles”Val said, mounting Ovin. “We wait at an inn. The turn now is in their hands, and in the king’s.”

  As they moved away, Amilios glanced back at the unassuming building. “Do you trust them?”

  “I trust their greed,” Val replied, guiding Ovin through the crooked street. “And I trust that you saw every face that entered and left. If the message fails, we will at least know who to… discuss it with.”

  He had thrown a stone into a deep, dark pond. Now he had to wait to see if the ripples would reach the distant shore, or if something from the depths would swallow it whole