“Sean?” Brent asked. “You know this guy?”

  I looked the man over. Middle-aged. Thin. He had that worn, ink-stained look of someone who spent more time bent over desks than eating proper meals. I shrugged.

  “I’ve come for business,” the man said. “The sort that doesn’t concern any of you.” His eyes passed over the others as if they barely existed. Ink and ledgers were clearly more real to him than people. “The words I carry are for Sean’s ears alone.”

  All eyes shifted to me. I felt the weight of it. Brent stayed close, eyes hard, making it clear what would happen if this turned into trouble. The man waved off his concern, calm as anything, insisting it was private business. Market matters. Nothing more.

  “If he tries something,” Brent said, turning to me.

  “I’ll scream like hell,” I said with a smirk. Judging by the look of him, it would be the skinny bag of bones doing the screaming.

  Brent nodded and ushered the others inside, never quite taking his eyes off the man.

  As they all moved into Tron Cottage Calum turned back. The look he gave me was sharp, full of disdain. I let it pass. I had no interest in explaining myself to a noble, druid or not. What bothered me more was Celeste’s indifference.

  I could have called after her. Could have tried to explain. But explanations raised questions, and questions dragged people into things they never asked for. I wasn’t about to pull her into my mess.

  Doyle met them all at the door, already fussing, guiding them inside.

  I stayed where I was and turned to the man.

  “So, who are you exactly?”

  “Roy sent me.”

  I looked at him confused. “Who’s Roy?”

  He frowned and glanced down the road, then back at me. “Ah. Yes. It occurs to me that I may have the wrong Sean. Perhaps this is not the correct address for the de…”

  “Delivery?” I stepped closer before I could stop myself. “You’ve got the stuff from the blacksmith?”

  He studied my face, slow and careful. “From Roy…”

  It clicked.

  Heat crept up my neck. I scrubbed a hand over my face and let out a short breath. I’d handed over a priceless artifact to a man I barely knew, made a deal without knowing the full cost, the full value, or even his name.

  Idiot…

  I straightened. “Well. Roy, then,” I said slowly. “And you are?”

  “Sebastian. An acquaintance.”

  I took his hand, keeping my other on my sword.

  “I understand, from Roy, that you possess another catalyst,” he continued. “I examined the red cap you traded. Its blessing yield, projected output, and market valuation.” He shook his head once. “Roy found the results… unsettling.”

  I smiled. “Then you can examine the others? What will it cost?”

  Sebastian glanced down at the ledger tucked under his arm. “My services are accounted for. Roy’s records from the initial exchange cover that in full. As for the remaining balance he owes…” He paused, choosing his words. “He was obliged to call in several favours and arrange a number of supplementary trades to reconcile the difference.”

  I nodded and let the numbers settle.

  I stood there longer than I meant to, the weight of it catching up with me. Roy had followed through. Not just that. He had made sure the exchange stayed fair, even when he could have taken full advantage. I tucked the thought away. Amelia would know whether that came from law, custom, or simply the man’s own code.

  “So, when can we expect the goods?” I asked.

  “The initial shipment is scheduled to arrive tomorrow,” Sebastian said. “The remainder should follow within three days.”

  I nodded. That would work.

  “Right,” I said. “So, until then. You want to see the catalyst?”

  Sebastian inclined his head.

  “About that,” I said, falling in beside him. “I’ve got a few more. They’re in my room. Best we step inside.”

  He stopped short. The pause lingered, brief but charged. Then his expression shifted, surprise giving way to a slow, genuine smile.

  “In that case,” he said, plainly pleased, “do lead on. Catalysts are typically reserved for the nobility. They are uncommon now, burdened by permits, seals, and an excess of regulation.” He glanced back at me. “To be entrusted with them at all is considered an honour.”

  The more Sebastian spoke about the catalysts, the clearer it became how hard I had kicked the nest.

  “I am given to understand that the catalyst you entrusted to Roy had been housed within an Alchemy and Quartz for several decades,” he said as we walked.

  “Is Roy safe keeping the red one in his shop?” I asked.

  Sebastian waved a hand, unconcerned. “It has already been dispatched. Even now, it is being prepared for incorporation into a blade.” He glanced at me, eyes bright. “There is a most particular recipient in mind for that piece.”

  He said it like I should know who.

  I smiled and led him inside. I passed Doyle in the hall, gave him a quick nod, told him I was fine. No questions. He let us through.

  Sebastian paused in my room, taking it in, then sat on the edge of the bed. He reached into his pocket and laid out a neat roll of small instruments, metal glinting softly in the light.

  “Now,” he said, “the green catalyst. This is the piece you committed to Roy. Its full valuation has yet to be determined.”

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  I nodded and reached for where I had stored it, fingers closing around the weight I had hidden away.

  His eyes widened the moment he saw it. “Yes. That accounts for it.” He studied the piece closely. “Like its counterpart, this one has been resting in that shop for years.”

  I passed it over. He took it carefully and pulled a small eyeglass from his kit, adjusting it before leaning in. He turned the piece slowly between his fingers.

  “Remarkably pure,” he murmured. “Emerald lattice formation. A complete soul. No residual markings.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He looked up at me, a faint smile touching one corner of his mouth. “Expensive… Prohibitively so.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded and began to annotate his notes, quick and exact. “In combination with the red catalyst, its valuation rises to such a degree that even if Roy engaged every smith and merchant in the district, the balance would remain well beyond his reach.”

  “Right,” I said.

  He set down his pen and looked at me. “This specimen contains the soul of a juvenile green dragon.”

  I stared at him. “You’re serious?”

  A mix of excitement and unease settled in my chest. “So, will he ask for this one as payments or won’t he take it.”

  “Following the assessment of the initial exchange, he has been engaged in considerable effort to fulfil his obligations in accordance with fair trade statutes. He is already operating at his limits simply arranging the work associated with the red catalyst.”

  So that was it. Law was protecting me. “Okay,” I said. “Then I don’t need to hand it over.”

  He inclined his head. “In truth, that outcome is preferable. Roy is already under sufficient strain.”

  I hesitated, then asked, “You said he’s dispatched the red catalyst. Can’t he work it into a weapon himself?”

  “He wishes,” Sebastian said. “No. I have already entrusted the parcel to an individual who specialises in that particular craftsmanship.”

  That gave me pause. Anyone capable of that kind of work would need the right blessing, and likely the freedom to use it.

  “Can you introduce me to them?” I asked.

  Sebastian did not answer at once. He studied me, fingers resting on his notes. “I am uncertain whether I should.”

  “Will it cost me?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That is not the issue. It is the practice itself. Soul blades are now subject to strict restrictions. Years ago, any individual with the requisite blessing could undertake the work. Unfortunately, many of those individuals died in the war. In the aftermath, the Lords imposed regulation. Only registered smiths under their control are permitted to engage in it.”

  I nodded.

  “If it puts you in a bad spot,” I said, “we can leave it.”

  Sebastian exhaled slowly and glanced toward the door before speaking. “No,” he said at last. “Given that he is already engaged with the initial piece, an additional commission would not, in itself, draw notice.”

  He hesitated, fingers tightening on the edge of his ledger.

  “He will assist you,” he continued, lower now. “But only under certain conditions. What is made must remain discreet. No titles. No provenance. No discussion beyond those directly involved.”

  His eyes met mine, sharp despite the calm tone. “You will keep this to yourself. Swear it.”

  I nodded once.

  Only then did he relax, just slightly.

  “He is a local smith, goes by the name Kent,” Sebastian said. “Lives off the land. Sells his work beneath the old oak in the markets.” A pause. “As a scholar, I would welcome the opportunity to observe the process. As a businessman, I must insist we remain within the bounds of regulation.”

  The ledger closed with a soft tap.

  “That is the balance,” he said.

  Recognition clicked. The old man who sold us the remarkable training blades.

  “Oh. Him,” I said.

  “Simply inform him that I directed you,” Sebastian said. “He will then state the terms.”

  “Nice,” I said. Thinking Doyle would be pleased. “So, you want to look at the others?”

  Sebastian went very still. “May I ask precisely how many of these are in your possession?”

  I grinned and brought out the last three. Blue. Purple. Gold. I held them where the light could catch, just long enough to see his reaction.

  He froze.

  Sebastian didn’t reach for them. His hand stalled halfway, fingers twitching once before pulling back. He drew in a sharp breath and carefully set his tools down on the bed, one by one, as if even a careless motion might disturb whatever balance the room still had.

  “Sean,” he said in a lowered voice, “I do not ordinarily inquire into the source of a client’s acquisitions.” His gaze flicked briefly to the door before returning to the catalysts. “Nevertheless, I must caution you to be cautious in whom you permit to view these.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “You were fortunate, of all possible venues, to have displayed them within Roy’s establishment,” he continued. “There are locations within the old town where such an action would preclude your departure.”

  My throat tightened. The sword at my hip gave a faint hum.

  Lucky, I thought. And reckless.

  “Alright,” I said, drawing my hand back. “I’ll be more careful going forward. For now, what can you tell me about these?”

  Sebastian examined the remaining crystals one at a time.

  He lifted the blue first, holding it up to the window. Light slid through it, cool and steady, the surface rippling with a soft sapphire sheen.

  “A water nymph,” he said. “Contained cleanly. Observe the flow within the lattice. No turbulence.”

  He turned it slightly, watching how the light bent.

  “Three blessings,” he continued. “Mana efficiency, refined channel control, and regenerative flow. Ideal for sustained casting. It rewards restraint.”

  I felt the chill of it just looking at the thing, a faint pressure behind my eyes as if it were already measuring breath and pulse.

  He set it down and reached for the purple.

  This one he handled with care. The crystal was heavier, its colour deepening as he turned it. It felt like, something inside shifted, slow and deliberate, like a coil tightening around itself.

  “Amethyst wyrm,” he said. “Juvenile, but intact. Dense core. Bound energy.”

  He paused, then spoke more carefully.

  “Three blessings again. Kinetic amplification, environmental manipulation, and accelerated motion. It does not generate power. It releases it.”

  My stomach tightened. The crystal seemed alert, aware of the space around it, as though the room were something it could push against.

  Last came the gold.

  It was sealed in amber, light caught and held. Inside, a stag stood frozen mid-stride, antlers raised, every line clean and deliberate.

  “A gilded stag,” Sebastian said softly. “Rare. Stable.”

  He didn’t turn this one much. He didn’t need to.

  “Three blessings once more,” he went on. “Physical self-mastery, harmony with the wild, and command over natural forces. This one does not force change. It aligns it.”

  Sebastian set the crystal down and rested his hands on the table.

  “Each catalyst offers a complete triad,” he said. “Distinct in application, complementary in philosophy. Once bound into a weapon, the blessings transfer fully to the wielder.”

  I let out a slow breath. “And you’re certain?”

  He met my eyes, then slid his notes toward me.

  Careful lines of script filled the page. Each catalyst matched to a weapon form. Each blessing listed beneath it, precise and deliberate, including a detailed outline of the young dragon soul.

  I leaned closer despite myself, the weight of it settling heavier with every word.

  “How can you tell all of that from just looking at the crystal?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I was granted a suitable blessing. While I lack formal instruction in soul craft, I possess the capacity to perceive what others cannot. Not to mention… That observation and annotation constitute my profession.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Sebastian was packing away his tools when the thought caught up with me. “So, you’re helping Roy organise all these transactions?”

  “I am.”

  I reached into my rune pouch and drew out the folded suit, frayed and still faintly damp. I held it out. “Do you think Roy could take a look at these?”

  Sebastian frowned at the fabric, then at me. “He does not work with cloth.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just… you mentioned he’s working with a few friends to cover the cost of the red catalyst. I thought maybe…”

  He paused, considering. “I may know a tailor in the old town,” he said at last. “And Roy would likely be willing to inspect the runes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No thanks are required,” he replied. “This is purely transactional. As a member of the Caerwyn Trade Guild, I am bound by its rules.”

  I froze.

  “Then these items are recorded?” I asked. “The original purchase as well?”

  Sebastian hesitated. “I have not reviewed that yet.”

  My stomach tightened. A record, whether I wanted it or not.

  “So, the guild holds it,” I said.

  He nodded.

  Sebastian gathered his notes and slid the ledger under his arm. “The transaction will be catalogued,” he said. “In time.”

  He left soon after, his footsteps fading down the corridor. The room felt larger once he was gone.

  I stood there, listening to the house settle around me.

  Somewhere in Caerwyn, ink was drying. Names were being aligned. Values tallied and checked.

  I rested a hand on the sword at my hip.

  It hummed, low and patient.

  As if it already knew how this would end.