Sheah stepped into the brokerage. The bell above the door greeted her with its ever-pleasant chime.

  “Did you boys forget something?” a warm voice called from the stockroom. “Just a moment, I’ll be back with you shortly!”

  Sheah kept quiet, snickering to herself as she envisioned the forthcoming surprise on her uncle’s face. As she waited for his appearance, she drifted deeper into the store, reveling in its many wonders and curiosities.

  Mueler’s Brokerage was a quaint and comfy shop, overflowing with treasures from all periods of antiquity. Every inch of its auburn shelves was chock-full of artifacts and oddities—a vast collection that was at once chaotic yet strangely methodical in its arrangement. Even though she was now in the expeditionary business herself, Sheah still had little idea where most of the artifacts came from or what they were once used for. However, many of them were encrusted with all manner of silver and jewels, the exact values of which she was well aware of. Aside from the relics, the shop additionally offered more modern fare: practical adventuring supplies in the form of rope, maps, ammo, and weapons, all neatly displayed on the wall behind the counter.

  Sheah blissfully smiled, breathing in the rich atmosphere that only a proper brokerage could provide. She had always found it quite amusing that, despite their humble, homespun quality, the Brokers were in fact one of the most powerful organizations in all of the Empire, perhaps even the world. In truth, the members of the Imperial Historical Society were the cornerstone of the archaeological industrial complex, serving as overseers and arbiters for the general exchange of all relics reclaimed from the northern wastes. Not even the largest corporations dared cross them, for without the broker’s appraisal, and the use of their auction houses, it would be impossible for any expedition to yield even a paltry profit.

  At last, the curtain behind the counter parted. A familiar figure appeared: a slender, scholastic man with a sharp nose and smiling eyes, besuited in layers of tweed with an IHS pin affixed to his lapel. The moment he sighted the customer in his doorway, his face glowed bright with excitement.

  “Hello, Uncle Karsten!” Sheah beamed.

  “Sheah!” Karsten sang back. “Well, if this isn’t a blessed day!” Squeezing past the counter, he trotted over and wrapped her in a firm embrace. “It’s so wonderful to see you, kiddo. Back from Ama-Lasria so soon?”

  “Don’t tease,” Sheah giggled.

  “How is everything? How’s the Redland Runner?”

  “The ship is smashing,” she proudly proclaimed. “Everything is in tip-top shape.”

  “Ah, I’d expect nothing less from a Zuferra model. Still one of your father’s finest designs, I say. So, tell me—what does bring you back to town early? I thought you said you were going to be in the Trenean Verge for a few months.”

  “Oh, yes…” Sheah grimaced. “Well, the Verge job… fell through—But that is no bother, because I decided instead to do a little spelunking of my own.” Digging into her bag, she shimmied out her prize, still swaddled in its original wrappings. She stepped over and placed the bundle onto the countertop. “And this time,” she announced, “I do believe I have discovered quite the extraordinary specimen.”

  “Oh, a new relic?” said Karsten, fluttering his fingers. He eagerly made his way back behind the counter.

  “Yes. We found it within the bowels of a cultish bastion. Wonderfully thrilling stuff.” Sheah smirked, leaning in closer. “I suspect it is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.”

  “My my, you have me intrigued,” Karsten hummed. Reaching into his vest pocket, he removed a pair of spectacles festooned with a bevy of magnifying lenses. He donned his glasses and began to delicately unfurl the wrappings. “Let’s take a look here, shall we?”

  Simmering with nervous anticipation, Sheah studied her uncle’s every minute expression. She watched closely as he peeled back the final fold, exposing the iridescent metalwork of the ritual mask. The very moment he laid his eyes upon it, though, he seemed to almost wince, his brows subtly pressing in. Handling the mask with care, he gave it a thorough inspection. Little by little, his smile began to fade.

  Sheah felt her pulse quicken. She quickly silenced her screaming doubts, trying not to read too much into it. Perhaps his expression was a good thing—perhaps the relic was so unique and impressive that it made him look somber? Surely that was a thing.

  “So—what do we have?” Sheah blurted out, still clinging to what straws of hope she could.

  Sighing through his nose, Karsten returned the mask to its wrappings. He folded up his glasses and looked Sheah soberly in the eye. “I’m afraid we don’t have much,” he confessed.

  Sheah’s heart sank like a stone. “…No?” she squeaked.

  “Your timing, well, it’s… unfortunate, to say the least,” he said. “You see, less than a week ago the crew of the Dusk Reaver brought back more than fifty of these Yahtte ritual masks from a mass grave they found out in Nairras. Fifty-six, if I’m remembering that right. Regardless, they’ve completely flooded the collector’s market since then, driving the price… rather low.”

  “H—how low?”

  “Well, let’s see…” Stroking his chin, Karsten glanced between his logbook and the ceiling, crunching numbers in his head like a human abacus. A beat later, he arrived at a figure. “…I can give you five hundred for it,” he decided. “How does that sound?”

  Sheah froze. Surely this must be some kind of nightmare. “F—five hundred?” she finally managed to stammer. “That’s truly all it’s worth?”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, kiddo,” Karsten expressed. He put on a strained smile, trying to soften the blow. “I’m actually giving you quite a bargain here, if that makes you feel any better.”

  It didn’t.

  “But—but five hundred saebles won’t even afford me a full tank of biodiesel!” Sheah cried. “How will I… I—I won’t…” She pressed her fingers into her temples, her brain swelling full of worries. With hastening breath, she turned away, desperate to conjure up even the thinnest of silver linings. “No, no, this is—this is fine,” she muttered to herself. “Yes, it’s fine. I can still manage with five hundred. Somehow, I can—I can manage…”

  “Kiddo, are you… alright?”

  Hunching over, Sheah clutched her fingers at her coat, clenching it tight. “I can manage…” she croaked, trembling, burning through her final fumes of optimism. “I simply need to… I—I can just…” Slowly, she began to spiral into despair. Despite her best efforts, she failed to find a new plan to cling to—just as she had failed with everything else.

  “…Sheah?”

  All at once, the dam stemming her woe broke wide open. Throwing back her head, she began to weep.

  “Oh gods, what am I doing?!” she cried, a tide of tears falling down her cheeks. Swirling, her vision blurred, Sheah stumbled over to an antique bench and caved into its cushion. She buried her face in her hands and heaved out a series of bawling, miserable breaths.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Wide-eyed and filled with worry, Karsten quickly moved around the counter. He sat himself beside his niece and laced a loving arm around her shoulder. “Hey, kiddo, it’s alright,” he soothed, holding her close. “I know it’s not what you hoped for, but I’m sure next time you’ll bring me something very special.”

  “It’s… it’s not that…” choked Sheah between her sobs. “There… there won’t be a… a next time…”

  Karsten tented his brows. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

  “Oh, Uncle, it… it’s all become such a mess… My company… My company is nearly bankrupt.”

  “Bankrupt?” Karsten gasped. “But how? What about all those successful expeditions you had? I thought things started off so well?”

  “They—they did…” said Sheah, fighting against her heaving breath. “But it’s been one—one disaster after another, and I haven’t been able to secure a proper job in months. What little funds I started with are long gone, and now I barely have enough saved for one last trip north. I’ve been hiding it from my crew, but now I’ll… I’ll have to tell them… And once I do, they’ll all leave...” Try as she may, Sheah couldn’t restrain her misery. She shrank deeper into herself. “They’ll leave and I’ll have nothing, and everyone who told me I couldn’t do this will be right! They are right! Gods, I am such a fool!”

  “Aw, kiddo, don’t say that,” her uncle expressed in a losing attempt to console her. “Things may seem bleak now, but you’ll find a way through. I know you, you’re stronger than you think.”

  “But I don’t know what to do anymore,” Sheah sniffed, casting aside his comforts. “I’ve done everything I could: I’ve researched best practices, I’ve studied the markets, I’ve even involved myself in acquisitions. I’ve scrimped and saved, I’ve budgeted and I’ve budgeted, and still I cannot afford to keep things running. If—if I could only get one good job, then I could keep us going until the summer rush kicks in. I still have happy clients lined up from last year, ones expressly willing to give me a lucrative contract. But—but without a crew… I’ll be finished…”

  “What about the Expeditioners Union?” said Karsten. “Aren’t they supposed to help out with—”

  “Nobody at the Union will even give me a chance,” Sheah sighed. “It took everything I had to convince them I was serious about joining, but still they all think of me as some… airheaded debutante… And I couldn’t even be one of those correctly!”

  As her sobbing began to settle, Sheah drew a handkerchief from her coat and daintily discharged her nose into it. Sliding off her glasses, she buried her head into her uncle’s shoulder. “Mom and dad warned me I was unfit for the expeditionary business…” she croaked. “But I just… I so wanted to prove that I could be… me… That I could accomplish something on my own. And then after they…” She paused, her chest rattling. “I thought if I actually succeeded, then maybe when I see them again in the Dream… they might truly be proud of me… But now I know I will only ever be a disappointment…”

  Karsten’s frown deepened. “Sheah…”

  “I never should have started this idiotic venture…” Sheah sniffed. “I should have known I would just fail… I am such a disgrace to the Ziedler name…”

  Karsten exhaled a doleful breath. He held Sheah tighter, gently rubbing her back with care. “You’re not a failure, kiddo,” he soothed. “You did everything you could, you just… been dealt a poor hand. I only wish there was something I could do. With everything that’s happened these past few years, everything you’ve been through, I… I should’ve been there for you more… I should’ve been there…”

  Just then, Kasten began to stir. Lifting his head, he glanced over towards the door, his eyes flitting back and forth in a flurry of thoughts. Very gradually, his brows pressed together, his mouth crinkling with conflict.

  “…You said all you need to stay afloat is one job?” he quietly asked.

  Pushing herself upright, Sheah dejectedly nodded. “Yes, but it does not matter anymore…” she moaned, returning her glasses to her face. “I must accept my fate. The die is cast, there is no way out of thi—Uncle? Where are you going?”

  At once, Karsten surged to his feet. Moving swiftly, decisively, he bound over to the front of the store, flipping the door sign to ‘closed’ before lowering all of the blinds.

  “Sheah, listen to me,” he said, his tone turning gravely serious. Before Sheah even knew what was happening, Karsten had rushed back over and crouched to her level. He firmly clutched her hands. “What I’m about to do is a direct violation of the Broker Code. If this gets out, I will lose everything. Do you understand?”

  Sheah could only blink back at him, adrift in a storm of confusion. “What—what are you talking about?” she finally managed to ask.

  “I made a promise to your mother, rest her soul, that if anything should happen to her I would look after you.” Karsten peered warmly into Sheah’s eyes. “It’s about time I kept that promise.”

  Shaking her head, Sheah withdrew her hands. “I—I don’t know what this is, but I cannot ask you to risk anything on my account. I don’t—”

  “Please, I have a way to save your company. I just need you to listen.”

  Sheah grew still. Too overwhelmed by curiosity to protest further, she sat back and softly nodded.

  “Okay,” Karsten breathed. Quickly glancing back and forth, he leaned in close, speaking secretively. “Right before you arrived, I was helping out a pair of expeditioners—a couple of dandies from the capital, from the looks of it.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Sheah, recalling their faces. “I saw them leaving. Who were they?”

  Karsten shrugged. “I can’t say, I’ve never seen them around before. But whoever they were, they were a very talkative duo. They were in here for a long while, and as I was helping them stock up they kept on boasting to me about their most recent expedition. They said they had just returned from a big find—a treasure trove, they even called it, something that was going to make them legends. They said all they needed to do now was to go back up there and fetch it. Do you have your map?”

  “Hm? Oh, um—” Twitching, Sheah bore into her pocket and swiftly pulled out her chart of the supercontinent. She hurried over to the counter and unfolded the map on its surface, centering it on the wasteland: the teardrop-shaped landmass that stretched from the planet’s northern tropic to its arctic pole.

  Karsten pressed his finger onto the paper. “They said they’d discovered a temple, here, in the Dremasean hills just a few days northeast. See this dried riverbed? If you follow it all the way up, you’ll supposedly find an ancient settlement, turn-of-the-Sundering maybe, and as far as I know completely untouched. Those two boys came back to town to stock up on food and ammo, and they’re set to depart around this time tomorrow. Now, if everything they said is true, then a place like this should have more than enough goods to go around. If you take the Redland Runner and leave first thing, you can get to the temple, skim some relics off the top, and then get out before anyone knows you were there. Do you understand?”

  Sheah clenched her eyes, unsure of what to make of such a gambit. It was all a lot to take in. “But… but what of this other crew?” she asked.

  “You said you saw them, right?” said Karsten. “Trust me, they’re not in need of any funding, and I doubt they would notice a few artifacts missing from the pile. They’ll get their glory, and you’ll get back on your feet. Everybody wins.”

  Sheah bit her lip, taking a breath to debate the scheme in her head, weighing her options, or lack thereof. Before she could arrive at a conclusion, Karsten gently took her hand.

  “Please,” he implored, coaxing her gaze. He sighed out a great sorrow. “I just… I miss that bright-eyed little girl I used to know, the one who loved telling me all about the expeditionary fleet she’d one day run, about the titan of commerce she’d be. All I want in this world is to see that girl smile again. Will you do this, for me?”

  Sheah stared at her uncle, a profound gratitude swelling in her heart. Compelled by his words, she softly nodded in agreement.

  “Good. Now, here—” Opening the register, Karsten scooped out a handful of coins and pressed them into Sheah’s palm. “Take this for the mask. Go, get whatever supplies you need and head north at first light.”

  Sheah blinked, staring down at the stack of silver sliding around on her hand. “But—but this is far more—”

  “Consider it a loan,” her uncle dismissed. He flashed her a playful grin. “And don’t forget, I’m a stickler for interest.”

  Sheah cracked a smile back. Slowly, she curled her fingers around the coins, all the while searching for the proper words to say. “Uncle Karsten… I…”

  “It’s alright, kiddo,” he said with a knowing nod. Returning to the front of his shop, he raised the blinds and flipped the sign back to ‘open’. “Now, please, you must move quickly,” he urged, holding open the door for her.

  Wiping the last tears from her eyes, Sheah moved to exit the store. As she passed her uncle, he slowed her with a tender hand on her shoulder.

  “Wait,” he said. “Always remember: your mother and father will forever be proud of you.”

  Sheah reeled, feeling her tears welling up again. Moving in, she wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Uncle…” she whispered, “…for everything…” She held him dearly, wishing she could say so much more, do so much more. He had given her a second chance, and she would not waste it. One day, no matter the cost, she would find a way to repay him for this kindness.

  With the greatest of efforts, she released her embrace. Composing herself, she gave her uncle one last loving look before stepping through the shop’s exit, the trill of the bell signaling her departure.