Joseph anxiously paced around the room. He stopped from time to time only to peek nervously beyond the heavy curtains that covered the windows of the apartment.

“Stand still, Corwell,” demanded with slight disdain one of the trio present in the room. “You disgrace yourself with your behavior.”

Duke Edward Crofford, head of the noble Crofford family, was the image of nobility. Even while seated and with a simple cloak covering the rich fabric of his clothes, he held an impeccable noble bearing that would have made him stand out in any crowd. He was tall and vigorous, with the sharp, angular features of his face and his intense gaze giving him a hawkish look. Despite being middle-aged, the duke’s hair and beard, cropped short at the manner of soldiers, were still the color of ravens' feathers.

Joseph mechanically stopped his pacing.

“It’s almost time…” he explained helplessly. As always, talking back to the Duke was difficult for him. Edward intimidated him, something a great deal helped by the fact that his father, many years earlier and many times, had told him that if he could have the choice, he would have gladly replaced his only son with the head of the Crofford.

“He’ll come if he’s good for his word.”

Those last words were accompanied by a sharp side-glance and a reproachful tone that Joseph felt like a stab in the stomach. The duke was still angry about him sealing that deal without consulting him.

Joseph wiped at his forehead with a kerchief as ugly memories of confrontations with the domineering Duke came back to mind. He really hoped that Cartus came. He didn’t relish the thought of more arguing.

The third and last of the presents lowered an ornated cup from which he had been drinking.

“Indeed,” he said with mocking courtesy. “No point about being anxious now, Corwell. It’s not like we’re all risking our lives by being here, aren’t we? Oh wait,” he made a surprised expression. “We are!” He laughed and drank some more.

Saul Courtnay shared the same unassuming cloak of the Duke, but the similarities ended there. The clothes he wore underneath were rich and colorful to the point of being flamboyant, a point only emphasized by the feathered hat he held in a hand. Younger than Edward, he was slightly shorter, with a body build speaking of agility rather than strength. He wore well-oiled mustaches, twirled like the latest fashion, and a goatee covered his pointed chin. His welcoming smile, made renowned by the career of the merchant turned noble, was twisted into a lopsided grin, and his vivid hazelnut eyes twinkled with sarcasm. His posture, with an elbow on the fireplace’s mantelpiece, was a work in casual disrespect.

Edward sniffed indignantly, not deigning the jab of an answer. Instead, he covered the handle of the sword leaning against his chair with his cloak, a gesture that in the language of the old warrior aristocracy meant absolute disdain for whom it was directed.

Saul snorted laughter.

Already seeing the budding of a new arguing, Joseph hurried to interject.

“My lords, please! We are here to talk, not to…”

“Lord Corwell,” the duke cut him off, the severity in his gaze enough to make him swallow his words. “I’d be extremely grateful if you didn’t presume the reasons for my visits. And also,” the glance he threw Saul’s way was little more than frigid, “if you use the right titles for the right people.”

Saul seemed to barely hold himself back from laughing hard. “Indeed you should, Corwell. It’s not like that whoever you go around calling Lord has bought the title fair and square, you know, out of his own pockets.”

That seemed to hit a chord in Edward. The Duke’s eyes blazed with outrage.

“Bought!” He exclaimed, saying that word like it contained poison. “Like you could ever buy the nobility. The integrity! All the virtues that are held by a noble title!” The duke cut the air in front of him with an imperious gesture.

“Mh, strange.” Saul tapped his chin, smiling. “The man that sold me the title never mentioned all that stuff.” He shrugged. “Maybe i bought them too?”

Edward’s eyes widened, and his hand actually reached for his blade.

Sensing a disaster, Joseph was quick to jump in.

“Friends, please!” He exclaimed, jumping between the duo. “I beg you, rein in your tempers! Wouldn’t the Crow laugh at seeing us jump at each other’s throats like this?”

The mention of their common enemy worked.

The two men stopped - Saul with his hand hidden in his cloak, undoubtedly reaching for a weapon -, exchanged a withering look and retired their arms. They returned to what things they were doing moments before, pointedly ignoring each other.

Joseph sighed, torn between relief and exhaustion. It was always like that with those two, always arguing, always walking on the knife’s edge.

Like damn children, was what he would have thought if those two were anyone else. But of course, likening to babies two of the most powerful people of the city was ridiculous at best and self-harming at worst.

Regretfully, that didn’t change the situation.

We are so divided. That was why the Crow and his goons had had a field day taking half the city. The forces opposing them were torn, two of their most important leaders bickering over the smallest details. And i don’t have what it takes to keep them together, he thought with a surge of self-loathing. His father could have; him? Not a chance. It was much already that they allowed him to take part in those meetings. For them, he was more of a figurehead than anything else, and surely not somebody they would put their differences aside for. Why, the moment he talked they were at each other’s throat. Rather than acting the peacemaker, he only managed to do the opposite.

Joseph passed a kerchief over his forehead, already covered in sweat. What will Cartus think?

The Guildmaster wouldn’t have been the first to refuse to take part in their so-called alliance after having seen how long that “so-called” stretched. He could only hope that Cartus would be different. Ah, if only those two listened…

A knock at the door interrupted his bleak thoughts. After a respectful moment, Robert peeked inside.

“He’s here.”

Joseph felt a small jolt of dread. It was time.

The Duke barely shifted, somehow managing to pass from brooding composure to a noble bearing. Saul just smirked and drank from his cup.

“Ah, good!” Joseph said, hurrying at the door. “And he’s…?”

“Yes. He knew all the passwords.”

Joseph felt relief wash over him. Considering they knew the man‘s face, all that security felt almost silly, but it was better safe than sorry. Thankfully, the complex weave of messages they had in place to transmit passwords was a little too much even for the Crow to crack.

Joseph smoothed his jerkin with nervous gestures. Well, here goes nothing i suppose. He dabbed at his face with his handkerchief and nodded to his guard.

“Let him in,” he said.

The guard retreated, leaving them to tense silence.

After a moment, heavy steps were heard, and then the door opened, admitting the Guildmaster himself.

Joseph had done his homework. Since the moment Cartus had come to public attention, he had his informers try to dig information on him, an effort that he had redoubled once the chance of him entering in their alliance had been made clear. What they had managed to dig out about the man’s past ended to be only a confusing mismatch of voices and theories without any proof to back them up. It was about the present that information became concrete: where Cartus had invested, what he had bought, his movements the few times he appeared in public. Joseph knew everything about those, a knowledge made rock-solid by hours passed through papers and relations. Like that, he had begun to know the mysterious man that answered to the name of Lucius Cartus; his stern manners, his severe countenance, his speech brief and to the point.

Up to a certain point, he knew what s to expect. And still, he was taken aback all the same once the real deal was before him.

Cartus was tall, almost towering; slim but not to the point of being lanky, his physique emanating a dry kind of strength. He looked older than Joseph had thought, his immaculate short beard not showing a hair that wasn’t snow white. Still, he was straight-backed as a youth, apparently untouched by whatever age he possessed. What impressed Joseph the most were the eyes: gray like a raincloud, with a steely glint to them, they possessed a piercing quality that defied words. And that was only about what he could see: the Guildmaster seemed to emanate a heavy aura that felt almost palpable.

Joseph found himself speechless. That man, whoever he was, wasn’t your everyday individual. That, he felt with the utmost certainty.

He was still struggling to find back his voice when Edward sprang at his feet. In a manifestation of respect that left him baffled, the Duke actually walked at the newcomer to give him his welcome.

“Sir Cartus,” he said with an almost hurried courtesy, “we bid you welcome in this humble abode. My name is Edward Crofford, and i am honored to bear the title of Duke of Torgevald.”

Surprise after surprise!

Joseph watched his friend as he had just sprouted a second head. Not only Edward had got up to welcome the newcomer, something that his superior rank and seniority in their alliance could have easily excused him from, but he had even presented himself before Cartus, like he was the one holding the inferior rank of the two.

If he was surprised or impressed by that welcoming, Cartus didn’t show him. His expression was a mask of stern calm. Still, Joseph felt that the man was flattered. It was all in the eyes, he realized almost without thinking, in those and in the subtle shifts of that face that, despite looking to have been carved out of wood, managed to be incredibly expressive.

The Guildmaster took the hand the Duke offered him and shook it.

“My Lord Duke, you honor me far too much.” The old man’s voice was deep and rumbling, but strangely pleasant to hear, with a resonant and clear quality to it.

“Think nothing of it,” replied the noble. “Come. Join us.”

Again acting with that uncharacteristic respect, the Duke led the Guildmaster into the room.

Joseph was still so surprised that he noticed the frowning glances that Edward threw his way only after a moment. He almost jumped. Ah, of course!

“We bid you welcome, Sir Cartus,” he said hurriedly. There was an empty chair that he hurried to push toward the newcomer. “Please, have a seat.”

Cartus obliged with a courteous nod. He threw a glance toward Saul, finding the merchant watching him with attention. Instead of asking what the matter was, Cartus’ gaze strayed to the half-filled cup he still held, and his forehead creased in displeasure. He averted his eyes a moment later, leaving a very off-put Saul to gaze with some hesitation at his cup.

Joseph had followed the little exchange with the same bafflement of his old friend’s sudden courtesy. Saul was much known for his unflappable composure against any kind of reproach for his habits, especially from the elderly. To have him balk at a disapproving glance was as rare as seeing a mule teach at the university.

“Well, i’ll say that we can begin, can’t we?” The Duke took back his seat. “Joseph?”

“Ah, yes, of course!” Corwell rubbed his hands together, trying to mask the lingering surprise. His two associates had returned to their usual composure: nobly straight for Edward and grinning and casually slumping for Saul. Still, he noted their first reactions. It seemed that their first impressions of the Guildmaster had been quite the event. Not like he couldn’t associate with that. The man sure was impressive…

He adjusted the collar of his jerkin, feeling a lump of anxiety in his throat. Calm down, Joseph. Now it’s the time to appear firm and assured.

He began.

“Sir Cartus, once again, we bid you welcome. First of all, allow me to thank you on my and my associates’ behalf for being here. It’s wonderful to see a citizen take a stand for our city. The fact that you’re still a relatively new arrival only do you more honor.”

And that was usually the point where the other party courteously reminded him that no, they hadn’t still decided where to throw their lot yet. Joseph prepared himself for it.

But apparently, Cartus had decided to be the bearer of unexpected happenings to that meeting.

Calmly sitting on his chair, his elbows on the armrests and his fingers pointed against each other, Cartus just watched him, an undecipherable expression in those gray eyes so talkative only a moment ago.

“Indeed.”

His lips barely moved as he graveled that single word. Not a part of his body did anything as small as a single shift.

Joseph had a vision of boulders in a meadow, being overtaken by moss and growth and still remaining there, untouched by the passage of time. A small shiver ran through his back.

“Yes, indeed, uhm… allow me to make formal introductions. You already know Duke Edward Crofford.”

“It’s an honor.”

“The Duke acts as the representative of the noble families that supports us. He can command their help both on the political level and if necessary the arms of their households.”

“I see. A powerful backing. It’s comforting to know that the strength of these brave nobles stand behind us.”

The Duke nodded, apparently undisturbed, but the small curve of his lips told Joseph that he was pleased by Cartus’ words.

“Lord Saul Courtnay stands instead as representative of the merchants and the… New nobility that belongs to our faction. Surely you heard of him. He’s the Count of Bellflower.”

Cartus nodded gravely. “It’s an honor, my lord.”

The Count replied with a shrug and a grin that was barely short of being mocking. “The honor is mine, Guildmaster. I suggest you be careful with those titles though. There are people around that have a very original opinion about their use.”

Joseph barely held himself back from flinching at the jab. Thankfully, apart from a small flinch in the cheek, Edward didn’t take the provocation.

Cartus had arched an eyebrow at the exchange. Joseph hoped he hadn’t picked up much.

“That said,” he hurried up to continue. “We’re thoroughly impressed by how you handled the matter with the Arrows.” He threw a hopeful gaze around.

Edward nodded gravely, looking adequately impressed.

“Yeas, sure.” Saul shrugged carelessly, earning for himself a hard glare from the Count, that he ignored.

A hint of annoyance flashed through Cartus’ expression.

“Good men died for it,” he said calmly. He pointedly gazed at the Count until Saul averted his gaze. To Joseph‘s immense relief, he didn‘t press the issue. “That said, it was part of the deal and so it was done. If anything, i thank you for the ease of the task you gave me to accept my request.”

Ease…? From his information, Joseph wouldn’t have exactly called that task easy.

“Does that mean that you have such forces at your disposal that eliminating a fearsome band of bandits does classify as easy for you?” The casualness of Saul’s question was well-faked, the merchant hiding his attention behind his cup.

Cartus interlaced his fingers together and didn’t answer, the smallest hint of amusement passing through those steely eyes.

The trio was left to try and make their conclusions out of that.

Joseph broke the tense silence that had descended with a polite cough.

“Of course,” he said. “That was the deal, and we’ll keep our part.”

“Indeed,” the duke interjected. “As much as distasteful it is, an insider isn’t something we can allow to pass us by. On behalf of my family, i thank you for being ready to take such a heavy weight on you.” Edward’s admiration was earnest and sincere. It soured with distaste as he glanced toward Joseph. “As much as irregular the deal has been, it still remains a powerful asset.”

Joseph felt embarrassment warm his neck as Saul chuckled. His old friend had been chiding him non-stop about his initiative since he had brought it at his attention. But to bring it up even at this meeting!

“Don’t you worry, Corwell,” Saul chided. “I think that you’ve done the right thing. If anything, doing differently would have been supremely stupid.”

Edward sniffed with disdain.

Joseph boiled with embarrassment for himself and his allies’ demeanors. That they showed their divisions like that was just what he had feared the most.

Cartus observed silently.

“Ehm, yes,” Joseph dabbed at his face with his handkerchief. “Anyway, as i was saying, we’ll keep our own part of the deal. Sir Cartus, we’ll accept you as our ally, but we’ll keep our agreement a secret so that you’ll be free to pursue your attempt to enter in the Crow’s good graces.”

“Regretfully, that means that we won’t be able to help you in case of danger,” the Duke added helpfully. “On the other side, we understand that your work will be liable to bring you to perform… unpleasant work. We’re ready to overlook much of it, since it’s necessary, but we’re going to ask that you speak of it to us beforehand, if you have the chance.”

That was an important point, and the Duke made it known with a pointed look.

Cartus nodded. “Understandable.”

“This is a big demonstration of trust,” Saul pointed out. “We kinda expect you to understand it, and, well keep it in mind, alright?” He smirked. “And no betrayals, alright?”

Those words sank into the air like bricks in a pond of water. It was a threat, not even veiled. They were trusting him, but in the end, they weren’t going to bet much on him. Instead, they would be watching him with attention, ready to drop him off if he tried anything funny.

Anyone would have shown some unease at the pressure. Cartus smiled. It was a peaceful smile, of a grandpa before his grandkids’ antics.

“Understandable.”

Joseph swallowed.

“I have to ask,” Cartus began, instantly attracting the general attention. “Is there some kind of hierarchy to this group? Is there someone i should answer to?”

The question actually put some measure of embarrassment on the three. Cartus was a beacon of elderly authority. The thought of one of them ordering him felt… unappropriate.

It was a moment. Then the ridiculousness of the thought asserted itself.

“Not really, no,” Saul clarified. “Our alliance is based on voluntary membership. You’re free to go and come as you wish, and the same goes for your fealty. You can decide to keep it to yourself or to give it to someone else to act as your representative. We and the Duke act as representatives of our factions because we have been chosen. Regretfully, that doesn’t mean that we can always act without their consent, but that’s only fair after all.” He smirked. “Still, as much as this little rogue council of us is concerned, our word carries the same weight.”

The last jab didn’t fly over the Duke’s head, that bristled visibly.

“I see,” Cartus hummed. “But this where do leaves me? I am sure that my modest contributions don‘t warrant a say-so in this council.”

“We thought about the matter.” The Duke folded his arms before his chest. “And we decided that since your… particular position, it would be better if you keep direct contact with us. For the rest, you’ll have the same rights than any one of the presents, fully in your right to repel or accept whatever decision we‘ll take.”

“I understand. I thank you for your explanation.”

Joseph felt a surge of relief. Cartus couldn’t have been more reasonable and ready to help them. Small snags aside, everything seemed to go well.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Saul scratched his chin, grinning. “You’re the one putting your head on the chopping block. Compared to that, these are just little things.”

“Mph, nonsense.” The Duke cut the air with an imperious gesture. “With cunning and guile, the Crow can be deceived. It had already happened.”

“Indeed. And we have seen how it has ended.” Saul’s sarcasm was as biting as a blade.

Edward’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Joseph inspired sharply, sensing a storm approaching.

“Friends…”

“There are still many doubts about Arsham’s end.” The Duke’s voice was a threatening low.

Saul gave him a smiling mouthful of teeth, then smoothly turned to Cartus, that listened with calm attention.

“What i meant, my dear Guildmaster, is that you should act with the utmost attention. There has been… puzzling circumstances regarding our last insider.”

Edward sharply stood straight, fingers digging into his chair’s armrests.

“You dare?” He hissed. “You dare to insult me by suggesting that i have betrayed that brave man?”

“Gentlemen, please…”

“Did i now?” Saul put up a guilty expression. “My lord must be wrong like he usually is. After all, it’s not like he’s been the first throwing around accusations.”

“You deserve it, you unworthy, little…”

“Ah, and then it comes with the verbal fencing.” Saul sighed with regret. “I always thought we’re about to find an agreement and then you start with the unworthy.” He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Sounding like someone trying to avert the topic would say, mh?”

“Enough!”

Edward jumped at his feet. He was livid, his trembling hand hovering over his sword’s handle.

Joseph felt his heart jump in his throat. It was happening! Just like he feared!

“My friends, please! We must not…”

“Stay out of this, Joseph!”

The Duke’s sharp rebuke, and the Count’s sharp glare, had him almost choke on his words. He drew back quickly, almost like he had been whipped.

“It’s you that failed to inform Arsham of the ambush!” The Duke barked. “You that caused his death!”

“Funny.” Saul’s chuckle was pure poison. “My Lord seems to think that us merchants know every thug hiding under every stinking rock. Hey, it must be the difference of breedings. I guess that having a couple of ancestors with nice coats makes you all-knowing.”

“You…!”

“By the way, remind me exactly who was to supply Arsham with enough soldiers? Oh dear, but it was our noble Duke.” He grinned broadly. “Maybe we should start asking ourselves questions about that, shouldn’t we?”

Edward paled, then his face turned an angry red. To Joseph’s sharp alarm, he grabbed his sword and made it to unsheathe it.

He stopped himself with the blade an inch out of its scabbard, trembling. For a moment, it seemed like violence would erupt. In the end, the Duke managed to rein back his temper. With a savage growl, he slammed the sword back into its sheath.

“I won’t stay here and be insulted by a leech playing at being nobility!” He declared, fury and outrage intermingling. “It’s only out of respect for Joseph and Sir Cartus that i don’t cut you down where you stand, wretch!”

Saul’s smirk and casual posture only riled him up further.

“Sir Cartus, i am deeply sorry that you had to see this disgraceful scene.” The Duke struggled to control himself. “Please, come to my house when you can. There we’ll be able to talk about Blackstone’s plight without the intromissions of ruffians.” The venom in that last part was accompanied by a hard glance that had Saul raise his cup in salutation.

With a hurried word to Joseph, the Duke swept away and out of the room, slamming the door behind himself.

“Well, thank the Light for that,” the Count said after Edward’s heavy steps had disappeared. Smiling contentedly, he adjusted his jacket. “I guess this puts an end to this little reunion of ours. I’ll say, it has been quite the liberating bit. Corwell, Sir Cartus.” He tipped his head to both. “I’ll contact you soon.”

He left them with that cryptic words, disappearing beyond the door, that closed shut behind him. They could hear his cheerful whistling even after his steps had faded away.

Joseph barely heard it. He was in a daze. His side felt like a red-hot splinter was jabbed into it, and he could feel a splitting headache already rising.

Things couldn’t have gone worse. What a disaster.