The letter's contents had Artman worried. Maven glared at him from across the table with a gaze so loaded with expectation it threatened to break.

"Artman, are we rich?" she asked. Artman rubbed his forehead and threw his hands in the air.

"I don't know," he stated. Maven leaned farther across the small table, practically on top of if.

"Artman, Are. We. Rich?" she asked slowly, in a low tone. Artman couldn't answer. He kept staring at the piece of paper he held in his hands. Hands near shaking.

In a panic, they'd rushed back to Artman's loft, running back like they'd stolen money from the bank and were on the run from the guards. Clutching the note like a precious jewel or a dear child, afraid to let it go for even a moment.

Now pouring over the fine details in private, the full extent of the offer had become clear. Their potential patron, San German, was offering Artman full financial backing, in exchange for developing his Simulacra charm for public use. In addition, San German also promised to make available to him a full workspace and private land to conduct his experiments, and several assistants to aid him in his endeavors as well.

He even offered to patent everything, under a dual ownership of course.

Artman still couldn't stop reading and rereading the letter, over and over. It hadn't even been a day since he presented to the Council. How could this man have even known-

"Artie!" Maven shouted, causing his attention to snap away from the letter and back to his own kitchen table where Maven was now towering over him and giving a rude look.

"Get down from there Maven, you'r not a child!" He scolded her. She knelt and looked him directly in the eyes, maintaining her rude pout.

"Next time, answer a simple bloody question, you daft-!" she stopped herself and took a breath. She held Artman's face in her hands and pressed her face as close as she could, and asked in a smaller tone of voice. "Artman, Artie." She paused a moment before asking the question..

"Are we rich now?"

He tried to look away, but she physically held him and his gaze affixed, and asked again.

"Are we Rich, Artman?"

His eye's, dark with fear, uncertainty, a maelstrom of wild emotions like rapids. He reached up and took her hands in his, folding them together and taking a long sigh.

"I don't know."

Maven threw her hands up in disgust as Artman sank into his empty hands.

"I can't believe this, after all this time, sculpting, working. Whatever the hell those little pins were for-"she shouted, standing up and sliding off the table so she could stomp around properly

"I need to mimic the muscles structure, and you-You were fine afterwards, great even." Artman tried to defend himself, or rather that incident.

"Oh, Like Love making is supposed to make up for it?! I risked so much on you and now-" She was near breaking point, holding back a powerful wave of angry, turbulent emotions. Artman stood to match her furious dilemma, locking eyes for a moment before she broke down and fell into his arms.

"I can't go back Artie, I-I need this to be worth it. Please, just tell it's worth it." she whispered to him.

Artman held her for a moment, stiff and conflicted. His arms fell into place around her as he clung to her. "Everything will be fine Maven, it's going to be alright. You've done so much already. It's going to be fine, I" he stopped himself from finishing. And then thought of something else.

"We just need a moment to think. Alright?"

"We?" her eyes had softened from a fox to a kitten, Artman couldn't help but smile at the rare sight.

"Yes, We. Were in this together. You're my assistant, remember? Now, assist me in deciphering this letter, will you?" He cooed, also secretly praying she wasn't about to stab him for being to comfortable with her.

"Now, what do we know about this San German? "he asked, handing her the letter. Maven shook herself clear of the previous emotions and by the time she was holding the piece of paper, had already finished burying them in the deepest corners of her mind.

"San German is, well, mostly a rumor. Eclectic doesn't even scratch him." She started off, studying the wrinkled parchment closely.

"From what anyone knows, he was a foreign lord that took a liking to local women, and just stuck around after his business was done. Then one day he just vanished into a mansion somewhere in the countryside and never came out. Occasionally there was a rumor he'd married or killed his fifth bride or something, but they never held water, or much else, for that matter."

Artman took a careful step back from her and set the old kettle to heat while she read over the letter again. "What else have you heard? If he's interested in the Order or the more esoteric practices, he's never shown it till now." he said over his shoulder, while he started preparing tea.

"Other than a rumored fondness of swans and Deer, no, nothing really useful. Most of them were just the same dirty stories about aristocrats making love to animals and such. Nothing about him personally."

Artman placed two mugs on the counter and started pawing around for the tea leaves.

"So he's foreign money, liked the weather, so to speak, and people tell black stories about him in the village square." he set his hands on the counter and sighed. "But other than hearsay, nobodies knows a blessed thing about him."

"And now he wants to buy the patterns that make Wooden Man come to life." he frowned at how long the kettle was taking to boil.

"And is willing to pay handsomely for it too," Maven added. She placed the letter down on the table and let her fingers comb back her hair as she leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, which leads me to my next question. How did he know about the Wooden Man?"

This caught Maven's attention as she slowly leveled her eyes with the Artman's back once more.

"Well ,you did spend almost three days drinking and toasting to the thing, Rumors are bound to spread from that alone. And there was the Gauntlet trial." she pointed, statement poised at the end of her finger.

"I distinctly remember you also being there, stealing drunken kisses and playing with the boys heartstrings throughout the night."

She waved him off "Ah, but I came home with you, not them. Also, I may have slipped out once or twice to hurl my stomach into the street because of the terrible ale. So, no, not all night."

He gave a stern look and then turned to sit down at the table across from her, Putting hand to chin.

"So, all I'm worried about is, Can San German make good on all this? It sounds like he's got the money, but that means nothing if he won't pay his dues." Artman asked. his companion also thought about it for a moment, turning over ideas in mutual silence, until the squeal of the teakettle broke the spell.

They resumed their contemplations over a simple cup of tea. Until they reached the same conclusion.

"I guess we'll just have to meet this, San German." Artman said. Maven nodded as well.

"Does that mean we're taking this deal? Even though we know nothing about this man or his honor?" she asked. Artman could only shrug.

"Well, we don't have many options at the moment. So, what do you think? Take a chance at being rich?"

She gave quite a smile back at him. "Yes, I Think I'd like that. Let's us see if San German is a man of his word." She said, sipping her tea to hide a rapidly growing, giddy grin.