“I’m not a good-for-nothing you petty drunk bastard,” Nina retorted surprisingly fiercely before turning back to Regis. “My family might have fallen from grace back in Harmarond, but that was due to political troubles, not because we were bad at doing our job. If it wasn’t for the lord of this bastard, we would have lived on perfectly…”

“Who gives a damn about how you would have lived. This isn’t Harmarond any more and a little lassie like you could never…”

“Get lost!” Regis said with a deep and cold voice as his purple eyes and arcane intimidation skill flared up.”

The man turned pale while stammering back, barely staying on his feet. Finding it better to leave, the stranger did just that. When he was gone, the dark elf turned towards the flustered young woman.

“Please, continue.”

“Wha…. Oh, right. As I was about to say, my greatest achievement would be striking a deal between my and a rival family that earned us twice the amount the wares were worth, despite the enmity between our families.”

“I see. How familiar are you with arcane materials and wares?”

“My family mostly dealt with potion ingredients, low-ranked potions and scrolls, but given the chance, I should be able to familiarise myself with anything of value, although I would need time to build up new connections throughout these lands.”

“That is a given since we’re all new here. Still, I trust Quentin’s opinion when choosing people. Here, read this through and make an offer regarding the percentage you’ll take from any commissions made by the people of our settlement.”

Saying that the spell weaver turned toward the somewhat older woman with two children hiding behind her.

“And you are?”

“Irene, sir.” She answered after gathering her courage.

“I take it you volunteered to be the shopkeeper I’m looking for?”

“Yes,” Irene nodded. “My husband owned a small spell scroll shop in Woodcrest, southeast of Harmarond’s capital. I helped him run the shop and got quite good at it. When he passed away, he left his sigil to me, so I am a professed Shardwaker tradeswoman myself as well.”

“You’re opening a shop?” Chera asked the dark elf, a slight surprise evident in her voice.

“I received the deed of a scribes’ shop in East Fork. It’s near the spell casters’ guild, so I’ll have to leave it in your care later.”

“Don’t worry,” the woman reassured him. “I’ll keep an eye out in case someone would try to cause trouble.”

“Thank you,” he nodded before turning back toward Irene. “Here’s your contract. Read it through and tell me your opinion later, alright?”

“Yes.” Irene agreed as she accepted the scroll.

“I guess that only leaves you...”

“Tristan Castel,” The young man introduced himself with a slight bow. “I am the second son in the third generation of our family of stewards. My family served lord Jurian of house Kreuwell whose fiefdom lay north-west from the capital of Harmarond.

“You are quite far from home Tristan.”

“I don’t have a home any more,” the young man sighed with his gaze cast down. “Kreuwell’s town was among the first ones to be decimated by the plague and most of the survivors were then killed by the abominations and demons that showed up after. Those of us who managed to get away were drifting from one besieged settlement to another.”

“Sounds rough,” the dark elf noted as he studied the man’s face. “I take it you managed to get here by boarding a refugee ship?”

“Yes, but at a great cost. I had to sell off most of what I had to afford a spot on one of the last ships and once we got here, we found… well, this.”

“Did Quentin explain what your job would entail?”

“He did, or at least I think he did his best to do so,” Tristan nodded. “If I understand it right, then you are a newly landed noble in need of a steward to help you manage the everyday occurrences and requests that may come from your people.”

“That’s the gist of it. To be honest, I like to keep myself busy with my arcane studies and crafts, but with all the things that came up recently, there’s little time for anything of the sort. So, I need someone to better organize things and to help outsource whatever can be managed without me. That would be your job. Here’s a contract detailing your duties and whatever privileges come with the position. Have a look at it and think it through.” Regis explained while handing over the scroll to the young man.

“I believe everything’s fine with my contract,” Irene spoke up from the side as the group neared the spellcasters’ guild. “The one thing I didn’t find in it was about my wares.”

“Your wares?”

“Yes,” she cleared her throat as if trying to gather her courage. “I understand that the shop’s main wares would be enchanted items, magic scrolls and potions, but what about anything else I could procure for sale?”

“That would be up to you,” the dark elf answered with a calm tone. “I provide the shop and what I specified as the main wares. Anything else you procure for sale is your own business as long as it isn’t banned by the law, or lowers the shop’s reputation. It’s your investment, so it’s your responsibility.”

“I see,” Irene said with a wide smile. “Thank you, milord. I’ll try to get wares befitting your shop. As for the share of the income I’d take, I believe that five percent would be appropriate.”

“Likewise,” Nina joined into the conversation. “Your contract is clear-cut regarding my area of authority and my duties, so I have nothing to add in that regard.”

“Five percent,” Regis mulled over the number. “Are you sure?”

“It’s around the standard, milord,” Nina said near immediately. “But if you find it too high…”

“No,” the spell weaver shook his head. “I’m not that well versed in these matters, but I thought that you would ask for a higher number.”

“In other times we would”, Irene admitted. “But your lordship is planning to sell arcane wares that are always in high demand. They’re almost guaranteed to sell well after things get somewhat back to normal.”

“Indeed,” Nina agreed. “Whether the royal army, the nobility or other merchants, magic-related wares will always be highly sought after, not to mention their high standard price. Even a five percent take from that would equal the seven or ten percent we would get from regular trade goods. As for me; Sir Quentin explained that I would mostly deal with ordinary goods for your settlement and broker enchantment orders on your behalf. Those tend to bring in good coin.”

“Fine,” Regis agreed in the end. “I’ll add the percentage number to the contract and we can sign it before going back home.”

Saying that he stopped at a nearby stall for a moment to pull out his inkwell and quill. After writing the five percent into the space he left on the contracts, both women signed their respective scrolls before he too marked it with his name. The black ink lines lit up with a deep amber glow for a few seconds as a sign of the contract being accepted by the Heart.

“I guess that’s it,” he sighed. “What about you Tristan? Did you find anything out of line?”

“Nothing milord,” the man shook his head slightly. “I’m ready to sign it if you are.”

“Alright.” Regis handed over the quill, watching as his future steward signed the parchment before he too did the same.

The contract lit up like the ones before and the dark elf rolled it up before putting it away into his satchel.

“Shall we get going?” Chera asked after watching the events unfold.

“I’ll have to bring my people back first, then I’ll come back for you if that’s alright.”

“That’s fine,” the spellcaster agreed. “I still have a few things to talk about with Salvador anyway. I’ll wait for you here.”

Regis stepped into the middle of the gateway, tightly surrounded by the rest of the group so they could all leave at once. As the runes lit up and the bright light swallowed them, the world seemed to shift for a moment and they found themselves in Thorn Vale. Everyone heaved in some fresh air while fighting off the nausea that assaulted them, Quentin doing his best to help the group get hold of themselves.

The dark elf leaned to the side of the gazebo with his eyes closed, trying to meditate to quickly regain his spent arcana. A bit over ten minutes later he was ready to head back to Hunor, the gateway’s light pulling him across the wast distance in a flash. The port town was as busy as before, a constant crowd of busy refugees swirling by as the dark elf shook off the nausea caused by the teleportation. He walked over to the entrance of the guild and knocked on the door. It was soon opened and a familiar face greeted him.

“Welcome back lad.” Salvador said as he ushered in the spell caster.

“Hey Salvador, how’s it going?”

“How do you think?” the man sighed. “Verhen is smothering the entire town with his foolishness and we’re no exception.”

“Why do you think I’m leaving?” Chera asked from the table she was sitting at.

“I know,” Salvador sighed even deeper. “We should all do the same, but I still want to stick around and recruit new blood from the refugees. You know we need as many of us as possible after all that happened”

“And what will you do after that?” Regis asked as he sat down across Chera. “Will you leave as well?”

“We’ll see,” the spellcaster said. “If Verhen keeps acting like this then I might just pass down the leadership to someone else and follow Chera inland. But enough gloomy talk for now. Tell me about your new settlement. I hear you’ve been recruiting quite a lot of folks lately.”

“Well, it’s getting along, although a bit slowly. We managed to build two farmsteads and a greenhouse where my companion can grow her alchemy-related plants. Most of the houses were in a fairly decent condition so we only had to mend them a bit.”

“Sounds good so far. What about your Landwaker? Do you have one?”

“We do, but it’s still young and in need of nurturing. My friends usually spend an hour every evening just sitting around it and casting the ‘growth-boost’ spell on it.”

“Good,” Chera nodded approvingly. “Landwakers are the heart of every settlement and must be treated as such. Otherwise, you’ll suffer when it comes to magic.”

“What about supplies,” Salvador questioned the young man. “Do you have enough for your people? It’s been getting troublesome here again as the town got filled to the brim with refugees again.”

“We planted crops on pretty much day one, so after a fair amount of ‘growth-boost’ spell cast on them, we had a decent enough harvest to last up until things settle down a bit. After that, I don’t know. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get a steady food source thanks to the farms.”

“Alright,” Chera interrupted the spell caster from further interrogating the dark elf. “We should get going. I still have to meet with the people of East Fork and I’m sure young Regis has things to attend to as well.”

“Fine, go on then. Leave this old man at the mercy of that crazed noble.” Salvador shooed them away in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, enough with you,” the woman headed towards the door. “Verhen doesn’t have the guts to do anything to you or Galen and you know it.”

“It was good to see you again lad,” the spell caster shrugged off Chera’s words, turning toward the dark elf. “Take care of yourself out there.”

“I will Salvador. You too take care.”

As the two left the guild building, they walked over to the gateway in an awkward silence. In the end, it was Chera who broke the silence as they stepped onto the portal stone.

“Despite his rough outer look, Salvador has a soft heart. Too soft for his good. He should be fine though. They all should be fine.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Regis asked after hearing the woman trying to convince herself.

“No. I am tired of this town and that fool as well. Anyway, if you would be so kind…” She tapped the rune-wrought stone floor with her feet.

The young spell weaver shook his head slightly as he activated his amulet, making the runes of the gateway lit up. They disappeared in a flash of light only to reappear in East Fork. Scholars’ Square seemed to be a lot livelier than before with actual people walking about instead of the previous eerie silence ad emptiness Regis had seen. When the two appeared in a flash of light, the people walking about suddenly stopped with an obvious nervousness on their faces.

“Halt!” Someone called out to them, turning out to be a patrolling guard.

“This feels bloody familiar.” The dark elf sighed, but things turned out differently than they did back in Hunor.

“Welcome back to East Fork sir mage,” the soldier greeted him with a relieved tone. “Forgive me for not recognising you immediately, but that light was quite strong.”

“It’s alright,” Regis tried to reassure the soldier. “I see life is finally returning to the town.”

“It is,” the man nodded with a wide smile. “About a hundred new refugees arrived throughout the following days after the royal army arrived to help secure the surrounding lands, so East Fork became quite busy once again. The new mayoress is doing her best to make sure that the people have a place to sleep and food to eat, but there’s still plenty to do around. Ah, forgive me. I just noticed that you have company.”

“Yes,” the spell weaver turned toward her passenger. “This is Lady Chera, a knowledgeable and powerful spellcaster. She heard about East Fork’s lack of spellcasters and decided to come by and hopefully settle down at the guild to teach the new generation.”

“I see,” the guardsman nodded towards Chera as he listened attentively. “I’m sure that mayoress Tine will welcome you with opened arms, milady.”

“And I’m sure we’ll be able to make an arrangement that benefits East Fork as much as it does the guild.” Chera answered in a similarly cordial manner.

“Do you want to head out and meet with this mayoress or do you want to meet Elder Derris first?” Regis asked as he looked toward the entrance of the guild building.

“It is only fair to greet him first since he’s the caretaker of the guild and the young ones.” The woman agreed before they said their goodbyes to the guardsman.