The week had been long and filled with a secret, frantic energy. Every spare moment was spent in the dusty shed, practicing, pushing, learning. Now, with a pouch heavy with silver and a head full of plans, August rode Roach towards Drium.
He held a plain dagger in his hand, one he had taken from his father's tool shed. It was simple iron, with a leather-wrapped hilt and no decoration. A practical, ugly thing. But in his mind, it was magnificent.
He focused on the memory of a dagger he had once seen in a blacksmith's shop window. It had a hilt carved like a snarling wolf, with tiny ruby eyes.
A silver crossguard was shaped like spreading wings, and intricate runes were etched into the gleaming steel of the blade.
He held the ugly dagger and pushed the image from his mind into his magic. The familiar heat flooded his chest, and the white patterns on his palms glowed faintly in the morning sun.
The energy flowed into the dagger.
The leather wrap seemed to melt away, replaced by the dark, carved wood of the wolf's head. The simple iron crossguard broadened, sprouting illusory silver wings. The dull blade shimmered, and the ghostly shapes of runes danced along its surface.
He held it up, turning it in the light. It was perfect. A work of art. An adventurer's weapon. He grinned, feeling a surge of pride. He had gotten better.
Much better.
Over the past week of constant practice, he had learned the rules of the game. He had started by trying to turn the dagger into a flower, a coin, a dead bird. The illusions worked, but they were fragile.
They shattered after a few minutes, the magic dissolving like mist. But when he changed the dagger into another dagger, the illusion was strong. It held.
The closer the illusion was to the real object's shape and nature, the less energy it took to maintain. It was a lock and a key. You couldn't just turn a rock into a loaf of bread and expect it to last.
But you could make a cheap, ugly rock look like a rare, expensive gem. The illusion was more stable because a rock was still a rock.
A grin stretched across his face. "Did you see that, you old pervert?" he shouted at the empty blue sky.
"I'm getting good at this. Really good. I bet I could turn your celestial panties a whole new color from down here. Maybe a nice, dirty brown?"
The only reply was the gentle clip-clop of Roach's hooves on the dirt road. August chuckled. He was learning to master her gift without any of her help.
The thought was deeply satisfying.
He arrived in Drium as the morning market was starting to buzz. The smells of baking bread, raw fish, and unwashed bodies filled the air. He tied Roach to a post near the stables and walked into the town square, his eyes scanning the crowd.
He saw her almost immediately. Anna was sitting near the fountain, her back against the cool stone. She held a small wooden bowl in her lap, her expression carefully blank and pitiful.
A perfect little beggar girl.
Their eyes met across the square. He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Anna held his gaze for a second, then she slowly stood up, dumped the few copper coins from her bowl into a pocket, and began walking away, disappearing into a side street.
It was his cue.
He gave her a ten-second lead before following, melting into the flow of the crowd.
She led him to the same narrow, stinking alley as last time. When he entered, she was waiting in the shadows, her arms crossed.
"You know," August said, leaning against the grimy wall with a dramatic sigh. "I was thinking. If you were a vegetable, you'd be a 'cute-cumber'."
Anna stared at him for a solid second. Then her serious expression cracked, and a loud, snorting laugh escaped her.
"A cute-cumber?" she choked out, covering her mouth as she giggled. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
August's heart did a funny little flip. He watched her laugh, her whole body shaking with it. The dirt on her cheek couldn't hide the vibrant life in her eyes. In the dim alley, with her tangled hair catching the sliver of light from the street, she wasn't a beggar.
She's beautiful. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to keep her safe, to make sure she never had to sit by that fountain with an empty bowl again.
"You're an idiot, August," she said, her laughter finally fading. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and her entire demeanor shifted.
The laughter was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. It was time for business.
"Let's start with your heat," she said, her voice low and crisp.
"The guards are no longer a primary concern. I spent the last two days near the main barracks. Your description: 'male, late teens, brown hair, smooth-talker, smells of ginger'; was on the assignment board for exactly one day. By yesterday morning, it was gone, replaced by a notice about illegal gambling dens. The noblewoman's complaint has been officially filed, but it's low priority. They're not actively looking."
August nodded, used to her thoroughness. Lots of coin in gambling. I'll look into it later.
"Now, the general atmosphere," she continued, her gaze unwavering.
"The talk in the noble quarter is still the Lord Valerius scandal. It's a useful distraction. The more they gossip about his stable boy, the less they remember a certain wine swindler. But the bigger news is the war with the Northern Kingdoms. A royal courier arrived yesterday under heavy guard. Since then, the whispers about conscription have gotten louder."
Conscription. The word was a cold stone in his gut. Being dragged away to die in the snow was not on his list of life goals. But it was a problem for another day. He pushed it down.
"Go on"
"I overheard two merchants at the tavern. They're worried the crown will start levying 'war taxes' on goods, or worse, start pulling farmhands and laborers for the army. This means two things for us: people will have less coin for luxuries, but they'll be more desperate. And food prices are definitely rising. Good for your family, but it makes the common folk tense."
At least dad will be smiling this harvest. Some good news for his family, though people walking with lighter purses wasn't anything good for him.
"Opportunities?"
Anna shook her head. "The wine market is dead for us. I checked the manifests at the river docks. The cheap southern vintage shipment is delayed by at least a month. The only wine in town is from the Sunstone vineyards. The margins are too thin, and the merchants are too sharp. The Stallion's Vigor scam is officially retired."
She paused, letting the finality of it sink in. Then, a sharp, predatory gleam entered her eyes.
"However, I've located a new potential revenue stream. The nobles in the Azure District have a designated refuse pile two blocks east of the Silver Spire. They dispose of household items every three days. I've been monitoring it.
"I've seen discarded silk gowns with minor tears, silver-plated goblets that are dented, even a small, jewel-encrusted mirror with a crack in it. To them, it's trash. To the wives of merchants or common folk, it's a chance to own a piece of the high life for a fraction of the cost."
August stared at her, a slow grin spreading across his face. She hadn't just found a pile of junk. She had assessed the market, identified the target demographic, and presented a complete business plan.
"Anna, you're a genius."
"I know," she said, allowing a small smirk. "We could clean it up, sell it as slightly damaged high-end goods. We could make a decent bit of silver."
"No," August said, his grin widening. "Not decent. We can make a fortune." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to an excited whisper. "I'm staying in town for the weekend. We're going to plan this right. I have a new trick. A very special trick that's going to change everything."
Anna's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He saw the flicker of questions in her eyes,where would he stay, what was the trick, but she didn't ask. She trusted him. "You're staying?"
"I'll find a room at an inn," he said, waving off the concern. "The important thing is this new trick. It's going to make our little pile of trash look like the king's own treasure chest."
Anna studied his face, her expression a mix of curiosity and calculation. She had seen his confidence before, but this was different. This was a deeper, more solid belief in his own power. It was the confidence of a man holding a hidden ace.
"Alright, August," she said, a small, intrigued smile finally playing on her lips. "I'm in. A fortune sounds good."
"It will be," he promised, his mind already racing.
"Now, show me this garbage heap. It's time to go treasure hunting."