The informant was a dock worker named Garrett—early forties, weathered skin, nervous eyes that kept darting to the exits. He sat across from Ronan in a back room of The Drunk Golem's ruins, hands wrapped around a mug of ale he wasn't drinking.
"I have information," Garrett said for the third time. "Good information. About Cult shipments coming through the docks. But I need guarantees first."
"What kind of guarantees?" Ronan asked patiently.
"Protection. For my family." Garrett's hands tightened on the mug. "My wife, my two daughters. They live in the lower quarter, and if the Cult finds out I talked..." He didn't finish the sentence.
Kaelen, observing from the corner, understood the man's fear. The Cult's reputation for dealing with informants was well-established and gruesome.
"The Shadow Hunter network can provide safe houses," Ronan offered. "Temporary relocation until the threat passes."
"Temporary?" Garrett laughed bitterly. "The Cult doesn't forget. They'll be hunting my family for years. I need permanent protection, new identities, enough money to start over somewhere far from Eredor."
"That's expensive," Ronan said carefully. "The network's resources aren't unlimited."
"Neither is my courage." Garrett finally took a drink, his hand shaking slightly. "Look, I know what you're fighting. I've seen what that corruption does to people—saw my own brother transformed into one of those shadow things because he couldn't pay the Cult's 'protection' fee. I want to help. But not at the cost of my family."
Ronan glanced at Kaelen, a silent question in his eyes. Kaelen moved forward, joining the conversation.
"What information do you have?" he asked Garrett.
"The Cult is bringing in a major shipment next week. Not just supplies—something big. I overheard the loading supervisors talking about 'special cargo' and 'Lord Marcus's prize.' They're tripling security and routing it through channels that avoid customs inspection."
"Marcus's prize," Kaelen repeated. Could it be related to Hearteater? Or another piece of his larger plan? "Do you know what the cargo is?"
"No. But I know when it's arriving, which berth it's using, and which warehouse they're moving it to." Garrett met his eyes. "That information is worth protecting my family. Isn't it?"
Kaelen thought about resource allocation, about the Shadow Hunter network's limited capacity, about the dozens of people who needed help every day. Then he thought about his own family—gone now, destroyed by circumstances beyond his control. He thought about having a chance to save them and being told the cost was too high.
"Yes," he said firmly. "It is."
Ronan's eyebrows rose slightly. "Kaelen—"
"We'll protect them," Kaelen continued. "Not just temporary safe houses. Full relocation, new identities, the works. Give us the information, and I personally guarantee your family's safety."
"You can't guarantee that," Ronan said quietly. "You don't have the authority."
"Then I'll get it. Or I'll pay for it myself." Kaelen looked at Garrett. "I don't know what a life is worth in coin, but I know it's worth more than letting your family die because we were counting copper."
Garrett stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll trust you." He pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Everything I know is here. Dates, times, locations, security details. Use it well."
Ronan took the paper, scanning it quickly. His expression shifted from skeptical to surprised. "This is... detailed. Very detailed."
"I've been paying attention for months," Garrett said. "Waiting for someone trustworthy enough to share it with. Guess you're it."
After Garrett left—escorted by two Shadow Hunters to begin arranging his family's protection—Ronan rounded on Kaelen.
"That was reckless," he said, though his tone was more concerned than angry. "You just committed network resources without authorization. Selene won't be pleased."
"Then she can be displeased," Kaelen replied. "I'm not letting that man's family die because we're too busy calculating cost-benefit ratios."
"It's not about ratios. It's about sustainability. We have limited resources, Kaelen. If we promise protection to every informant, every witness, every civilian who helps us, we'll bankrupt ourselves within months."
"Then we find more resources. Take on more contracts, request more funding, something. But we don't—" Kaelen's voice rose, then deliberately lowered. "We don't tell people that their lives are worth less than our operational budget."
"That's idealism," Ronan said, but there was something approving in his expression. "The world doesn't run on idealism."
"Maybe it should." Kaelen moved to the window, looking out at Eredor's streets. "Marcus wins if we become like him—calculating, ruthless, willing to sacrifice anyone for the 'greater good.' The only real difference between us and the Cult is supposed to be that we actually care about people. If we lose that..."
"We become what we're fighting," Ronan finished. "I know. But Kaelen, caring isn't enough. Resources, strategy, hard choices—these matter too."
"I'm not saying they don't. I'm saying they can't be the only things that matter." Kaelen turned back. "Talk to Selene. Make the case for protecting Garrett's family. If she refuses, I'll find another way."
"She won't refuse," a voice said from the doorway. Selene herself entered, having apparently been listening. "Though I should, on principle. You overstepped badly, Kaelen."
"I know," Kaelen said, not apologizing.
"But you were also right." Selene moved to the table, studying Garrett's intelligence. "This information is valuable enough to justify the expenditure. And more than that..." She looked at Kaelen. "We need people to trust us. Word spreads. If it becomes known that the Shadow Hunters honor their promises, we'll get more cooperation. More intelligence. More allies."
"So you'll approve the protection?"
"Already did. I had people ready to move the moment Garrett gave us the information." Selene's lips quirked slightly. "You think I'd let a valuable informant and his family become Cult casualties? I'm ruthless, not stupid."
"Then why let me make the promise?" Kaelen asked.
"Because I wanted to see what you'd do. Whether you'd calculate the value or follow your principles." Selene sat, studying him with those unsettling silver eyes. "You're becoming a leader, Kaelen. Whether you want to or not. People follow you—not because of Soulrender, but because of choices like the one you just made. That's valuable. Possibly more valuable than any intelligence Garrett provided."
Kaelen didn't know what to say to that.
"But," Selene continued, her tone sharpening, "don't make promises you can't keep. And don't commit resources without consulting me first. Understood?"
"Understood," Kaelen agreed.
Selene nodded and departed, leaving Kaelen alone with Ronan again.
"She's right, you know," Ronan said after a moment. "You are becoming a leader. It suits you."
"I don't want to be a leader. I want to survive long enough to not be a shadowfiend."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive goals." Ronan clapped his shoulder. "Come on. Let's study Garrett's intelligence and figure out how to intercept Marcus's 'prize.' Because if you're going to make grand gestures about protecting people, you'd better be prepared to follow through."
As they bent over maps and schedules, planning the interception, Kaelen felt the weight of his promise settling on his shoulders. Garrett trusted him. Garrett's family depended on him. And if he failed...
*Responsibility,* Soulrender observed. *You are accumulating it like armor. Do you realize how heavy it will become?*
"Yes," Kaelen replied silently. "But it's the only armor worth wearing."
*Perhaps. We shall see if you can bear the weight.*
Kaelen thought he probably could. Because the alternative—becoming someone who calculated the value of lives like they were coins—was a weight he couldn't bear.
Some prices were worth paying. Some promises were worth keeping.
Even if they cost everything.