The walk to the North Sector took forty minutes, giving Renn plenty of time to regret his life choices.
"Remind me again why we can't just teleport there," he asked, stepping over a particularly gross patch of mud that bubbled ominously.
"Because you need to know your territory," Valeria said from where she walked beside him in her feline form, while Princess Lysandra was perched on Renn's shoulder like the world's most judgmental parrot. "A Lord who doesn't know his own land is a Lord who won't survive."
"I know my land; it's a swamp where everything smells bad and everything wants to kill me."
"Overly simplistic, but not entirely inaccurate."
Renn checked his map again, since the iron deposit was clearly marked now as a glowing icon promising real, valuable resources. One point two kilometers didn't sound far on paper, but in swamp terms, it might as well have been a marathon.
"How much do you think is actually there?" he asked.
"The scan estimated between one hundred and fifty to two hundred kilograms, assuming the deposit is accessible and hasn't been contaminated by the swamp environment."
"And if it has been contaminated?"
"Then you have one hundred and fifty kilograms of useless, metal-infused mud."
"Great, I love the optimism."
Princess Lysandra meowed, and Valeria translated without missing a beat:
"Your Highness says pessimism is unbecoming and that you should focus on what you can control."
"I can control my attitude, so I choose despair."
Another meow rang out, sharper this time.
"Your Highness says that is stupid."
"Tell Your Highness that she isn't the one walking through toxic mud for the fifth time this week."
Lysandra's tail flicked against his neck, a clear threat.
"Okay, okay, optimism, I can do optimism," Renn took a breath. "We are going to find the iron, it's going to be worth a fortune, and absolutely nothing will go wrong."
"That isn't optimism, that is denial."
"It's all I've got."
They continued in relative silence for another ten minutes, a time Renn used to practice what Valeria had taught him about situational awareness: scanning the environment, noting escape routes, and identifying potential threats, although mostly he just noticed that everything looked equally terrible.
"Hey, Valeria?"
"Yes, Substitute Lord?"
"When you said I needed to reach level ten to survive in neutral territory..."
"I said minimum level ten, ideally fifteen or higher."
"Right, how do other Lords do it? Leveling up, I mean."
"Combat, primarily, as every victory against threats grants experience proportional to the challenge," Valeria hopped over a fallen log, balancing perfectly despite its slippery surface. "Resource gathering and territorial management also provide experience, but in smaller amounts."
"So basically I need to fight things."
"Correct."
"Things that are probably stronger than me."
"Also correct."
"And not die in the process."
"That would be ideal, yes."
Renn stepped over a root that looked suspiciously like it was trying to grab his ankle.
"You know, when I imagined being a Lord, I thought it would be more... dignified. Less mud, maybe a castle."
"Castles require resources to build and maintain."
"I am aware."
"Resources which you currently lack."
"Also aware."
"Which is why we are walking through mud to find iron."
"The awareness continues."
Valeria's tail twitched with what might have been amusement.
"You are more pragmatic than you seem, Substitute Lord."
"Is that a compliment?"
"An observation."
"I'll take it."
Princess Lysandra purred, a sound that vibrated against Renn's neck and that he had learned to interpret as approval, or at least tolerance of his existence.
The terrain began to change as they approached the marked location; the water became shallower and the trees slightly less rotten. It was still depressing, but marginally less so.
"We are close," Valeria said, her ears twitching. "I detect..."
"Voices," Renn finished, for he could hear them now too: raised voices, arguing voices.
"Three individuals," Valeria confirmed. "Humans, all wearing territorial resonance markers."
"Lords?"
"Yes."
Renn felt his stomach drop.
"In my territory, near my iron deposit."
"It appears so."
"Can we just... go around them?"
"You could, or you could establish your territorial rights," Valeria looked at him with those golden feline eyes. "Which do you think sends a better message?"
Renn knew the answer, he just didn't like it.
"Territorial rights it is."
They stepped out of the treeline into a small clearing where the ground was rocky rather than muddy, and in the center, three figures stood around what was clearly the iron deposit: a dark vein of metal-streaked stone jutting out of the earth at an angle.
And they were definitely arguing.
"...I told you I found it first!"
"Finding it means nothing, idiot! This whole sector is unclaimed!"
"Unclaimed my ass, I've been surveying this area for weeks!"
The first speaker was a guy Renn's age, heavily built, wearing gear that screamed "I have money and I want you to know it," with his armband glowing a blue that indicated the Northern Alliance. The second was a girl, maybe a year older, in practical armor with a sword at her hip, sporting the colors of the Eastern Alliance on her armband. The third was another guy, tall and lanky, with the kind of face that suggested he was used to getting his way; also from the Northern Alliance.
None of them had noticed Renn yet.
"Excuse me," Renn said.
They ignored him.
"EXCUSE ME," he tried again, louder.
The heavy-set guy turned around.
"What?"
"This is my territory and that is my iron deposit."
Silence. Then all three looked at him—really looked at him—and Renn saw their eyes sweep over his mud-stained clothes, his basic gear, and his level two status likely broadcasting from his armband.
The tall guy laughed.
"Your territory? Buddy, this is the Rotten Forest Swamp, nobody claims this dump."
"I claim this dump," Renn said, feeling his jaw tighten. "It's been my territory for two years."
"Two years?" the girl raised an eyebrow. "And you're level two?"
"It's been a hard two years."
"Clearly," the heavy-set guy crossed his arms. "Look, kid, we don't have time for this. The three of us are negotiating resource rights, you can join the discussion or be on your way."
"Negotiating rights to MY resources in MY territory."
"Do you have territorial papers?" the tall guy asked.
Renn pulled up his interface and displayed his territorial claim on the holographic screen which clearly showed: Rotten Forest Swamp, 10 square kilometers, registered to Renn Blackwood.
The three Lords looked at it, then looked at each other.
"Huh," said the girl. "He's actually telling the truth."
"Doesn't matter," the heavy-set guy said. "The Eastern Alliance kicked him out, it's in the notes. He has maybe a month before this whole territory reverts to unclaimed status."
"Bastard, so you do know me. However, for your misfortune, this land is NOT unclaimed NOW," Renn said, hands shaking but keeping his voice steady. "Right now, this minute, it's mine and you are trespassing."
"Trespassing," the tall guy smirked. "Strong word for someone who's level two with zero troops."
"I have troops."
"Sure you do. Where are they, invisible?"
Renn turned to where Valeria was still in her feline form, sitting primly at the treeline with Princess Lysandra beside her.
"Valeria, could you..."
The purple cat stood up and, in a flash of golden light, transformed.
The effect was immediate and total.
The three Lords went completely silent, mouths literally gaping as Valeria walked forward in her humanoid form, her purple crystal armor catching the filtered sunlight, dark hair moving as if in an invisible breeze, and her golden eyes evaluating each of them with professional disinterest.
"Yeah," Renn said. "That was my reaction too."
No one replied; they were too busy staring.
Valeria arrived at Renn's side and stopped, hands clasped behind her back in a formal military stance, and the air around her seemed to shimmer slightly, a pressure that hadn't been there before.
The heavy-set guy swallowed hard.
"That is... that is your troop?"
"One of them, yes."
"She is..." the girl seemed to be struggling to find words. "I've never seen anything like that."
"High-quality summon," the tall guy said, though his voice had lost its earlier confidence. "Very high quality."
"How much did you pay?" asked the heavy-set guy suddenly. "For a mercenary contract like that?"
Renn blinked.
"Mercenary?"
"Obviously," the guy pointed at Valeria. "No level two Lord summons something that powerful. You hired her."
Valeria's expression didn't change, but Renn saw something flicker in her eyes, a message, almost: Play along.
"Right," Renn said. "Hired. With money I definitely have."
"How much?" pressed the tall guy.
"That is between my contractor and me," Valeria said smoothly. Her voice had changed slightly, less formal, more business-like. "My rates are my business."
"Contractor," the girl repeated. "So you're independent?"
"I work for whoever can meet my price."
The three Lords exchanged glances, and Renn could practically see the calculations happening behind their eyes.
"Listen," said the heavy-set guy, his tone shifting to something more conciliatory. "I'm Devon Ironforge, Northern Alliance. These are Marcus Steelheart and Kara Swiftblade. We apologize for the territorial confusion."
"Do you really?" Renn said dryly.
"Absolutely. We didn't realize this sector was actively claimed," Devon's smile was trying too hard. "But now that we are all here, perhaps we could discuss a partnership?"
"What kind of partnership?"
"Resource extraction. The four of us could..."
"I want to make it clear that..." Valeria interrupted, "I am hired support, not a negotiating party."
"Right, of course," Devon turned his attention back to Renn, though his eyes kept drifting toward Valeria. "The four of us could split the iron deposit. You get... let's say thirty percent as the territory holder, and we split the rest for doing the actual extraction work."
"Thirty percent of my own resources," Renn said.
"It's fair considering you don't have the equipment or expertise to extract it yourself," Marcus said. "Unless your mercenary knows mining?"
"My expertise is combat," Valeria said. "Not excavation."
"There you have it," Marcus spread his hands. "We have the tools, the knowledge, and the manpower. You have the territorial claim. Thirty percent is generous."
Renn felt his jaw tighten and looked at Valeria, trying to figure out what to do.
She caught his gaze and did something subtle: a small gesture, barely more than a twitch of her hand, and then she took a step back, creating space between herself and the negotiation.
Your moment, the gesture said. Show them what you can do.
Renn took a breath.
"Thirty percent is an insult."
"It's realistic," Devon said.
"Here is what's realistic," Renn stepped closer to the iron deposit, putting his hand on the dark metal. "This is in my territory. I found it first, the System scan proves it. You three are trespassing, and I am being generous by not having you eliminated immediately."
"Eliminated by who?" Marcus laughed. "Your mercenary? How long can you afford to keep her on contract?"
"Long enough," Renn lied.
"Sure."
"But I'm not unreasonable," Renn continued. "I understand I don't have extraction gear. So here is my offer: I provide the resource location and territorial access, you provide the equipment and labor, and I get sixty percent of everything extracted."
"Sixty?" Devon's voice rose. "That is ridiculous."
"Plus ten percent of whatever you make when you sell your shares."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"You want sixty percent of the raw resources AND a cut of our sales?" Kara said slowly.
"Yes."
"That's not how resource partnerships work," Marcus said.
"That's how it is in my territory."
"You can't possibly think..."
"I think I have something you want and you are on my land without permission," Renn crossed his arms. "You can accept my terms, negotiate better ones, or leave. Those are your options."
Devon looked at Marcus, then at Kara.
"Can we have a minute?"
"Sure."
The three moved to the far side of the clearing, speaking in urgent whispers while Renn stayed by the deposit, trying to look confident and not like his heart was trying to escape his chest.
Valeria walked to his side, still maintaining her mercenary persona.
"Not bad," she said quietly.
"I have no idea what I'm doing."
"They don't know that," she adjusted her stance slightly, making sure to be visible to the arguing Lords. "Though sixty percent plus a sales cut might be aggressive."
"Too aggressive?"
"Depends on how badly they want this iron versus how much effort it would take to find another deposit."
Renn looked at the three Lords; they were arguing but not leaving.
"They're staying."
"Good sign."
"And if they call my bluff on eliminating them?"
"Then I eliminate them and you extract the iron yourself over the next month."
"Can we actually do that?"
"It wouldn't be ideal, but they don't know that either."
The Lords were coming back, Devon's expression tight but controlled.
"Fifty percent of extracted resources," he said. "No sales cut. That is our final offer."
"Fifty-five percent and five percent of sales," Renn countered.
"That is barely better than what we offered first!"
"It's fifteen percent better, actually."
Devon opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at his companions. Kara shrugged and Marcus looked annoyed but nodded.
"Fine," Devon said. "Fifty-five and five. But we're putting this in a System contract."
"Absolutely."
Devon opened his interface and began typing, and a holographic contract formed in the air:
[RESOURCE EXTRACTION AGREEMENT]
[PARTIES: Renn Blackwood (Territory Holder), Devon Ironforge, Marcus Steelheart, Kara Swiftblade]
[RESOURCE: Iron Deposit, North Sector, Rotten Forest Swamp]
[TERMS: - 55% of extracted resources for Blackwood. - 45% divided between Ironforge, Steelheart, Swiftblade. - 5% of gross revenue from sales of non-Blackwood shares to Blackwood. - All parties are responsible for their own extraction costs]
[DURATION: Until deposit is fully extracted or 30 days, whichever comes first]
[BINDING: All parties, enforced by System penalties for non-compliance]
Renn read it twice, looking for tricks.
"Looks good."
He pressed his thumb against the agreement and it glowed blue. Devon, Marcus, and Kara signed as well.
"Pleasure doing business," Devon said with a fake but professional smile.
"Yeah," Renn said. "Sure."
"We'll bring the equipment tomorrow," Kara said. "We start extraction at noon."
"I'll be here."
"With your mercenary?" Marcus asked, eyeing Valeria.
"That depends on if I think I need security."
"We signed a contract."
"And I'm sure you'll honor it," Renn's tone made it clear he wasn't sure at all.
Marcus's expression tightened, but he didn't argue.
"Tomorrow then."
The three Lords left, disappearing back into the trees, and Renn watched them go until he was sure they were out of earshot.
"Damn," he said, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I can't believe that worked."
"You defended your territory and secured favorable terms," Valeria said, her tone returning to its normal formality. "Well done."
"I was making it up as I went along."
"Most negotiation is improvisation based on reading your opponent," she gestured to where the Lords had gone. "They wanted the iron but didn't want the effort of finding another deposit; you recognized that and used it."
"And the mercenary thing?"
"Necessary. If they knew I was a real summon of significant power..." Valeria paused. "Questions would arise. Dangerous questions."
"Would they have tried to hire you away from me?"
"Possibly. Or worse, they would have investigated how a level two Lord obtained such a summon," she looked directly at him. "This way, you are simply a Lord with enough resources to hire good help. Unusual, but not impossible."
Renn walked to the iron deposit and crouched down, touching the dark metal. Real, valuable, his.
"Fifty-five percent plus five percent of sales," he said. "Did I do good?"
"You secured the majority share and residual income. Yes, you did well."
Princess Lysandra, who had been watching from the treeline, trotted over to them and meowed.
"Your Highness approves," Valeria translated. "She says you are learning to use your brain instead of just panicking."
"High praise."
"Coming from Your Highness, it is."
Renn stood up, wiping the dirt from his hands.
"They're going to talk, aren't they? About you, I mean. The mercenary thing won't stay quiet."
"No. But a Lord hiring a powerful mercenary is much less interesting than a Lord somehow summoning beyond his level. Let them gossip about your spending habits rather than your summoning methods."
"Good point," Renn started walking back toward the tower. "Although now I have to pretend I have money to pay you."
"Your Highness's resource allocation covers that fiction if anyone asks."
"It all comes back to her charity, doesn't it?"
Lysandra meowed, a sound that clearly communicated: Obviously, and you should be grateful.
"I am grateful," Renn said quickly. "Very grateful. Extremely grateful."
Another meow, this one satisfied.
They walked in silence for a few minutes while Renn's mind raced, processing everything that had happened: he had negotiated with three higher-level Lords and won, and he had a contract that would give him real, significant resources.
It felt surreal.
"Hey, Valeria?"
"Yes?"
"When they come tomorrow to extract the iron... should I be worried?"
"The System contract has penalties for non-compliance. They would lose contribution points and reputation," Valeria considered. "However, accidents during extraction are possible: equipment failures, miscalculations of resource weight, creative accounting of extracted quantities."
"So I should definitely be worried."
"I will be present during all extraction operations."
"And if they try something?"
"Then they will learn why my rates are so high."
Renn smiled despite his anxiety.
"You're really committing to this mercenary persona."
"It protects us both; them from knowing too much and you from unwanted attention," she looked at him. "Though I must warn you: maintaining this fiction will require coherence. If someone investigates your finances and finds them lacking..."
"I'll have to explain how I'm paying you."
"Correct."
"One problem at a time," Renn decided. "Right now, let's focus on making sure I don't get ripped off on my fifty-five percent."
"Agreed."
They emerged back near the troop tower. Renn's tent looked even more pathetic now that he had secured his first real resource deal, so he would need to upgrade his living situation eventually.
His armband beeped. A message from Devon:
[DEVON IRONFORGE] > Just so you know > People are going to ask about your mercenary > That kind of power isn't cheap > Be ready for questions
"It's already starting," Renn showed Valeria.
"Predictable," she read the message. "But manageable. Wealthy Lords hire expensive help all the time."
Another message, from Kara:
[KARA SWIFTBLADE] > Fair negotiation > Respect > See you tomorrow
And then Marcus:
[MARCUS STEELHEART] > How much are you paying her > Seriously > Might be interested in hiring her for my own operations
Renn felt an unexpected surge of annoyance with that last one.
"He wants to hire you away from me."
"He can try. I am not interested."
"Should I tell him that?"
"No. Let him wonder. Mysterious availability is part of the mercenary mystique."
Renn laughed, closing the messages, and looked at his territory: his soggy, depressing, and recently invaded territory that now had a legitimate resource deal attached.
"We're going to make this work," he said.
"Yes," Valeria agreed. "We will."
Princess Lysandra curled up on her favorite rock and purred, a sound of approval that made the air feel warmer.
Tomorrow they would supervise the extraction, tomorrow news would spread about the mysterious mercenary working for a level two Lord, and tomorrow everything would become more complicated.
But today, he had defended his territory, negotiated a solid deal, and kept his trump cards hidden.
Not bad for someone who lost a fight to a raccoon six months ago.
Not bad at all.