Chapter 108 – The Wings of the Gray Wind.

Morning at the Lower Cauldrons Estate began without the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

Diana ate her breakfast in the ground-floor kitchen, seated at the polished wooden table upon the new wool rug. The ribs on the right side of her chest were almost entirely knit, and mobility in her left arm had returned to normal after days of resting on the feather mattress.

But the silence of the house continued to gnaw at her.

Diana had opened the faction vault panel twice since dawn. The figure held steady at 385 Silver Coins, with no new withdrawals logged by Rhea or Kael.

Seeing the static balance gave mathematical certainty that the gold remained untouched, but it answered none of the real questions hammering inside the Commander's head:

Had Kael's broken arm healed without lasting damage to the bone?

Had Aurelia-Elysia managed to keep potion production running with the new vials from Master Boros?

And Rhea... was the wolf girl managing to keep her composure leading the faction without Diana around?

Diana finished her mug of coffee and rose from the chair.

She was not going to wait two months until Level 50 to establish a line of contact with the Bastion. She needed a private, secure courier route that bypassed the slow, corrupt hands of official border posts.

She locked the iron gate of the house and walked to the eastern plaza to meet Boran.

***

Boran was sitting on a wooden bench near the hay warehouses, sharpening the tip of a hunting arrow. The old tracker raised his good amber eye when he saw the Commander approach in her black leather coat, the amethyst circlet set between her horns.

“You're walking without a limp today,” Boran commented, pocketing his whetstone.

“The ribs have set.” Diana stopped before him, straight to the point. “Boran, I need a clandestine courier. Someone capable of flying up the mountain rift, crossing the border to the Ivory Citadel in the Second Circle, delivering a letter, and returning with an answer in less than a week.”

Boran scratched his sparse gray beard, pondering for a few moments.

“A courier on foot dies in the gas vents before climbing five hundred meters,” the old man said. “But there is someone operating in the north sector... Maron, the Courier of the Gray Wind. He is a Level 50 winged demon. He has reinforced feathered wings and carries a diplomatic free-courier insignia bought from a ruined noble. He uses thermal drafts of hot air to soar through the mountain's natural chimneys straight to the Second Circle in under two days.”

“Where is he located?”

“At the top of the Wind Tower, behind the grain market.” Boran stood up from the bench. “I'll take you there.”

***

The Wind Tower was a circular stone structure twenty meters high, perched at the precipice edge where the valley's hot breeze surged in constant thermal currents.

At the top of the open granite platform, sitting on a wooden crate eating dried nuts, was Maron.

He was a lean, gray-skinned man clad in a light leather doublet and fitted trousers. From his back protruded two pairs of large wings layered with dense, ash-gray feathers, bound by restraint straps while grounded. Beside him rested a sealed, waterproof leather satchel secured with a lead clasp.

Boran made the introductions with few words, and Maron raised golden, avian eyes to look at Diana.

The courier took in the girl's poised bearing, the noble cut of her coat, and the obsidian horns with golden grooves, recognizing a figure who did not belong to the outpost's common rabble.

“An ascent flight to the Ivory Citadel, with a return descent...” Maron spoke, his voice carrying a light, birdlike whistle. “The thermal air currents are unstable near the shale ceiling because of that eruption last week. The risk of crossing paths with Beelzebub's aerial patrols is high.”

“I didn't ask about wind difficulties, Maron,” Diana said, retrieving a thick sheet of parchment and a portable inkpot from her pouch. “I asked your price to deliver a sealed scroll to the Citadel's south sector, wait twenty-four hours for a response, and return the letters straight into my hand.”

Maron spread a thin smile showing needle-sharp teeth.

“Fifteen silver coins for the full round-trip service with blood secrecy.”

Fifteen silver coins was a small fortune for an ordinary courier. But Diana knew the flight speed of a Level 50 winged demon and the guarantee of discretion were worth every single coin.

“Deal,” Diana said without hesitation.

She drew ten silver coins from her pouch and placed them into Maron's hand:

“Ten coins upfront now. The remaining five will be paid the moment you touch down in my courtyard with the written reply in hand.”

Maron stowed the ten silver coins in the inner pocket of his doublet with a respectful nod. “Agreement accepted, Commander. Write your message.”

***

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[FULL FINANCIAL AUDIT]

Previous Balance: 385 Silver Coins (38.5 Gold Coins).

Border Air Courier Advance (Maron): -10 Silver Coins.

[NEW ABSOLUTE NET WORTH: 375 SILVER COINS (37,500 Bronze / 37.5 GOLD COINS!)]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Three hundred and seventy-five silver coins held securely in the faction vault.

***

Diana set the parchment atop the wooden crate at the tower's summit, took up the glass quill, and began writing in her steady, precise script:

“To Rhea, Kael, Aurelia-Elysia, and Seraphina.

The fall down the collapse did not kill me. I crossed the Abyss of the Exiles and established a fortified base at the Lower Cauldrons Estate, in the Third Circle.

My body has completed its racial adaptation successfully. I am whole and conducting hunts in the surrounding territory.

Orders for the Bastion:

1. Maintain the gravity training routine in the courtyard. Kael, do not strain your arm against heavy impacts until the bone is one hundred percent set.
2. Aurelia, keep potion shipments from Stall Fourteen and the Silver Legion contract running on schedule.
3. Seraphina, use the new resonance gem to stabilize the grimoire pages.
4. Rhea: maintain your resolve. Command of the Second Circle is yours until my return. Do not commit the stupidity of trying to climb down the collapsed rift.

Write out the Bastion's current status and hand it to this courier within twenty-four hours.

I will be back before the end of the season.

Signed: Diana, Commander of Arcane Greed.”

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Diana folded the parchment carefully, melted a bead of black sealing wax at the edge with a spark of mana, and pressed the tip of her obsidian claw into the hot wax, leaving the unmistakable stamp of her anatomy etched into the seal.

She handed the scroll to Maron.

The courier secured the document inside the waterproof lead case strapped to his chest, cinched his leg bindings, and walked to the edge of the tower platform.

Maron unfurled his two pairs of gray wings with a rustle of feathers.

With a single thrust of his powerful legs, the winged demon cast himself into the air over the chasm. The thermal updrafts surging from the valley caught his wingspan, launching him into a swift, silent ascent toward the dark vaults of the cavern ceiling.

Diana lingered at the rim of the stone tower, the wind whipping the edges of her black leather coat, watching the gray-feathered silhouette until it vanished into the high mist leading to the Second Circle.

In four days, she would have news of her estate and her crew.

Diana adjusted her hood over her horns and turned toward the tower stairs, her mind calm and focused.

The bridge of words had been cast across the Circles. Now, it was time to return to the furnace and resume the hunt.