Chapter 24: The Price of a Corpse

Midday at the Adventurer’s Guild brought a chaotic wave of shouting mercenaries, clinking coin pouches, and parchment rustling. Zevryn stood before the central dispatch board, his pale eyes drifting lazily over the low-tier Silver contracts as if looking for nothing in particular.

"Working hard, or just avoiding the real work?"

A smooth, calculated voice broke the ambient noise beside him. Zev turned his head slightly to find the female scholar standing there, her brass-rimmed spectacles catching the dim light. Her professional academic facade was neatly ironed, but her posture carried the tense, coiled energy of a predator trying to look casual.

Zev knew she had tailed him from three streets away, her footsteps muffled by magical dampening wards. He had simply let her play out her little game.

"Just looking," Zev replied flatly.

The woman offered a faint, practiced smile. Her name was Cassandra, a mid-tier arcane researcher specializing in pre-cataclysm structural glyphs.

"It’s noisy in here. Would you care for some tea or coffee? There’s a quiet parlor just down the lane."

Zev gave a slow, indifferent nod. "Lead the way."

They secured a corner booth in a dimly lit, semi-private alcove of a nearby merchant tea-house. Steam rose from two small ceramic cups resting on the scarred wood between them. Cassandra didn't waste time with small talk; she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her eyes locking onto the drow’s pale gaze.

"Let’s cut to the chase," Cassandra said, lowering her voice to a discreet murmur. "I know you noticed the rune back at the decoy vault. There is a true tomb beneath it. Are you planning to go alone?"

Zev took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her sweat beneath her robes. "I might."

"Don't be a fool," Cassandra countered, her tone sharpening with false camaraderie. "The hazards down there are leagues beyond a nest of Chitin-Stalkers. I have a group of five operatives ready. If you want, you can join us."

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Zev set his cup down with a soft click. "I’ll join. But fifty gold pieces is my fee."

Cassandra’s hand froze mid-gesture. She nearly choked, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief as she stared at him, her fingers twitching as if she were about to throw her cup of coffee straight across the table. Fifty gold pieces was an exorbitant sum, enough to buy a luxury estate or hire a squad of veteran mercenaries for a month.

"Fifty gold?!" she hissed under her breath, fighting to keep her voice down. "That is highway robbery for a single expedition!"

Zev leaned back, his face a mask of absolute, unbothered coldness. "It is a dangerous tomb," he replied evenly. "I figure if I die down there, I'd better clear my debts and make sure my affairs are paid off beforehand, right?"

Cassandra stared at him hard, searching his pale, expressionless features for a trace of hesitation or mockery. Finding none, she swallowed her anger, realizing that compared to what their superiors were willing to pay to ensure the drow was disposed of permanently, fifty gold was a minor administrative expense.

She reached into her heavy robe, retrieved a heavy canvas pouch, and slammed it down onto the table with a dull, metallic thud.

"Deal," Cassandra whispered, her lips curling into a tight, venomous smile. "Meet us at the western gate. Two weeks from now, right at the stroke of evening."

Without waiting for a response, Cassandra stood abruptly, grabbed her satchel, and swept out of the tea-house, eager to report her success.

Zev sat alone in the dim alcove. He picked up his cup, took another unhurried sip, and let a cold, razor-thin smile touch his lips. Fifty gold pieces of their own money, he thought. How generous.

Later that night, in the discreet second-floor safehouse behind the merchant square, Cassandra stood before the veteran guard who had accompanied them on the expedition. He pulled her close by the waist, his hands roaming over her robes.

"Well?" the guard asked, his voice low against her ear. "Did he take the bait?"

Cassandra let out a breathless laugh, burying her fingers in his hair. "He asked for fifty gold pieces."

The guard pulled back, his brow furrowing in shock. "What?! Fifty gold? And you agreed?!"

"Of course I agreed," Cassandra smirked, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He'll take the coin straight to his grave anyway. Once he springs the true traps and clears the vault for us, he'll be nothing more than cold meat in the dark."

The guard grunted, a dark grin spreading across his face. "All right then. Let the fool dig his own grave."

With a low chuckle, they tumbled onto the bed, their conversation dissolving entirely into the frantic, muffled sounds of physical intimacy.