The next morning, Kaelen was a statue of perfect, childlike patience. He sat near the shack's
door, not moving, not playing. He simply... waited.
Elara, his [ASSET: ELARA], was a bundle of nervous energy. The encounter with Mog had
deeply unsettled her. [EMOTIONAL STATE: ANXIOUS (70%), WARY (80%)]
She had spent the last two days reinforcing the "danger" of the outside world, of speaking to
strangers. Kaelen had absorbed it all with placid, wide-eyed nods.
[ANALYSIS: ASSET'S 'PROTECTIVE' PROTOCOLS ARE ELEVATED. A DIRECT REQUEST
TO VISIT 'MOG' WILL BE DENIED.] [SOLUTION: CREATE AN EXTERNAL IMPERATIVE.]
Kaelen waited until the small, hard heel of their last bread loaf was gone. He watched Elara eat
the final crumbs. A few minutes of silence passed.
"Hungry," Kaelen stated.
It was a simple, undeniable fact. It cut through Elara's anxiety with a blade of cold reality. Her
[ANXIOUS (70%)] state was immediately superseded by [GUILT (60%)] and [RESPONSIBILITY
(85%)].
"I know, Kaelen," she said, her voice strained. "I... I will go. To the scrap-heap. Find something."
"Market," Kaelen said. His voice was not demanding. It was a simple, logical correction. The
scrap-heap was low-probability. The market was a guarantee, even if just for spoiled vegetables.
"No. Not... not to Mog's."
"Market," Kaelen repeated. He didn't move. He just looked at her, his yellow eyes holding no
malice, no plea, just simple, immovable fact. We are out of food. Food is at the market.
The stand-off lasted another thirty seconds. Elara broke first.
"Fine," she hissed, her nerves fraying. "Fine! We will go to the other side of the market. We will
not see Mog. And you will not speak. This is the last time, Kaelen. I mean it."
[OBJECTIVE: 'TRANSPORT TO MARKET' - COMPLETE.] [NOTE: ASSET'S STRESS IS
NEARING THRESHOLD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]
Elara, true to her word, dragged Kaelen to the far side of the Rag Market, a muddy expanse
where women and children sifted through piles of refuse for anything edible. She was
deliberately avoiding Mog's stall.
This was an inefficient, but anticipated, complication. Kaelen's [SHADOW'S VEIL] was a tool for
darkness, not a crowded market. He needed a different lever.
"Need... " Kaelen began, his voice small. "Hush, Kaelen!" Elara snapped, digging through a pile
of rotting cabbage leaves.
Kaelen tugged, gently, on her hand. When she looked down, he pointed. Not at Mog. At a dark,
narrow alley between two collapsing shacks.
"Need... " he whispered again, tapping his ragged loincloth.
Elara's expression softened from "frantic" to "exasperated." "Now? Gods... fine. Go. Right there.
Where I can see you. And do not move from that alley."
[OBJECTIVE: 'ELARA'S SUPERVISION' - TEMPORARILY DISABLED.]
Kaelen slipped into the alley. The moment he was out of Elara's line of sight, he moved. He did
not use the main thoroughfare. He used the gaps between the shacks, the rat-runs, the
shadowed spaces he had spent years cataloging.
[MANA: 50/50 -> 48] [ACTIVATING [SHADOW'S VEIL] (LEVEL 1)...]
He was a wisp of grey smoke, moving with an economist's precise lack of wasted motion. He
arrived at the back of Mog's stall thirty seconds later. Mog was haggling with a scavenger over a piece of copper wire.
Kaelen waited. When the scavenger left, grumbling, Kaelen made a sound. A tiny tap-tap-tap on
a rusted piece of sheet metal.
Mog froze. [ASSET: 'ONE-EYE' MOG] [STATUS: CURIOUS (85%) -> WARY (90%), ALARMED
(60%)]
The old man's single good eye swiveled, not to the front of his stall, but to the shadows behind
it. He saw nothing.
"Wisp?" he rasped, his voice barely audible.
Kaelen let the [SHADOW'S VEIL] flicker for half a second. Mog's eye caught the movement—a
child's small, grey hand motioning him closer.
Mog's face, already a roadmap of grime and wrinkles, tightened. [STATUS: FEARFUL (30%)]
He glanced around. The market was loud. No one was watching. He shuffled to the back of his
tarp.
"What do you want?" he growled. "You can't be here. She's not with you."
Kaelen looked up at him from the shadows. "Red-Rustlers," he whispered.
The name hit Mog like a punch. [STATUS: ALARMED (80%)] [THREAT: GANG (HIGH)]
Mog's hand instinctively went to a knife at his belt. "Get out. I don't deal in that. Get out!"
"Gutter-Fang," Kaelen continued, his voice flat. "Silk-Man. Old Pier. Tonight."
Mog stopped breathing. His one good eye bulged, the black pupil shrinking to a pinprick. This
wasn't a rumor. This was suicide. This was information that could start a war, or end one. This
was... valuable.
[STATUS: FEARFUL (75%)] [STATUS: GREEDY (80% -> 95%)]
"How...?" Mog choked out, then shook his head. He knew better than to ask. "What... what do
you want?"
"Three," Kaelen said. "Silver."
Mog flinched as if struck. Three silver? Not coppers. Three silver bars. It was a fortune. It was
more than this child should even know existed.
"You're insane," Mog hissed.
"Blue stuff," Kaelen added. One final, precise detail.
Mog's resolve crumbled. He knew. He had heard rumors of the 'blue stuff'—a new, potent drug.
This was real.
"You'll get us both killed, wisp," he rasped. But his hand was already moving, slipping under his
table, into a hidden box. "Look," he snarled, "I... I can't. Not here. Not silver."
Kaelen simply stared. The cold, yellow, unblinking eyes said everything. I have the product. You
will meet the price.
"Gods... damn... you," Mog whispered. He looked left. He looked right. He grabbed a moldy
hunk of bread from his table. "Woman!" he yelled. Elara, at the far end of the market, jumped
and looked over, her face pale with fear. "Come get your bread! And keep this... thing... on a
leash!"
As Elara, panicked, began rushing toward them, Mog turned back to the shadows. His hand
was shaking. "This is poison, you know," he spat, his voice a desperate whisper. "You're dealing
in poison."
He pressed a small, surprisingly heavy leather pouch into Kaelen's hand. Kaelen's fingers
closed around it. It was exactly three small, oblong bars.
[TRANSACTION COMPLETE] [CAPITAL GAIN: 3x SILVER BARS] [REVENUE (YTD): 3
SILVER, 20 COPPER]
"Stay away from me," Mog hissed, just as Elara ran up, grabbing Kaelen's arm. "I'm so sorry,
Mog, he—" "Just take it," Mog growled, shoving the bread into her chest. "And get out." Elara, once again confused, terrified, and clutching a "payment" she didn't understand, dragged
Kaelen away.
Kaelen allowed himself to be pulled. The heavy pouch was already hidden in the deepest folds
of his loincloth. His [SHADOW'S VEIL] deactivated. [MANA: 44/50]
He looked back. Mog was watching them go, his one good eye wide with a new, profound
emotion.
[ASSET: 'ONE-EYE' MOG] [RELATIONSHIP LEVEL: 3 (HIGH-VALUE SOURCE)] [STATUS:
FEARFUL (85%), DEPENDENT (70%)]
Mog was no longer just a client. He was Kaelen's first dependent asset. He was terrified, but he
was also addicted. He had just tasted the profit of high-grade intelligence, and he would be back
for more.