Chapter 27: Merchant Convoy - Part 3
The merchants had tried to flee.
When the battle turned against their hired killers, Aldric Vess and his associates had apparently decided that discretion was the better part of conspiracy. They'd whipped the wagon horses into a panicked gallop, scattering cargo across the valley road in their desperate retreat.
They hadn't gotten far.
Marcus and Theron had intercepted them within half a mile, cutting the horses free and forcing the wagons to stop. Now the merchants knelt in the dirt, surrounded by guild members, looking exactly like what they were: caught criminals awaiting judgment.
"Two options," I said, standing over Aldric Vess. The man who'd posted the contract. The man who'd tried to have us killed.
He looked up with terror-glazed eyes. "Please—"
"Option one: I hand you to the authorities. Your captain has confessed everything. The contracts, the payments, the meetings. You'll face trial for attempted murder, fraud, and conspiracy. The punishment is execution—public, painful, and permanent."
"I didn't—it wasn't—"
"Option two: You sign over triple the contract payment as damages. Six hundred crowns, immediately, from consortium assets. You also sign a written confession, which I hold as insurance. If anything happens to me or my guild—if I even suspect you're planning retaliation—that confession goes to every authority in Redania."
Vess's face cycled through emotions: fear, calculation, desperation, resignation.
"I don't have six hundred crowns here—"
"You have promissory notes that can be converted. You have trade goods worth that amount in your wagons. You have jewelry that your wife shouldn't have been traveling with." I crouched to meet his eyes directly. "I've scanned every item you're carrying. I know exactly what you have and what it's worth."
[RESOURCE SCAN: MERCHANT ASSETS]
[Trade goods: 180 crowns equivalent]
[Promissory notes: 340 crowns convertible]
[Personal effects (jewelry, luxury items): 95 crowns]
[Total accessible value: 615 crowns]
"Choose," I said. "Now."
The silence stretched. Vess looked at his fellow merchants, finding no support. They were already reaching for their purses, their jewelry, their promissory cases.
"Fine," Vess whispered. "We'll pay."
Mira's Perspective
The transaction took two hours.
Helena handled the documentation—her merchant family background proving invaluable for identifying legitimate promissory notes and appraising goods. Each item was catalogued, valued, and transferred to guild ownership with witnesses and signatures.
Six hundred crowns. More money than the guild had ever possessed. Enough to fund operations for months.
But watching Finn work left me uneasy.
He moved through the aftermath with cold efficiency. Interrogating bandits. Verifying merchant confessions. Coordinating with the local authorities who'd arrived in response to our signal flares. Every action was calculated for maximum advantage, every word chosen for strategic effect.
"This is what he meant. About building something that could survive. He's not just winning—he's establishing precedent. Making examples."
The bandit company was sorted into groups: wounded who needed immediate care, healthy who could be transported, and leaders who would face the severest charges. Finn negotiated their fate with the arriving guards—testimony in exchange for reduced sentences, information in exchange for labor rather than execution.
"You're being merciful," I said, finding a moment alone with him.
"I'm being practical. Dead bandits can't tell me about other criminal networks. Imprisoned ones can." He was reviewing documents, eyes scanning faster than seemed natural. "The captain gave me three names before he died. Other operations the consortium has running. Other partnerships with bandit companies."
"You're going to use that information."
"Eventually. When the timing is right." He looked up. "You disapprove?"
"I don't know what I feel." The honest answer, inadequate as it was. "You just... you didn't hesitate. Not once. When the fighting started, when you were negotiating, when you were deciding fates. It's like you knew exactly what to do."
"I planned for this. Prepared for every possibility I could imagine." His expression softened slightly. "The confidence isn't real, Mira. It's performance. Underneath, I'm terrified every single moment."
"You hide it well."
"I have to. Leaders who show fear make followers afraid. Afraid people make mistakes. Mistakes get people killed." He returned to his documents. "So I pretend certainty until it becomes real. And somehow, we keep surviving."
Finn's Perspective
The system rewarded success.
I felt the notification pulse through my awareness as the last details were settled, the merchants escorted away by guards, the bandits processed for transport.
[MAJOR QUEST COMPLETE: MERCHANT CONVOY]
[Objectives Achieved:]
[- Survived organized ambush]
[- Exposed merchant conspiracy]
[- Captured enemy forces]
[- Obtained damages payment]
[REWARDS:]
[+1,000 GP]
[Level Up: 7 → 8]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: ETHEREAL BLADE]
[TOTAL GP: 6,350]
I waited until I was alone—truly alone, in a copse of trees away from camp—before testing the new ability.
"Ethereal Blade. Manifest."
Energy flowed from somewhere inside me, coalescing in my hand. Light gathered, solidified, took shape. A sword appeared—not steel, not silver, something else entirely. Translucent, glowing faintly blue, weightless in my grip yet somehow solid.
[ETHEREAL BLADE: ACTIVE]
[Type: Magical Weapon]
[Effect: Bypasses non-magical armor. Damages ethereal/spiritual entities.]
[Cost: 100 energy per minute of manifestation]
[Limitations: Cannot be wielded by others. Disappears if concentration breaks.]
I swung the blade experimentally. The air parted around it without resistance, but when I struck a fallen branch, the wood split cleanly. Real cutting power, despite the immaterial appearance.
"A weapon that doesn't exist until I need it. That can't be taken from me. That works against ghosts and spirits as effectively as physical enemies."
The implications were significant. Against the wraith, I'd needed silver weapons and Mira's light magic. Against future supernatural threats, I'd have a tool that was always available, always effective.
[ENERGY: 400/500]
I dismissed the blade, feeling the energy stop draining. The manifestation had cost only about a minute's worth—reasonable for brief engagements, problematic for extended combat.
"Another tool in the arsenal. Not a solution to everything, but valuable nonetheless."
The return journey to Oxenfurt took four days.
Without the convoy to protect, we moved faster. The guild members were in high spirits—they'd faced a serious threat and emerged victorious, with enough coin to fund operations for months and a story that would spread through every tavern in the region.
Viktor walked beside me for much of the journey, his silence comfortable rather than awkward.
"You planned well," he said on the third day.
"I got lucky. The bandits committed too early, before they realized we'd positioned flankers."
"Luck favors preparation. You had the right people in the right places." He glanced at me sideways. "But you're not satisfied."
"Satisfied?"
"You've been tense since we left the ambush site. Checking the road behind us. Watching the treeline. Something's bothering you."
"He's perceptive. More than I'd credited."
"The merchants were part of a larger network. Aldric Vess didn't invent this scheme alone—he was following a pattern. A template." I adjusted my pack, old habits of constant motion. "Someone taught them that hiring bandits to eliminate competition was acceptable. Someone else might learn from their failure."
"You're worried about retaliation."
"I'm worried about escalation. We embarrassed powerful people today. Made examples of them publicly. That creates enemies."
Viktor was quiet for a moment. "In the army, we had a saying: 'Victory makes enemies. Survival requires vigilance.'"
"That's depressing."
"It's realistic." He smiled slightly. "You did something important back there, Finn. Not just winning the fight—giving your people a victory to believe in. That's worth the enemies it creates."
We walked in silence for a while longer. The forest gave way to farmland, then to the outlying villages of Oxenfurt's territory. Home was close now.
"Viktor."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For trusting the plan. For leading the center when you could have demanded command."
"You earned that trust." He met my eyes directly. "Whatever you're building, whatever larger purpose you haven't told us about—I'm committed. Not just oath-bound. Genuinely committed."
The words settled into me like warmth against winter cold. Trust, freely given, from someone whose judgment I respected.
"This is what it means to build something. Not just recruiting people, but earning their belief."
Oxenfurt's walls appeared on the horizon. The Covenant of Blades was returning home, six hundred crowns richer, reputation enhanced, and stronger in ways that couldn't be measured in gold.
The contract board would have new postings by tomorrow. Bigger jobs, attracted by the story of our success. More opportunities to prove ourselves. More chances to grow toward whatever future I was building.
I quickened my pace. There was work to do.
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