The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

It was a cold and foggy morning in Grafia when the group reconvened at Morley's shop. A few burly men were gathered by the door, each one carrying a weighty cask of black powder in their arms. The owner grunted, meeting Elijah's eyes.

"Weren't easy to get this all gathered from my storehouse, especially on short notice. A personal stockpile I've had built up over the years through a few deals of my own. And I'm sure there'll be people in power who'll be unhappy to know I've had this stored away. But with what you were giving me in exchange? I'd say it was worth it."

Elijah smiled. "Aye, a damn good trade. You've made out like a bandit."

Coin didn't know the exact terms of their negotiation, but he ultimately had larger thoughts looming on his mind. The mimic glanced to the casks of black powder, each one meant to serve as a killing implement for a truly dangerous group. He had yet to tell Elijah about it, still mentally debating how to do so.

But, even so, they could still sell those casks and make a tidy profit. Ideally to people without Brotherhood ties.

He felt Essine's eyes on him, rife with concern. She was the only other person who understood the dire weight of their situation. But, ideally, it would be best to talk things through with Elijah when they were away from any prying ears.

Coin approached Morley, clearing his throat. "Before we head back to Sentinel, I have to ask... does your store sell any potions for cleaning?"

He lifted a bushy brow. "Mm? We have a few bottled soaps on offer, aye. Some for people, some for hard surfaces. There's a gnome commune ain't too far from here, they sell the excess my way."

Elijah gave him a curious sideways glance. "You scheming something?" he asked.

Coin nodded. "I figure the people in Lowtown would appreciate a few bottles." And they had a few empty glass vials in the wagon, giving them the means to dilute the soap and sell a larger quantity of it. And for as nice as the thought of making a profit was, he did have an ulterior motive for sending the older alchemist away.

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and pretended to rummage about in search of ducats. In doing so, he moved a portion of his money through the flesh of his pouch, directing it down his left arm. The coins seeped through his skin, rolled down his forearm, and gathered in his palm.

After a brief spate of haggling, the burly man took the offered coins and sauntered into the backroom of his shop. His workers, meanwhile, pressed on toward Grafia's stables to load up the wagon. It still hurt, giving away his own money, but his current worries dulled the pain.

"Any chance I could borrow some of that soap?" Pearl asked, letting out a nervous laugh. "It was nice, getting a chance to properly wash back at Gilly's home, but it would be nice to have easy access to a bottle going forward."

"If you're willing to pay, sure," Coin replied. He was nice, but not running a charity. Nor had his worries entirely dulled his greed.

The bard pouted. "So cruel. But, very well. I'm going to go settle accounts at the alehouse, I'll meet you all back at the stable." She turned and strode away, humming a tune about a farmer with a massive eggplant.

Now alone, relatively speaking, Coin turned and gave Elijah a firm look. "We can't give that powder to Valle Irons."

His mentor blinked at him a few times. "Well, why ever not?" He didn't seem offended by the proclamation, and was at least willing to hear Coin out. But the confusion was writ large on his rumpled brow.

"Because Valle Irons is in league with criminals. People who call themselves the Brotherhood," Coin replied in a low murmur.

Elijah paled. "Th-the Brotherhood? Brotherhood of the Dagger? You're... certain? That's a very serious accusation to make, my lad. Sure, Valle has made connections with unsavoury types before, but the Brotherhood are near the equals of the Bleak when it comes to pure evil," he replied, just as hushed.

"That's the name I heard, at least," he said.

The older man fell silent for a moment. "Heard from where?"

A brief bout of hesitation gripped Coin, like a man peering over the high dive and debating the survivability of hitting the water below. "Last night, I saw a man at the alehouse who gave me a worrying impression. Particularly with the way he looked at us. So I followed him in secret."

"Ah. So that's why you ran off last night," Elijah murmured.

"Anyway I snuck after him, followed him into this... underground tunnel. And down there, I saw this group had gathered. They claimed to be the Brotherhood, and they were working with a pack of goblins."

If anyone else had woven this tale for him, Elijah would have taken them for a liar. Or a bug-eyed lunatic who had snorted an abundance of slam. But he knew Coin. Trusted the strangely naive boy who had saved his neck from harm more than once. As strange as the tale was, he doubted Coin would lie about it.

"And they claimed that Valle was working with them?" he eventually asked.

The hinges to the backroom doors creaked noisily, instantly hushing the group. "Must be cautious," Essine whispered. "Dangerous people. Even kobolds fear the Dagger."

Morley returned, carrying a few glass bottles on his arms. Most of them contained a pearly white liquid, but others had been tinted with shades of orange, red, or purple.

Gnomes, historically, were a clean and tidy people. Which was an impressive feat for people who once lived exclusively in the heart of nature, which laughed and scoffed at such concepts. But living among humans, and even elves, had forced them to evolve when it came to hygiene. On the plus side their soaps and scented candles made for wonderful holiday gifts from people with zero imagination for gift-giving.

"Right. Most of these got a basic floral scent to 'em. It's not bad, just sort of... bland, I suppose. The others got fruit scents. Dunno how the gnomes do it, frankly, but it works."

Coin took the bottles, nodded his thanks, and stiffly left the building with Elijah and Essine in tow. The streets of Grafia beyond were quiet at this early hour, some of the sellers only starting to open up their carts and stores. Silhouettes moved and shifted in the fog ahead.

The mimic tried to tell himself that they were just ordinary citizens, or the fog playing tricks on his eyes. But he couldn't dull the paranoia creeping into his mind. Nobody had chased him last night, nobody but Essine knew his secret. Yet there was no doubt in his mind that the Brotherhood agents were still rife in this town, lurking in every corner and shadow.

Looking for any trace of a mimic. Or anyone who didn't look like they belonged.

He led the way into a narrow alley, devoid of any other people, or any windows directly above them, and resumed speaking in a low voice.

"I saw them kill a man down there," he admitted, finally. "They had this weapon, not like anything I've seen before. It... it punched a hole clean through a man's armour and torso, and the noise of it was almost deafening. They called it a hand cannon."

It did not take long for Elijah to piece together a mental image from what had been described. "A weapon like a cannon, but it fits in your hand?" he murmured. Coin nodded. "And if it functions like a normal cannon then it needs black powder to..." he trailed off, nervous sweat breaking out across his wrinkled features from the sudden realisation. "Goddess above."

"That's why he wanted the powder. That's why he was so desperate. They mentioned him by name, I know he's involved" Coin said.

Elijah's expression quickly shifted from shock to anger, his face reddening until veins became visible on his forehead. "That little bastard!" he hissed. "I put my trust in him! I didn't think even he'd be such a damn fool that he'd get involved with something like this!"

"What... do we do now?" Essine asked.

"Simply giving the powder back isn't an option, not without putting Morley at risk. Doubt he'd let me rescind what I gave him anyway. We... we continue on toward Sentinel, act as if everything is normal. For the time being at least. If there are Brotherhood agents here, they may already know about us. And we can't afford to rouse suspicion." He exhaled slowly before meeting Coin's eyes. "You were right to tell me all this, my lad. But you put yourself in a great danger to find it out. You need to be more careful in the future."

He briefly thought of that girl with the two blades, who had attacked him with the kind of ferocity and speed that put most other humans he'd ever fought before to shame. "Yeah. I really do."

"Anyway, when we get back to Sentinel, we'll be having words with Valle. And deciding a better use for our cargo."

Coin wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. Elijah had believed him. And, for now at least, he didn't need to divulge his secrets. Ideally they could get back to Sentinel in one piece and after that... After that...

Well, he wasn't sure. Presumably the archchancellor and his people would take care of the rest.

As they reached the outside of Grafia's stable, they were greeted by the sound of chattering and laughter. Coin quickly recognised Pearl's voice as he was about to round a corner.

"Well, it really is a crass old song. Supposedly the man was the bane of whorehouses everywhere, despite being royalty."

A second voice tittered in response. "Oh, I can imagine."

Coin nearly halted mid-step, his blood turning to ice in his veins. A familiar voice that made a pit form in his stomach. Rounding the corner, he could clearly see Pearl's new friend. There, seated on a fence only a few paces from Dancer and the wagon, was the orange-haired girl from last night.