Four days had passed since Rand's conversation with Master Gill. During that time, the innkeeper moved with the discretion of a seasoned spy, reaching out to old contacts—men who dealt with forgotten properties, obscure records, and expensive favors. Gill knew them well enough to understand they wouldn't be swayed by gold alone; they needed to be convinced with something more—vision, power, ambition.
At first, everything went as Rand had hoped. The meetings were scheduled at night, in private rooms of seldom-visited taverns, where the windows were covered with dark cloth and no one spoke above a whisper. The first man to appear was Thoman Lar, a stout merchant with ring-covered fingers and eyes too small for his broad face. After him came the brothers Darel and Mun Vessor, former traders now earning their living speculating on decaying properties. Finally came Elric Malvor, soft-spoken, well-dressed, and with the posture of a noble—though he never confirmed it.
They all wanted to see Rand with their own eyes before making any deals. They were suspicious of "the mysterious boy willing to buy entire streets without hesitation." When they finally saw him, what they found was a tall young man, with hard eyes and a calm expression—too calm, as if he carried a certainty that made them uncomfortable.
"So it's you," Thoman said, leaning back in his chair with a half-smile. "But no… you're just a boy."
Rand didn't reply right away. He let the silence linger, observing each of them with steady eyes.
"And you're the owners of forgotten pieces of Caemlyn that no one else wants," he said in a low but firm voice. "Let's stop playing games. You have what I need. And I have the gold you want."
The game began then.For hours, the negotiations advanced and retreated like a sword dance. The men, who at first seemed friendly and even curious, soon revealed their true interests. They tried to inflate the prices, claimed fictitious renovations, sentimental value, and even "strategic potential" they hadn't noticed before.
"That house at the back of Violet Street overlooks the market," Mun Vessor said, laughing. "That alone makes it worth triple your offer."
"A view of a ruined market that only sees cats and drunkards," Rand replied coldly. "I'll pay half of what I offered before. Or nothing."
Gill, who had been watching everything in silence, cleared his throat.
"The men didn't come here to waste time, Rand. Perhaps it's better—"
"They didn't come here to be fools either," Rand interrupted. "I know the value of these properties. And so do you. We're not talking about noble neighborhoods or walled fortresses. These are ruins, carcasses of houses. I'm offering more than they're worth because I want speed. But if you want to play bluffing games, I can play too."
Thoman narrowed his eyes.
"Where did you say you're from again?"
Rand looked at him, impassive.
"From a place where I learned to never pay more than something's worth, and to recognize when a man is trying to deceive me."
The silence was broken only by the clink of a wine glass being set on the table.
"Very well," Elric said, raising his eyebrows. "You got us. We were too greedy. But you still haven't told us: what are you going to do with all these properties? Why buy them now? What's behind this?"
The others shifted, uncomfortable but also curious. It was the question they all wanted to ask, but none had dared until then. Gill looked at Rand, uncertain. Rand took a deep breath, resting his fingers on the hand-drawn map he had brought with him.
"What I'm going to build there," he began calmly, "is something Caemlyn doesn't yet have. A refuge for the wealthy. A home for travelers. A place of pleasure, rest, and entertainment."
He looked at them, one by one.
"A luxury hotel."
The men frowned.
"Hotel?" Mun repeated, confused."A unique complex," Rand continued. "Spacious rooms, scenic windows, beds that will make lords forget their own homes. But not only that. There will be a tavern inside, open to the public. A game hall, where they can wager with cards, dice, even races—all controlled, of course. And more: an arena. Controlled fights, with bets and security. A spectacle. A business that will pay for itself in less than a year."
Thoman let out a whistle.
"You want to build all that there? In those ruins?"
"Ruins that will become foundations. People like novelty. Lords love exclusivity. And common men… they love to bet."
"And you think that's going to work?" Elric asked, still skeptical."It will," Rand said. "Because I will make it work. And you… will be the first to profit from it. If you spread the word wisely, to the right people."
Gill watched him with a mix of surprise and admiration. The boy had a knack for leadership. Perhaps he really was starting something bigger than anyone imagined.
By the end of the night, the contracts were signed. The prices, though high, were well below what Rand had predicted. Everyone left satisfied—Rand, for having achieved more than expected; the sellers, for believing they were profiting off the boldness of a young dreamer.But none of them knew how carefully calculated that boldness really was.
That night, Rand looked at the final map, now marked "purchased" on every building he needed.
Helena entered the room, wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug of tea.
"Did you get it?"
Rand turned to her and smiled, tired but victorious.
"I got it. Now we have a territory of our own. And what we're going to build there…"