Fujin didn't rush. He took another sip of bourbon, leaned his weight onto one arm of the chair, and let the silence stretch just enough to test them.
"You're in a hurry," he finally said, watching Gaia over the rim of his glass. "But speed costs."
She didn't answer right away. Isgram watched her. Gaia rarely showed urgency. This was different. Her fists were clenched at her sides, nails pressing white against her skin.
Isgram leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Spit it out, Fujin."
Fujin's smile stretched slowly across his face, his voice low, deliberate. "There's another chosen one. Lyssa—water magic, powerful. She's been making waves, quite literally, in the east. And she's going to be hunted soon. They'll come for her, just like they came for your friend."
Gaia's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"
Fujin raised a hand. "Not so fast. You don't get to rush me. The question is: what are you willing to trade for this information?"
Isgram's patience snapped. "You already have our ore. What more do you want from us?"
Fujin's eyes gleamed with amusement as he stood, his chair scraping back. "I've heard about your little band. And I think I can help you, but I don't work for free."
He set his glass down and leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"I'm offering you a lead on a chosen one who could be the difference between life and death for you all. And what I want in return isn't much—just a favor. And trust me, it'll be a small price to pay for what I'm giving you."
Gaia stared at him, her voice cutting through the thick air. "State your terms."
Fujin's smile stretched wider. "Very well, sit down for now as we wait for Alona.
Isgram grumbled as he took a sit at the table, but Gaia preferred to stand.
"So, what favor you need from us?"
Fujin poured the last finger of bourbon, then finally spoke, voice as smooth as the liquor sliding down the glass.
"I want you to attend a meeting."
Isgram scowled. "That's your grand favor? A conversation?"
"Not just any conversation." Fujin leaned forward, eyes glinting. "I've sent word to Whitemoor, and to Davra's council. A formal sit-down has been arranged with Mayor Nakamura. You, Gaia, and Fang—once he's healed—will come as representatives of the chosen. It will look like you're open to negotiations. You will bow your head in front of the empire and Whitemoor."
Gaia crossed her arms. "You want us to lie."
"I want you to smile as best as you can while the real work happens."
Fujin drained his glass, then stood. "During that meeting, one of my people will take care of Ferdinand. Ferdinand of House Gorm."
Isgram froze. "He's the one funding the hunters?"
Fujin nodded. "The real architect behind the bounty. He plays the mayor like a puppet. Has land, gold, influence across the region. But more importantly, he has no code. He sees chosen as assets to be broken, not people."
Gaia's voice was razor-sharp. "Why the fuck do you care?"
Fujin's smile faded. "Because nobles like him are what rot this world from the top down. They hide behind protocol and coin, while men like me get their hands dirty. I've killed warlords with more honor than that rat. That asshole should rot in a ditch."
He walked to the window and stared out into the misty treeline. "This isn't just your war. House Gorm has been tightening its grip across the west. Killing Ferdinand sends a message. It breaks the spine of a growing threat. They thought they could monopolize the farms and hold farmers from making an honest harvest. They've got no idea what is going to hit them."
Isgram crossed his arms. "So we show up to this meeting, let you use us as bait, and in return, you give us Lyssa's location?"
"And more," Fujin said. "You'll have my network. Maps. Guild movements. Smugglers who can move you across borders."
Gaia narrowed her eyes. "Why do you want to help us so badly?"
Fujin turned from the window, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow grin crept back onto his face—but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Let's just say I have a liking for chosen ones. A deep... admiration, even. You were picked by something older, something greater than this crumbling empire. And I've always preferred the rules of the gods to the rules of kings."
He walked back toward the table, pouring himself one last glass despite the bottle being almost dry.
"Kings write laws to protect their power. Gods write destinies to test yours. That's a game I respect."
Gaia watched him closely, trying to peel back the layers. "And what's in it for you?"
Fujin raised his glass in a mock toast. "Chaos. Correction. And maybe a bit of justice for once."
He drank.
"Now, once Alona gets here, we'll see about waking your shadow friend. You've got work to do."
Isgram looked at Fujin for a long moment, then down at the table. His jaw tensed, then unclenched. Slowly, he rose from his chair.
"I don't like games," he said, voice steady. "But I know a fair deal when I see one. You're risking something genuine here. And so are we."
He stepped forward, placing a hand over his chest. "I swear on my fire, on the forge that made me, and on the mission Fang gave me—I'll honor this deal. We'll play our part. And when Ferdinand falls, you'll keep your word too."
Fujin's grin returned, just a little softer this time. "Didn't expect a blacksmith to be the one speaking like a knight."
Isgram shrugged. "Doesn't take a title to have honor, chief."
There was a quiet stillness then, broken only by the wind brushing the treetops outside. Gaia didn't speak, but when she glanced at Isgram, her expression had softened—just a little.
Fujin raised his glass again, this time in a true toast. "I will toast this for the gods. Let's shake the roots of this rotten world."
A soft knock interrupted the moment.
The door creaked open, and Alona stepped in, soaked from the rain but calm as ever. She pulled back her hood, revealing hair still damp and clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the atmosphere like a healer reading a wound.
"Are we ready for this?" she asked, cutting through the silence, her voice neutral but firm.
Isgram met her gaze, then nodded. "We're ready. No turning back now."
Fujin didn't look at her at first, but when he did, his expression was unreadable. He gave a short nod. "Yes, we're ready. Let's get this over with."
He moved toward a nearby table, reaching for his cloak. As he slipped it on, the faint sound of fabric brushing against itself was the only noise in the room. He adjusted it, then looked at Isgram, his tone casual. "Let's go. Time's wasting."
Alona nodded, stepping aside to let the others lead the way. As she fell into line behind Fujin, the group silently prepared for the next phase of their journey.