By midday, the Merchants' Inn felt almost peaceful, the common room drained of tension as most guests retreated to their chambers or wandered out for food and trade. Even the guards had thinned, leaving the place feeling hollowed-out, as if the morning's drama had rung everyone dry.
He had searched for Elara, but she was absent ever since, even Mara had no idea where she was.
He lingered on the rail overlooking the dining area. With his new stealth maxed, he felt invisible, as if the world itself had agreed to forget him for a few precious hours… though, that was only imagination, as he was standing quite in the open.
Just then, he spotted Lina, watching her move with deliberate calm down the main hall to the side, then pause before a hanging piece of art, a piece of tapestry near the back wall. Keane keenly caught her body language as she checked for onlookers.
Seeing as no one was around and those who were were busy with their business, she pulled back the edge of the tapestry, fumbled for something beneath, and then slipped through a gap so seamlessly that, for a second, she seemed to vanish into thin air.
Keane who had been watching grinned, feeling the old familiar pull of curiosity and greed. Perhaps, he truly was invisible after standing in one spot for long, after all, under all normal circumstances, Lina wouldn't have missed him.
He waited for a moment, at least giving time so that Lina who went before him would have reached the other side of this secret passage.
When the time was right, he slipped down, and found the place where Lina had disappeared into. He traced the wall behind with his fingers, found a cunningly concealed patch, and pressed it.
The wall parted, and a slice of darkness yawned open.
Without hesitation and just as naturally, Keane stepped through, and found himself in a cramped stairwell, the air cool and slightly sour with the smell of wet stone and old wine. The steps wound down, steep and irregular, torchlight flickering from somewhere below.
He moved careful to keep his breathing shallow, and soon emerged onto a low, barrel-vaulted chamber beneath the inn. The cellar was bigger than he'd expected, maybe the size of the entire main floor above, but half-concealed by racks of barrels and crates. At the center was a rough stone table, and around it, a semicircle of chairs.
Keane flattened himself behind one of the creates, quite a distance away, only his eyes peeking through a gap. The scene before him was pure classic, straight out of a movie. Five figures, faces shrouded in masks could be spotted, and at the head, a woman, tall and imperious, her cloak trimmed with silver, stood possibly as the leader or organizer of the gathering.
Keane recognized her instantly, even with the mask… 'Elara? She just keeps getting more and more interesting.'
"The balance of power shifts," she said. "King Aldric's hold weakens, and the other nobles move their pieces. Our task is to ensure Valewind remains... indispensable."
The others nodded, murmuring assent. One, with a rough voice, said, "The King's taxes bleed the city. Riots will worsen. The guilds are restless."
"Then we use it. Fan the unrest, but keep it directed—against the crown, not against us." Elara responded.
Another woman leaned forward, her voice sharp. "The Red Guild stirs in the south. Their agent moves through the grain merchants already."
"Let them," Elara said. "If they weaken the King's grip, we profit. But if they overreach, they must be contained. We cannot afford chaos in the trade quarter."
Listening to them was astonishing, they spoke in an unusual cadence, as though mandated. The discussion wound on, and as Keane listened, it was clear that this was some serious conspiracy. At the same time, it seemed to be kind of unrelated to what she had been talking about with the cloaked man from before.
That aside, in regards to what was before him, a part of him felt almost let down. Where were the assassinations, the poisoned chalices, the midnight kidnappings??? Back on earth, corporate wars were bloodless most of the time of course; but here, for all the magic and muscle, the real weapons were still information, leverage, and fear? This was not in line with fantasy stories… or perhaps it was with a few, but that was aside the point… no one watched fantasy movies expecting realism, it was overrated… though he quite enjoyed watching those.
While he was reveling in this disappointment, the meeting was already coming to an end it seemed.
"Our agent will arrive tonight, with proof of the King's next move. Until then, keep the city quiet. Any deviation, any leak, and we lose everything." Elara said.
The others nodded, rose, and melted away, disappearing through side tunnels or back up the stairs. Only Elara lingered, staring at the flicker of torchlight on the far wall, her silhouette cut sharp against the stone.
Keane waited carefully, as he had forgotten to leave before the meeting was over, like he had planned. Everything happened quite fast. He remained hidden, barely breathing, until Elara too turned and left, footsteps precise as ever.
He slipped out, careful to retrace his steps, and made it back to the main hall without so much as a squeak, more than happy that the way he came in also led out.
He was grinning, his mind racing with the possibilities, but deep down within in, something just didn't add up, something was out of place… 'This all is just too convenient.' He thought to himself.
"As he glanced at the tapestry briefly, he muttered to himself, "what is really going on here?"