"Well!" Fanzell announced, his voice echoing loudly. "I suppose if we're going to be grunts on probation, we might as well be grunts with the nicest workshop on the continent! Tell me, oh mysterious and demanding leader, does this syndicate provide hazard pay? Or do I have to negotiate for extra rations of ale by doing chores around the mountain?"
Dominante reached out and swatted Fanzell hard on the back of his head. "Fanzell! Be serious for one minute!"
"I am completely serious!" Fanzell laughed, rubbing the back of his head, his blue eyes crinkling with genuine mirth. He looked back at Lencar, a wide, slightly crooked grin on his face. "I mean it. If I'm going to be training in that incredible hall you built, I'm going to work up a massive appetite. I hope your organization has a good supply chain, because I eat like a starving boar."
Lencar watched the exchange, feeling a quiet sense of relief wash over him beneath the featureless wooden mask. He nodded in his mind, acknowledging Fanzell's masterful ability to read a room and defuse a potential standoff with humor. It was a leadership quality Lencar deeply respected.
"The supply lines will be established shortly," Lencar replied, his voice losing its cold, metallic edge, returning to a polite, accommodating tone. "You will not go hungry, Fanzell. You have my word on that."
Lencar turned his attention away from the swordsman and focused his gaze on the vibrant orange-haired artificer. It was time to secure the true asset he had come for.
"Dominante," Lencar said, his tone shifting to one of quiet business. "While you are settling in and preparing your new forge, there is something I require from you immediately."
Dominante straightened up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Of course. What kind of artifact do you need? I have blueprints for localized communication jammers, advanced mana-batteries, and highly lethal proximity traps. Given the facilities here, I could start prototyping by tomorrow morning."
"No artifacts just yet," Lencar corrected gently. "I need your knowledge. Specifically, I need your notes about magic runes."
Dominante blinked, slightly taken aback. "My notes on runecraft?"
"Yes," Lencar confirmed. "Runes are the foundational language of magical permanence. They dictate how magic interacts with the physical world over long periods. Your expertise in this field is unparalleled, and that knowledge is very useful to me and the organization."
He paused, knowing exactly how sensitive scientists and mages were about their life's work. In the Diamond Kingdom, Dominante's research had been ruthlessly confiscated, her mind treated as property of the state. He needed to make sure she understood that he operated differently.
"I am not asking you to hand over your life's work," Lencar added smoothly, his voice laced with genuine respect. "You don't have to give me everything you know for now. I am simply asking for the basics, the foundational theories, and some of your deeper insights regarding elemental stabilization arrays. You can give the rest to me later, as trust continues to build between us."
Dominante stared at the wooden mask for a long moment. She felt a sudden, profound wave of gratitude toward the man. He wasn't demanding she strip her mind bare. He was asking for a primer, setting a boundary that respected her intellectual property while still fulfilling his needs as her benefactor. It was a level of professional courtesy she hadn't experienced in years.
She offered a slow, deeply appreciative nod. She had expected a demand for her secrets eventually; she just hadn't expected it to be so reasonable.
"I understand," Dominante said, a soft smile touching her lips. "I would be more than happy to provide you with my foundational research. Runecraft is a delicate art, and having someone else who understands the theory might actually be refreshing. However..." She grimaced slightly, looking around the massive, empty hall. "I have left almost all of my blank parchment, my indexing ledgers, and my heavy reference tomes back at the hideout. To give you a proper set of notes, I need to bring my library here."
Lencar nodded easily. "Then let us fetch them. The portal is still anchored to the coordinates in Nairn."
Without needing to exert the massive, taxing effort of tearing a new hole in space, Lencar simply raised his hand and channeled a pulse of mana into his spatial ring. The air in front of them shimmered, and the swirling, dark purple vortex ripped open once again, revealing the cramped, dimly lit safehouse on the other side.
"We will make as many trips as necessary," Lencar instructed. "Take your time. Do not leave anything valuable behind."
What followed was an intense, grueling hour of heavy labor that stood in stark contrast to the mystical, high-stakes nature of their previous conversations.
Moving an artificer's laboratory was no small feat. Dominante's work required massive amounts of raw, dense materials that couldn't simply be stuffed into a satchel. There were heavy crates of refined brass, lead, and silver ingots. There were delicate, magically insulated glass containers filled with volatile beast blood and powdered mana crystals. There were specialized carving anvils, heavy iron bellows, and stacks upon stacks of leather-bound journals detailing years of painstaking research.
Fanzell, relying on his naturally immense physical strength and a subtle, continuous application of his Wind Magic to lighten the load, acted as the primary pack mule. He hauled massive wooden crates through the purple portal on his shoulders, sweating profusely but never once dropping his cheerful demeanor.
"Coming through! Make way for the mighty beast of burden!" Fanzell called out as he stepped through the portal into the Crags base, carrying a crate of lead ingots that must have weighed three hundred pounds. He set it down gently near the entrance of Dominante's new sub-level workshop with a loud grunt. "You know, Lencar, if your syndicate ever needs a siege engine, you can just point me at the enemy walls. My back is going to be made of steel by the end of this."
Lencar, maintaining the spatial tear, stepped in to help. While he didn't want to show off the full extent of his Beast Magic or Iron Magic, his physical form was naturally dense and incredibly powerful due to the Quintessence and his rigorous training. He effortlessly picked up a massive, iron-bound trunk that Mariella had been struggling to drag across the floor.
"Allow me," Lencar said smoothly, lifting the trunk as if it were filled with feathers. He carried it through the portal and set it delicately beside Fanzell's crates.
Mariella watched him with narrowed, analytical eyes. She was a master of assessing physical capabilities. The casual way Lencar had lifted a trunk that she knew weighed well over two hundred pounds, without any visible aura of Reinforcement Magic, confirmed her suspicions: the man beneath the mask was a physical monster just as much as he was a magical anomaly.
Mariella focused on the delicate, highly lethal items. She moved with silent, fluid grace, carrying crates of volatile alchemical reagents and Dominante's most fragile measuring instruments. She never spoke a word during the process, treating the move with the same serious, hyper-focused intensity she applied to an assassination mission.
Dominante was a whirlwind of anxious energy. She darted back and forth through the portal, her orange hair flying wildly, carrying armfuls of scrolls, grimoires, and loose parchment. Every time she stepped into the new, pristine laboratory in the Crags, her eyes widened anew at the sheer perfection of the marble workbenches and the smokeless forge.
"Place the silver ingots near the cooling basins, Fanzell!" Dominante directed, pointing frantically. "Mariella, put the volatile crystals in the ice vault immediately! The ambient temperature shift might cause the red cores to crack!"
After five exhaustive trips back and forth, the safehouse in Nairn was completely stripped bare. All that remained were the heavy, immovable wooden tables and a few broken chairs.
Lencar stood in the center of the dark, abandoned room for one final sweep. He used his Concealment and Mist magic, flooding the room with a subtle, erasing pulse of mana to scrub away their lingering magical signatures. If the Diamond Kingdom somehow found this room, they would find absolutely nothing to track.