Chapter 939 - 938
Cass returned before anyone had finished breakfast.
The door flew open hard enough to rattle the hinges.
"I found one."
She didn't bother taking off her cloak.
Instead, she crossed the room in three quick strides and dropped a folded notice onto the table.
The paper had already been creased from being carried in her fist.
"This is worth looking at."
Torin reached for it.
The notice was written in a neat, practiced hand—the sort used by professional clerks who expected merchants to scan information quickly.
Everything important stood out immediately.
House Voss Acquisition Escort.
Pickup: Ashreach Transit House.
Destination: Vossmere Estate, Union Territory.
Estimated Duration: Three Days.
Payment: Four silver crowns per escort member per day, payable upon confirmed delivery.
Cargo: Personal effects and collector's acquisitions.
Handling required.
No unusual hazards reported.
Torin read it twice before looking up.
"Who posted it?"
"A relay factor."
Cass leaned back in her chair.
"Name's Serwick."
"He handles jobs for wealthy clients who'd rather not deal directly with mercenary companies."
Brogan frowned.
"Why?"
"Convenience."
Cass shrugged.
"I asked around."
"He mostly works for Union merchants doing business across the Federation border."
She reached for another piece of bread.
"Apparently the Union Ledger Companies can't legally operate over here without temporary guest contracts."
"And those take weeks to approve."
Torin nodded slowly.
"So local companies get the work instead."
"Exactly."
Brogan had already opened the company ledger again.
His charcoal moved rapidly across the page.
Five members.
Four silver each.
Three days.
He performed the arithmetic almost instinctively.
"Twelve silver per person."
"Sixty altogether."
Cass grinned.
"Enough for rent."
Brogan nodded.
"And twenty-three silver left afterward."
Karsh finally sat upright.
"That's actual profit."
"Don't sound too surprised."
"I am."
He scratched at one of the fading bruises beneath his collar.
"I'd forgotten profitable contracts existed."
Torin remained focused on the notice.
"What's wrong with it?"
Everyone looked toward him.
Cass blinked.
"Wrong?"
"If it's this straightforward..."
He tapped the paper.
"...why is it still on the board?"
Silence lasted only a moment.
Then Cass answered.
"Because it doesn't improve anyone's reputation."
She tore another piece of bread free.
"It's escort work."
"For a collector."
"Moving expensive curiosities."
"No monsters."
"No famous clients."
"No heroic stories."
She shrugged.
"The bigger companies won't bother."
"The middle-ranked ones want contracts people actually remember at Posting."
Karsh chuckled.
"We're neither."
Cass pointed toward him.
"We're ranked one hundred and ninth."
She smiled.
"This is exactly our sort of job."
Torin couldn't argue with that.
He flipped the notice over.
Blank.
"No additional instructions?"
"None."
"Who's the client?"
"House Voss."
That name drew everyone's attention.
Even Brogan stopped writing.
Cass continued.
"Aldric Voss."
"Magnate."
"One of the Concord's wealthiest members."
"The relay factor said someone named Casimir Thrane handles most of his collecting."
Wren spoke for the first time.
"What exactly does he collect?"
Cass shrugged again.
"Old things."
"Strange things."
"Rare things."
"The sort rich men start buying once they've run out of practical investments."
Brogan smiled faintly.
"So..."
"Exactly like Lord Voss."
"I've heard he's been collecting for decades."
"So have I."
Torin folded the notice carefully.
"The route?"
"Hill road."
Cass answered immediately.
"Three days."
"Starts at Ashreach Transit House."
"Two villages."
"Mostly open country."
"No known monster activity."
"No active bandit reports."
She met his eyes.
"I checked."
Of course she had.
Cass rarely returned with half the information.
Torin slipped the notice into his coat.
"Get the horses ready."
Brogan closed the ledger immediately.
"I'll start supplies."
Karsh stood.
"I'll check tack."
Wren was already gathering travel packs.
No one questioned the decision.
The company needed work.
This was work.
Simple.
Reliable.
Profitable.
Hopefully.
The factor's office stood beside the main transit road leading toward Ashreach.
It wasn't impressive.
One modest building.
Fresh whitewash.
A clean sign.
Two clerks moving stacks of documents from one shelf to another.
Exactly the sort of place built for efficiency rather than appearance.
A compact middle-aged man looked up from behind the front desk as Torin entered.
"You'd be Captain Maclagan."
"I am."
The man extended a hand.
"Serwick."
His grip was firm.
Professional.
Nothing more.
He opened a small reference card already waiting on the desk.
"The Maclagan Company."
His eyes moved down the notes.
"Current standing..."
He adjusted his spectacles.
"...one hundred and ninth."
Torin nodded once.
"Three completed contracts."
"Zero abandoned."
"Correct."
"None declined either."
Serwick looked up.
"You came prepared."
"I expected questions."
A faint smile crossed the factor's face.
"So did I."
He leaned back slightly.
"The cargo is valuable."
"I gathered that."
"Fragile."
"Also expected."
Serwick tapped his pen thoughtfully.
"I've already spoken with two companies this morning."
"What happened?"
"The first demanded triple the posted rate."
"For?"
"They heard the phrase 'collector's acquisitions.'"
He smiled thinly.
"They assumed expensive meant dangerous."
Torin could almost sympathize.
"And the second?"
"They already accepted another contract."
"They weren't interested in subcontracting."
"We don't subcontract either."
Serwick seemed pleased by that answer.
"Good."
He reached beneath the counter and withdrew a leather-bound contract ledger.
"Five personnel."
"Three-day escort."
"Four silver per escort per day."
He turned the open ledger toward Torin.
"Payment released upon confirmation from receiving staff at Vossmere Estate."
He tapped another paragraph.
"This contract is registered with the Tally-Master."
"Completion improves your standing like any other."
Torin accepted the pen.
But he didn't sign immediately.
Instead...
He read every line.
Every clause.
Every condition.
Cass waited patiently.
She had seen this routine countless times.
Torin never signed first.
He read first.
Always.
His father had drilled that lesson into him before he was old enough to understand why.
Trust people.
Read paperwork anyway.
Years later...
He still followed it.
After several minutes he nodded.
"Terms are standard."
"They are."
He signed.
Serwick added his own signature immediately afterward.
Then separated the duplicate copy.
"Pickup is the day after tomorrow."
"Ashreach Transit House."
He folded the document neatly before handing it over.
"Ask for the Voss consignment."
"The crates will already be prepared."
Torin tucked the contract safely inside his coat.
As he turned to leave, Serwick spoke again.
"One last instruction."
Torin paused.
"The hiring party specifically requested careful handling."
"We're transporting crates."
"We usually handle them carefully."
"This is... more specific."
Serwick glanced briefly toward the paperwork.
"Nothing should be stacked on the marked crate."
"No heavy equipment."
"No saddlebags."
"No ropes tightened across the lid."
He hesitated.
"And nothing abrasive against the surface."
Torin frowned.
"The surface?"
"That's exactly how the instruction was written."
Odd.
Very odd.
Still...
Clients made strange requests all the time.
"We'll follow the instructions."
"I assumed you would."
Serwick offered a polite nod.
"I'll expect confirmation in three days."
Outside, the afternoon sun hung high above the road.
Torin looked once toward the distant eastern hills where Ashreach waited beyond the border.
Then he started walking home.
By the time he reached the room above the Tally's End, Brogan already had fresh supply lists spread across the table.
Food.
Horse feed.
Lamp oil.
Bandages.
Replacement bowstrings.
Every item carefully calculated against their expected earnings.
"You started already."
Brogan didn't even look up.
"I always do."
"The contract wasn't even signed."
"It is now."
Torin smiled.
"You have remarkable confidence."
"I have remarkable habits."
Brogan finally closed the ledger.
"They're different things."
Torin set the signed contract beside the supply list.
For the first time in weeks...
The room felt lighter.
Rent would be paid.
The company would survive another month.
It was, by every measure, exactly the kind of ordinary escort job they'd been hoping for.
None of them noticed that the final instruction remained visible at the bottom of the contract.
Handle the marked crate with exceptional care.
A single sentence.
Easy to overlook.
One that would soon prove to be the most important line in the entire agreement.