The walk from Garron's yard to the trade district felt shorter than usual.
Not because the streets were empty. They were crowded as ever—vendors shouting over one another, carts grinding through narrow lanes, buyers pretending they understood value until someone cheaper appeared beside them.
Riven simply had less patience for it now.
For weeks he had measured progress in daily margins. Buy two weak stones. Strip them. Improve one fragment. Sell three modified skills. Eat. Repeat.
It had worked but it had also kept him small.
Small men survived by staying beneath notice. That strategy lost value the moment stronger people began learning your name.
Selene had not threatened him for sport. She had described a reality he had been postponing.
People with reach were asking questions.
He could keep earning street money and wait to be cornered by someone better connected.
Or he could start building something before they arrived.
Riven preferred choices made early.
By the time he reached Daris's usual corner table, the decision had settled fully.
Daris was already there, seated outside the tea house with a ledger open beside him and a cup cooling untouched. He looked up once, took in Riven's expression, then closed the ledger without marking the page.
"That face means either profit or trouble."
"Can't it be both?"
"I don't think they are ever really exclusive."
Riven sat across from him.
Daris reached into his coat and placed a wrapped bundle on the table between them.
"Your share from the Wraith core."
Riven unwrapped it beneath the table.
Crisp 100 credit notes of around 20,000. More than his recent routine earnings, less than what the core was probably worth further up the chain.
He counted by weight first, then by glance.
Accurate enough.
"Looks like you've made a lot too," Riven said.
"I took a fair cut."
"You say that like it's a given."
"It often is if I'm speaking."
Riven pocketed the money. Useful amount. Not life-changing. Enough to move pieces.
Daris watched him for a moment.
"You didn't come here just to collect."
"No."
"That saves time. What do you need?"
Riven leaned back slightly, letting the street noise cover the pause.
"I need someone who can track market movement before it becomes obvious."
Daris's eyes sharpened a fraction.
"Meaning?"
"Who bought what. Which stalls suddenly empty. Which skills are being gathered quietly. Who's overpaying. Who's pretending not to."
"You want a market scout."
"Something like that but someone discreet."
Daris rested one finger against the table and tapped once.
"Discretion is a very expensive trait in our business."
"I can infer that much."
"What for?" Daris asked as curiosity got the better of him.
Riven looked past him at the passing crowd.
The wrong answer was none of his business and the truthful answer was too much of his business.
So he chose something in the middle.
"I'm tired of arriving after opportunities have already been purchased."
Daris considered that.
"You planning to trade bigger?"
"I'm planning to stop thinking like a day laborer."
That seemed to amuse him.
"There you are," Daris said quietly. "I was wondering when that thought would finally win."
"You knew it was coming?"
"Greed is always just an arm's length away." He continued "Especially when you can take skills like that out of your back pocket."
Riven said nothing.
Daris folded his hands.
"If I introduce someone good, what do I gain?"
"Depends how useful the introduction is."
"That sounded like bargaining." He said with smirk.
Riven just watched him without any denial on his face.
Daris smiled faintly.
"There may be hope for you afterall."
He glanced down the street, measuring traffic more than scenery.
"There's a runner who works three markets and two side routes. Young. Fast. Notices everything because people don't notice her. Brings information to traders who know to ask."
"Reliable?"
"She values payment more than loyalty. In this district, that's close enough."
"Name?"
"Leah."
Riven filed that away.
"When can I meet her?"
Daris checked the light outside, then the flow of bodies crossing the lane.
"She passes here near dusk if she hasn't been bought for evening errands. I usually have jobs for her."
"She meets you everyday?"
"Most of the days, unless she is making more somewhere else."
Riven let that pass. He didn't really have anything else to do after this.
"What's your cut?"
Daris looked offended.
"You think I'd tax a conversation?"
"Yes."
"It's so easy to do business with you." He said as a matter of fact.
He named a modest percentage of any deal made through the introduction.
Riven negotiated it lower.
Daris negotiated it back upward.
They settled where both men could claim private victory.
By the time dusk began staining the rooftops amber, the tea house had grown busier. Lamps were being lit one by one. The crowd changed character as workers became drinkers and buyers became gamblers.
Daris tilted his head toward the far end of the lane.
"She's early."
Riven turned.
A slim figure moved through the crowd with effortless precision, never slowing, never colliding, adjusting paths before obstacles fully existed. A small backpack hung loosely on one shoulder. Short dark hair tied back carelessly. Eyes moving far more than her posture suggested.
She looked young enough to be underestimated and practiced enough to use it.
Without asking permission, she reached their table, took Daris's untouched tea, drank half of it, and set it down.
"You owe me for last week," she said.
"I owe you gratitude," Daris replied.
"That doesn't spend."
Her gaze shifted to Riven.
Quick. Assessing. Unimpressed.
"This the buyer?"
"This," Daris said, "is a man trying to become an entrepreneur."
Leah looked Riven over once more.
"He has the face for unpaid debts."
Riven almost smiled.
"And you have the manners of a pickpocket."
"Good," she said. "Now that the pleasantries are out of the way."
She pulled out the empty chair and sat.
"What do you want found?"