The Rosewind Mercantile Guild's marble steps gleamed like a predator's smile as Regulus approached, his arms laden with sample products and blueprints. The city planning game under his left arm let out a cheerful whistle—Helena's "improvement" that he still hadn't figured out how to disable.
A junior clerk spotted him through the stained-glass windows and immediately dropped his ledger. The resulting scramble of parchment and panic was almost satisfying.
"Lady Cordelia isn't—" the receptionist began, barely looking up from his desk.
Regulus dropped the stack of documents with a thud that made the inkwells tremble. "Tell Lady Cordelia," he said, flicking a speck of honey off his sleeve (godsdamned Phase 3), "that her favorite business partner is here to collect."
The receptionist barely glanced up as he entered. "Lady Cordelia is no longer the guild leader," she said, as if reading from a script. "If you're here for a contract settlement, you may take it up with the new boss." She gestured toward the staircase. "Third floor. End of the hall."
Regulus blinked. "She resigned?"
The receptionist's smile was practiced and empty. "Next."
Grumbling, Regulus climbed the stairs, his boots echoing on the marble steps. When he reached the office, he didn't bother knocking—just shouldered the door open and froze.
There, behind an ostentatious desk, sat a broad-shouldered man with a beard like a well-groomed hedge. And beside him, lounging in a chair with the grace of a satisfied cat, was Fillian Hellis—no, Lady Cordelia—sipping tea like she hadn't just abandoned her position without warning.
"Ah," she said, setting down her cup. "There you are."
Regulus stared. "You—what?"
The new guild leader—some merchant lord Regulus had never met—shoved a heavy purse across the desk. "Your royalties. Count it if you like."
Regulus didn't move. "You resigned?"
Cordelia's lips curled. "I did."
"Why?"
She stood, smoothing her skirts. "Because I was waiting for you."
Regulus' eye twitched. "And now that I'm here?"
"Now," she said, plucking the blueprints from his arms with effortless grace, "I'm coming with you."
Silence.
Regulus exhaled through his nose. "...Why?"
Cordelia's smile was infuriatingly serene. "Because I want to spend time with you."
The new guild leader snorted into his paperwork.
Regulus opened his mouth—closed it—then turned on his heel and walked out.
Behind him, Cordelia's laughter followed, light and unrepentant.
"The Rose and Thorn, was it?" she called after him. "I'll meet you there!"
Regulus didn't dignify that with a response. He had a feeling he was going to need another drink.
Regulus shoved open the tavern door with more force than necessary, the hinges protesting as he stomped inside. The familiar scent of roasted meat and ale washed over him—a blessed relief after the guild's perfumed politics.
Then he saw her.
Perched at the corner table like a spider in a lace-trimmed web, a maid in familiar black-and-white sipped daintily from a wine glass. Helena didn't even look up as he approached, just swirled her drink with a knowing smile.
"You," Regulus growled.
"Me," Helena agreed, popping a grape into her mouth. "The stew's good today. No aphrodisiacs. Probably."
Before he could retort, Boris' booming laugh cut through the room. "Look what the cat dragged in! And here I thought you'd be busy counting coin after—" His voice died as the tavern door opened again.
Lady Cordelia glided in like a stormfront in silk.
Regulus barely had time to slump onto his usual stool before the tavern door creaked open again. A hush fell over the room as Lady Cordelia glided in, her silk skirts whispering across the sawdust-covered floor like a challenge.
Borin's cleaver froze mid-chop.
"Ah," Cordelia said, her smile sharp as the stiletto hidden in her sleeve. "You did say The Rose and Thorn." She claimed the seat beside Regulus without invitation. "How... quaint."
Boris recovered first. "Well butter my buns," he wheezed, slamming down a fresh tankard hard enough to make the ale slosh over the sides. "The upstart merchant herself!"
Borin's eye twitched violently. "No nobles in my kitchen," he grunted, though his knife hand shook slightly.
Helena - because of course she was here, perched in the corner like a well-dressed vulture - giggled into her wine.
Regulus looked between them all, the pieces clicking together. "What? You guys have grudges?"
Cordelia plucked the tankard from his fingers and took a delicate sip. "It's a branding issue."
Regulus blinked. "Just because you both have Rose in your names?"
"That's right," Borin growled, finally bringing his cleaver down with enough force to split the cutting board beneath a hapless carrot.
Boris leaned in, his breath reeking of onions and conspiracy. "See, when her guild started muscling in on our territory a few months back—"
"—we made it clear which Rose had thorns," Borin finished, flipping his cleaver in a way that suggested he'd demonstrated this personally.
Cordelia examined her perfect nails. "And yet here we both remain. How curious."
Helena's grin turned downright predatory as she raised her glass in a silent toast to the impending bloodshed.
Regulus sighed and reached for Borin's mixed fruit juice. This was going to be a long afternoon.
The tavern's firelight flickered across Cordelia's sharp smile as she set down Regulus' stolen tankard.
"Why are you trying to butter me up anyway?" he demanded, snatching it back.
She leaned in, close enough that her perfume—gunpowder and jasmine—drowned out the ale's scent. "This was my original mission," she murmured, "before I got sidetracked by your board games business." Her fingernail traced the tavern's rose emblem carved into the table. "Now that I've resigned, I can finally finish my assignment."
Borin's cleaver lodged itself in the wall beside her head.
"Original mission?" Regulus' voice climbed an octave. "You mean—"
"—observing Regulus Nihil?" Cordelia plucked the cleaver free and licked the blade. "Yes."
Helena's wine glass shattered in her grip.
Boris whistled. "Damn. Even the mice are eavesdropping now."
A dozen tiny creatures froze mid-scurry along the rafters.
Regulus looked around. "Wait, can people use animals to eavesdrop?"
Cordelia sighed. "You really are new to city life, aren't you?" She reached into her sleeve and produced a tiny whistle shaped like a rosebud. When she blew, no sound came out—but every mouse in the tavern immediately stood at attention, tiny paws clasped behind their backs like soldiers.
Regulus stared.
Helena groaned. "Ugh, rosepetal whistles? That's last season's espionage tools."
Borin retrieved his cleaver. "I'll get the mousetraps."
"Wait, no need for the traps Mr. Borin," she said, raising a hand. "I'll remove my mice posthaste."
Borin's cleaver paused mid-swing. "Your mice?"
When she blew, the dozen frozen mice immediately snapped to attention, forming neat lines like a miniature army. With precise movements, they began marching single-file toward the tavern door.
Regulus watched, as the last mouse paused to bow before disappearing into a crack in the wall.
"...Huh," Boris said, scratching his beard. "That's new."
Helena rolled her eyes. "Honestly, using rodents in this day and age." She snapped her fingers, and a sleek black raven swooped down from the rafters to perch on her shoulder. "Avian surveillance is clearly superior."
The raven cawed in agreement.
Regulus looked between them all, then down at his juice. "I need a stronger drink."
Borin wordlessly slid a bottle of something that smelled like molten lava across the counter.
Cordelia smiled sweetly. "Now that we've settled that—"
"—we're absolutely not done talking about the mouse spies," Regulus interrupted, pointing at her with the bottle.
Helena sighed. "Welcome to high-stakes espionage, my King."
The molten lava liquor burned a path down Regulus' throat, leaving behind the distinct sensation that his esophagus had just been scoured with a wire brush. He wheezed, slamming the bottle onto the counter as his vision blurred.
"That," he gasped, "is not a drink. That's a weapon."
Borin, polishing another glass bottle filled with what looked like liquid lightning. "You get used to it."