The Trader's smoke shifted, swirling lazily around him, but his tone betrayed his amusement.
"What a… very good piece of information," he said. "That certain someone will be quite happy to hear it. But tell me, dear VIP—what is it that you want for it?"
Isaac studied him for a moment, weighing just how much he should reveal.
"First—just to make this fair—the certain cure is in a dungeon outside town. Low-level dungeon. The cure is just a herb… but only I know where it grows."
He paused, then added, "And I'm the only one who knows how that herb is used. Even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to make it work."
The Trader raised a hand, cutting him off. "Let's not overcomplicate things. What is it that you want?"
Isaac smiled faintly.
"I want to borrow Trish for a day… and a sword."
The Trader tilted his head. "And I presume you want them for this dungeon run? To retrieve this cure for me?"
"More or less," Isaac replied. "I have my own reason for going there. But that's… information I'm not willing to sell."
The Trader leaned back, resting on one elbow. His voice was slow, deliberate.
"That is interesting. But I'm not quite convinced yet…"
He tapped a finger on the desk, then let out a small chuckle.
"Still, since my last gesture of sincerity apparently wasn't enough… I'll give in this time."
Isaac's smirk deepened. "Oh, trust me. You won't regret it."
The Trader straightened in his seat. "When do you need them?"
Isaac didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and set it on the desk.
"I wonder," he said casually, "how that alchemist I introduced to you is doing. Isn't it rude that he hasn't returned the favor? I did get him this job in your fine establishment, after all."
For a moment, the Trader was silent. Then the laughter came—low at first, then rich and full.
This was why he liked this particular VIP.
Every conversation between them was like a chess game, and more often than not, he found himself wondering if he'd already been checkmated.
He unfolded the paper, glancing over it. "Herbs… interesting ones. Is this the recipe? I'll give it to James, the alchemist. Is this for the Gate?"
Isaac nodded. "Yes. I'll need a few of those. You'll figure out their purpose soon enough—after all, one of your people will be coming with me."
He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway.
"Two days. That's all the time you have—to make up your mind and prepare the items. If you turn the paper over, you'll find the location of the dungeon. I'll be waiting there."
The Trader smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"Trust is the foundation of my business, Mister VIP. Worry not—we'll deliver everything you want… on time."