Chase grabbed the last piece of bread as he passed the table. A female chorus of complaints followed, extracting from him a bread-filled grin. He held on to the honeyed slice with his teeth as he pulled on his tight waist coat. It was a size too small—originally made for a smaller man—but at least it accentuated his wide chest.

"You leaving already?" a small voice asked.

Chase turned, his mother and four sisters watched him, but it was the youngest that spoke.

"Aye, love." He knelt beside her seat, the bread gone. "But do me a favour and promise to help ma clean up. Can you do that?"

Penny's six-year old button nose wrinkled. "I don't like doing that."

"I know, but will you do it for me?"

After careful deliberation, Penny nodded.

He left after planting five kisses on five auburn heads. Chase was the only one that had come out fair. He walked with purpose to the Silver Moon, a noble inn as close to the palace grounds as inns could get. Searching for a noble with thoughts of grandeur and power, he would at least find a name behind its walls.

Traversing the city in a noble's attire made life easy. He had forged papers for a Lord Chestwick, a nobleman of reasonable wealth from a family in the outmost reaches of Southland with interest in trading ties and deals in Lethilian.

The peacekeepers waved him through, more concerned with the ragged populace than a man in a cardigan and long coat. Chase smiled politely, pulling up his collar against the cold wind funnelling through the main thoroughfare.

He was well-known at the Silver Moon. The doorman and porter knew him by pseudonym. Both greeted him with a nod. The inn dazzled onlookers and passers-by, large and surprisingly spacious. A small rose garden led to a terrace framed with large golden pillars. No roses bloomed in the sodden garden, winter having stripped the plants of all colours, leaving only dull browns and grey stalks. The hedges somehow flourished; healthy and bright green, they traced the walkway and spiralled a pattern on either side until they met twin fountains filled with dark limpid water two breaths from freezing.

Inside, the entrance hall was grand: A check-tiled floor with golden decals enclosed by walls depicting scenes of a summer garden party in full swing; above, the multi-chambered ceiling, lined with stucco frescos of garden nymphs and sprites morphing into floral patterns spoke of the buildings true age.

"Lord Chestwick?" A bustling man with thinning hair and a full moustache met him. He seemed surprised at Chase's appearance and faltered to a hesitant stop.

"Master Ivan." Chase smiled. Ivan was of formidable size, his belly extending so far Chase thought the man had likely not seen his toes in decades. As big as he was, Ivan was sharp. He knew Chase was not who he claimed to be but tolerated his presence for his own reasons. A silent agreement existed between the two men that worked to their mutual benefit; Ivan was wise enough to know a good bargain when he saw one.

"I...uh...was not expecting you this week..." he moved closer, rubbing his beefy hands on his trousers. "You'd be wise to seek caution in these walls, Lord Chestwick. You would not want eyes to fall upon you while accompanied by a good number of possible individuals."

Chase regarded the man. "What are you talking about?"

Ivan cleared his throat. "Would you do me the decency of waiting in one of the parlours? Hep can show you. I will speak more plainly on my return, but for now I beg you to wait until you seek out whatever meeting you had arranged."

Chase smirked. "I can do that."

He was led by a scrawny youth to a parlour with a large fireplace, wooden floors covered by Cylindalian rugs and three large couches. Smaller than most, the room smelt of old fabric. A floor to ceiling window looked out on an empty garden, beyond that the stables. Not many inns provided stables for their travellers. Often, horses and carts boarded elsewhere, since space was a commodity in Lethilian. The Silver Moon, being so old, was lucky in a sense to be the largest inn and so the most sought out. Yet it was in no way the most luxurious, an incredulous fact.

Chase stared out over the gardens when the door opened. He waited for Ivan to enter and make himself known before he said anything. For a large man, Ivan walked with a surprisingly light tread. Chase was about to turn to say so when thin arms wrapped around his torso.

He jerked and relaxed almost immediately when he saw the gold adorning the fingers tipped with painted, manicured nails. He released a slow breath and waited for whoever it was to come round. No point saying the wrong name.

"Did I frighten you, my lord?" Purred a sultry voice with the slightest hint of a northern accent.

Chase looked over his shoulder and met the dark features of a woman he remembered but could not name. "My dear, you merely surprised me. I daresay your husband would even find it challenging to frighten me."

She laughed, low and sultry, and looked at him through tinted lashes, dragging her fingernails across his back, shoulder and chest as she came to face him. "I could not agree more. Why if he only knew the power you possessed in your bare hands." She brought his knuckles to her lips and kissed each knob.

Chase smiled at her, trying desperately to recall her name. The more she spoke, the more likely she would ask questions requiring he remember her, which he did in a fashion. What he remembered was her body and how it moved, he just could not recall who the movements and the soft, petal-like skin belonged to.

"I feared to hope to see you here, you know." She placed his palm on her hip, stepping closer. "My memories of my last visit were so wonderful, I thought it presumptuous to wish for a second chance at bliss."

Balls. That was a clue at least. He had not seen her in a long time. "Bliss in a Lethilian winter will be hard to come by."

"We made do last time."

Another clue. She took his other hand and placed it on her breast, smiling as an enchantress of darkness would.

"Do you remember?" she asked, stepping into the space his arms had created.

"I may need help remembering."

She leaned forward, scraped her teeth in the crook of his neck, and purred. "I have a few moments before my husband looks for me."

A shiver ran through Chase's back. He did not have time.

"Say it," she whispered.

Balls. "Say what?"

"You know what. Don't play coy with me."

He knew it had been a matter of time before she demanded knowledge from him he could not recall. He smirked, he knew which of his charms worked. The lust in her eyes flared. Victory. He grabbed the back of her neck and brought her lips to his. Talking was dangerous. She tried to pull away, but his fingers started moving and she gasped against his mouth. Hands trembled at his belt, trying to yank the buckle free.

An interruption was imminent, Chase just had to stall until it came. He'd be damned if he was caught with his pants down in front of Ivan. He pulled her hips against him, stopping her hands. She moaned against him, her arms wrapping around his back.

At last the door opened. She sprang away from him with saucepan eyes. Her hand covered her stained lips, looking from Chase to the inn keep. "I should be going." Her tone was clipped. With his back to Ivan, Chase grinned and winked his assurance. She curbed a smile and exited the room in a rustle of skirts and petticoats.

Chase dropped into one of the sofas as the door closed. The rush of air that left his lungs was like a gush of cold wind.

"I warned you to be cautious," Ivan snapped.

"I had little choice, mate. She came in and I...Who–?"

"Lady Minestone. Second wife to her lord and husband."

"Ah" —Chase remembered the name— "I have never been very good with names."

"Oh aye" —Ivan snorted— "Perhaps I should keep a ledger."

"That would be useful, but might I suggest you not label it in a fashion that could suggest anything suspicious. Perhaps make it seem a list of the most fashionable ladies. That is flattering to women."

Ivan's face was a painting of his feelings.

"Right" —Chase cleared his throat— "Believe it or not, I am here to meet you."

"Oh?" Ivan scoffed. "Sorry lad, as pretty as you are..." he spread his fingers, shaking his head.

Chase rolled his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. "I have a few questions."

"About the Grey Mountain folk?"

Chase frowned. "What about them?"

"Well, you know the prince might be meeting his future wife any day now? She is due to arrive...well...I think was due to arrive. I believe she is late. Troubles on the road most likely."

"Bandits?"

"Mayhap. More likely the girl is realising her possible betrothed is a stuffy hermit who smells of wet dog."

Chase tapped his fingers on his lips. Coincidences were not something he believed happened often. A bride for the prince was a rather auspicious occasion. Nobles were sure to be attracted to the possible celebrations in hopes of scoring a convenient invite. Being in the city at the time of the betrothal would raise their chances of being involved in its consequential celebrations. The timing of Kole's attacker and this grand event was nothing to be taken lightly. He just needed to find a single thread that connected the two and he may have a lead.

"Tell me about her. This Grey Mountain girl."

"Well" —Ivan shuffled in his seat, moving his cumbersome middle until he was settled— "I believe she comes from considerable wealth. Although, not high up in the noble ranks for Grey Mountain standards. Her nobility comes from a family that has worked for its success rather than inherited it. The Weatherstones own one of the most productive mines in the mountains and have collected quite a sum, though not much love from their land. Grey Mountain being a kingdom tied up in its traditions and old families, you see."

Chase nodded. A family with considerable wealth, and yet no respect from its equals. Was that enough to chance a hand at ruling Lethilian's underground? What did they have to gain? "So King Warrick seeks a union for wealth?"

"Most likely. If we are being frank, Lethilian has seen better days and these bloody taxes are bleeding the folk dry. Especially here in the city. I don't know what you border folk have to deal with?"

Chase narrowed his eyes at the dig.

Ivan smiled and continued. "A little extra funds would go a long way in fixing up some of the problems, would you not say?"

"Aye, but what would the Weatherstones gain?"

"Status. They would become connected to royalty."

"Yes, but royalty in a land that is not their own."

Ivan tilted his head. "Grey Mountains and the Southlands have long had a profitable trade agreement. A union between the Weatherstone girl and our monarch might strengthen the trade between the kingdoms, but it would also give the Weatherstones preference. Look, it is a mere possibility as of yet. Nothing has been decided."

Chase had little experienced with folk from the Grey Mountains. As Ivan mentioned, they were a snobbish lot, even their women were not attracted to a polished gem unless it held history and legacy. "Are there any representatives of the family in the city? Or from Grey Mountain?"

"I suppose the Coulderborns could be considered an ambassadorial family. Lady Coulderborn grew up in the land and spends the winters there with her children, while Lord Coulderborn Junior runs the estate both in the city and out." Ivan's beady eyes became suspicious. "I'd stay clear of Coulderborn Manor, lad. I don't know how you use the information you glean here, but inquiring into that family is never a good thing. They are powerful."

Chase barely heard the warning, his mind rushing ahead. The Coulderborns were indeed powerful, rich and old, but their wealth did not come from inside the city, or at least it no longer did. Their income came from the granaries and farms along the coast of the Southlands. "I should have no business with the Coulderborns. In fact, we have not even discussed my interests."

Ivan seemed to sigh in relief and crossed his legs with an inviting smile. "Let's hear it then. How can I help?"

"I am looking for a benefactor," Chase said. He paused and studied Ivan's reaction. When the man just gazed back, he continued. "Someone who does not mind funding a bit of dirty business. Someone who would find reward in gaining coin and a powerful ally on the streets." Chase leaned back. So far those motives were a fine match to a benefactor who would ally with a thief. He deduced asking towards a deal that had already been made was useless, but asking towards a deal of a similar nature might set him on the right path.

Ivan frowned. "I'll be honest, lad. The query takes me by surprise. I know you are no lord, nor a saint, but I thought you smarter than this kind of request. Tying yourself to noble coin will limit your freedom. You realise this? Now I don't mean to make your business my own, but..." he sighed. "We have had good dealings in the past, lad, can that not be enough for you?"

Chase ran his fingers through his hair. "Our dealings are not at risk, Ivan. I swear to you that my enquiries have merit. It is not the answer that I see value in, but the information that the answer might lead to. Saying little of my true intent is a means to protect not only myself, but you as well."

Ivan steepled his fingers, his wide brow tightened for a few moments as he thought. Chase waited stiff as a corpse.

"A man seeking coin or control of a man with means on the streets would be a man with no control in his own life." Dark beady eyes met Chase's. "Tagrillis has stakes in the slavers, they would not risk more. They have enough. To seek bargains with thieves is to risk the ire of the crown. So it would have to be a man who is overlooked by his liege and yet not because he lacked wealth, but because he lacked respect."

"Valid points," Chase acknowledged. He had thought as much. It was why his ears had pricked up at the mention of the Weatherstones. It made sense in a strange way for the family to come to Lethilian and seek power. With wealth behind them, all they lacked was the respect of their peers, and without an old family name, they were unlikely to find it within their own lands. So why not try it in another kingdom? However, to seek control of the underworld, that was far more worrisome. If they had employed a man to take up the mantle of Thief King, they would need leverage to keep him at heel.

"Not many Lethilian nobles would risk King Warrick's wrath. Rarer still is a Southland noble that would find profit in bedding a business deal with men who were more likely to slit throats than line noble purses. It is only the naive fool that would think controlling a man born on the streets was possible."

Chase smiled at Ivan. The man was as sharp as a dagger point. He understood the city better than perhaps the king himself, partly because of Chase. The information relayed, not exactly what Chase had been looking for, had given Chase a direction. The Weatherstones were a possible tie. There was more than enough reason for them to seek to control Lethilian's underworld, a decent amount of motivation.

If the girl did end up marrying Prince Logan, she would not only inherit a throne, but her family would inherit control over the only thing that was stopping the city's nobles from eradicating all Lethilian's filth and crime.

A knock on the door made both men stand. A porter entered, his hands clutched a cap before him, turning and twisting it as he moved from foot to foot.

"What is it, boy?" Ivan demanded.

"Sir, a lord be at the front makin' a mighty ruckus. Says he comes from the palace and be mighty angry about it."

Ivan snorted, pushing himself up with a grunt. "Lord Chestwick, business calls. I can see you to the door to make certain you are not...hooked."

Chase grinned. "That would be much appreciated."

The porter scuttled ahead of them.

"The Weatherstones, did you manage to hear what road was causing them distress?" he asked as they walked.

"The North Road. Wheel trouble was the last rumour, but it's bandits more likely."

They found the brooding noble the lad had spoken of rhythmically bouncing his hand on the marble top of the front desk, his smooth face set in a perpetual scowl. His hair was shaven, likely out of choice. His eyes flashed towards Ivan, dark anger behind their blackness.

"I have need of a room, inn keep, and fast. I am expected back at the palace shortly."

"Of course, my lord."

Chase took his leave with no auspicious movements or looks. The cadence of the man's speech was Cylindalian. He wondered what story the man came with to place him in such a foul mood. He would perhaps ask next time if it still interested him. For now, he had a plan to propose to Kole.