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59. The Broker's Game
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 22:00:03 +0000 UTCHan pushed the door open and stepped through without hesitation. Jiang followed, the opulent quiet of the waiting room giving way to a space that was just as luxurious but far more practical.
The office was larger than he’d expected, the same dark, polished wood lining the walls, but unlike the waiting room, here the space was dominated by a massive desk that sat like a carved fortress in the centre of the room. Behind it, one wall was covered in shelves full of neatly bound scrolls, while another held a vast, detailed map of the province dotted with pins of coloured glass. Another door was set into the far wall, behind which Jiang could sense the Qi signature he’d noticed earlier.
If anything, this room felt like it belonged under a cheap tavern even less than the waiting room they’d entered from, like someone had heard a description of a magistrate’s office and had just accidentally built it in the wrong place.
The man behind the desk didn’t look up immediately. He wore a mask of polished, off-white bone, smooth and featureless save for two round eyeholes and a thin slit for the mouth. He was finishing a line of calligraphy on a scroll, his brushstrokes fluid and unhurried. The calm deliberateness of the motion was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the city streets above.
“Han,” the man said, a note of warmth in his voice as he set his brush down and looked up at them. “You took your time.”
“The roads are what they are,” Han replied, his own voice more measured and professional. “And what they are is dangerous. Had a hunch things were going bad, so I delayed my departure for a few weeks. Ran into some trouble on the way back anyway, which also slowed us down.”
Considering how easygoing Han usually was, seeing him like this was strange. Jiang hung back, content to be left out of the conversation for now and taking the opportunity to eye the masked man warily. This man wasn’t the source of the Qi signature he felt, and yet despite seeming fairly easygoing and genial… Jiang’s instincts told him that the man was dangerous.
“And the trouble you ran into? I trust it was… handled.”
It wasn’t a question of if, but how. Han’s lips thinned into a humourless line. “It was handled. Cost me three good men.”
“Expensive,” the Broker noted, his tone holding no judgment, only a clinical assessment of loss. “Especially considering I know you only hire the best. But acceptable. The cost of doing business is rising everywhere these days. Trouble seems to be the only reliable commodity.”
Han grunted but otherwise didn’t respond.
“Well, I hope you come bearing good news, at least?” the man politely inquired, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.
“Better than just news,” Han replied, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an expensive-looking oilskin pouch. “The…” he hesitated a moment, twitching towards Jiang before continuing, “…suppliers, were more eager than expected. A couple of coincidences worked out in their favour, and they decided to move ahead with the deal.”
“…Truly?” the man asked, leaning forward almost imperceptibly, the mask doing nothing to hide the sudden, sharp focus in his posture.
Han gave a slow, satisfied nod, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. He pushed the oilskin pouch across the polished wood of the desk. “They send this as a token of their… commitment. The full terms will follow by courier once the winter storms break, but the agreement is made.”
The Broker’s gloved fingers moved with a newfound swiftness, untying the pouch and tipping its contents into his palm. It wasn’t a document. It was a single, heavy signet ring carved from what looked like dark jade with a crest Jiang didn’t recognise. The Broker stared at it for a long, silent moment, turning it over in his hand. Then he let out a low chuckle, the sound startlingly honest and full of relief. The tension that had held his shoulders in a rigid line seemed to melt away.
“Faster than I’d dared hope,” he murmured, more to himself than to Han. He looked up, the eyeholes of the mask seeming to glitter with triumph. “Your hunch paid off, my friend. It seems our associates were more motivated by recent events than we anticipated.”
“The trouble on the road isn’t just on the road anymore,” Han said grimly. “It’s seeping into the towns, the farmlands. People are scared. Scared people are willing to make deals they might have balked at a season ago.”
“Indeed.” The Broker set the ring down with reverence, his posture expansive now, his earlier geniality returning, but this time it felt genuine. “And just in time. The dockworkers are a breath away from striking, the harbormaster is taking bribes so openly he might as well put up a sign, and the city watch is too busy shaking down merchants to notice the rot spreading in their own ranks.”
He gestured vaguely, as if encompassing the entire city beyond their hidden room. “This city is a hungry animal, Han. If it isn’t fed order, it feeds on itself, devolving into chaos. But with chaos… comes opportunity. This, my friend, can be our foundation to build something better.”
Jiang listened, piecing together the edges of a game he didn’t understand. It was quickly becoming clear that Han wasn’t a typical caravan master – or, at the very least, carried more than cargo on his routes – and this information Broker was trying to claw his way into power, using the city’s fear as his ladder.
Clearly, he was swimming in deeper waters than expected. He was just trying to figure out if he cared.
The Broker, seeming to remember he had another guest, finally turned his full attention to Jiang. The shift was immediate, the calculating edge replaced by a warm, welcoming curiosity.
“Now then,” he said, his voice smooth and amiable once more. “Forgive my preoccupation – and my rambling. You’ve been very patient. Han, you haven’t introduced me to your young friend.”
“Ah, yes, this is Jiang Tian – he’s a cultivator we met by chance at a trading station,” Han said, turning to Jiang and shooting him a quick smile. The warmth in the expression threw him for a moment and neatly broke the tension that had been building as he discovered all of the unknowns this situation was presenting. “He’s actually the reason the troubles we encountered weren’t the end of us,” Han continued. “Fought off three spirit beasts, then was instrumental when Kaelen managed to track us down with a group of his friends.”
The Broker’s masked gaze shifted from Han to Jiang, tilting in acknowledgement. “Well then, it sounds like I owe you my thanks. Three spirit beasts and Kaelen’s crew is no mean feat, my friend. That said, I hope you’ll forgive an old cynic’s caution, but I haven’t survived this long in Qinghe by taking things at face value. Han is a trusted associate, but even he will tell you that verification is the bedrock of my business.”
The Broker made a small, almost imperceptible gesture with one hand, a slight flick of his fingers.
An instant later, Jiang felt it – the sudden, focused attention from the unseen Qi signature in the next room. It wasn’t an attack, nor was there any hostility he could sense, and yet the hazy, vibrating field of his own Qi, the technique he’d cobbled together to smudge his presence, simply dissolved under that calm, unwavering scrutiny. It didn’t tear or break; it just… unravelled.
The failure was total and instantaneous, and in that moment of vulnerability, Jiang saw his technique for what it was: a thin, fragile web with no anchor. Perhaps enough to hide his presence when no one was paying any attention, but nothing more. The focused presence of the other cultivator hadn’t needed to smash through it; it had simply pushed, and the entire structure had come apart. It was unnerving, but a cold, practical part of his mind filed the sensation away. He could see the flaws now, the lack of a solid core, the way his Qi was too diffused.
On the one hand, it meant that he now knew several ways he could improve the technique. On the other hand, it revealed just how lucky he’d been thus far that no one had been specifically looking for him.
Luck was not going to be enough to get his family back. He had to be better.
The Broker tilted his masked head, as though listening to a whisper no one else could hear. A moment later, his posture relaxed completely, and the genial warmth returned to his voice, this time seeming entirely genuine. “My apologies again, Cultivator Jiang,” he said, and the use of the formal title was deliberate, an acknowledgment. “It seems Han’s assessment was, as usual, entirely accurate. One can never be too careful.” He steepled his gloved fingers again, the picture of a man entirely at ease. “Now, how can I help you? What information does a cultivator seek in the underbelly of Qinghe?”
At last, the reason he was here.
“The Hollow Fangs,” Jiang said bluntly. “I need to know their movements. Where they operate, where they sell their captives.”
The Broker tilted his head curiously. “A more dangerous commodity than most – were you not a cultivator, I would be inclined to warn you of the fate of those that seek out the Hollow Fangs. That is information I can certainly acquire. It is… difficult. Expensive. But not impossible.” He paused, his masked gaze observing Jiang steadily. “For a price, of course.”
Jiang’s mouth tightened. And here was the awkward part of the meeting. For a second, he grappled with how to convey his financial situation without being laughed out of the room.
The Broker seemed to misinterpret his stillness as hesitation over the cost rather than a complete lack of ability to pay it. “Of course, coin isn’t the only currency I trade in,” he continued smoothly, gesturing with a gloved hand. “Perhaps you have other assets? Spirit beast cores, alchemical ingredients… such things always have a market here in Qinghe. I am always willing to be flexible for a client of your… potential.”
The offer hung in the air, a perfectly reasonable business proposition that was utterly useless to Jiang. “I don’t have those either,” he stated simply, deciding on his approach in an instant. He would make no excuses or apologies – at the end of the day, he had value as a cultivator, and it was time to lean into that as much as possible.
This time, the silence that followed was different. It wasn’t a negotiation tactic; it was a reassessment. Han shifted his weight almost imperceptibly but remained quiet. The Broker stared at Jiang for a long moment, the featureless mask giving nothing away. Then, a low chuckle escaped him, breaking the tension.
“I see,” he said, and the warmth in his voice was back, tinged now with something like genuine amusement. “Forgive me. It has been a long time since I dealt with someone so… unburdened by material wealth.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, his posture shifting from that of a professional to something more conspiratorial, more personal. “Don’t look so grim, my friend. I know what it’s like to have ambition that outpaces your coin purse. There was a time when all I owned was the worn coat on my back and a head full of dangerous ideas. A lack of coin is an obstacle, to be sure, not a barrier. Not for men of talent, at least.”
The Broker paused performatively. “So the question is not about your coin, but your talent. What are you offering in trade, Cultivator Jiang?”
Comments
Hikingmum
Great chapter. Things are really starting to get interesting....
Raymond Mouton
Thanks for the chapter.
