Simon's generosity carried calculated warmth. "The northern volcanic cluster yields thirty thousand Emberstones monthly across three mines. One shall bear your name henceforth."
Kael's brows lifted. At ten gold pieces per stone, even accounting for mining costs, this pledged vein guaranteed wealth surpassing most noble houses. Yet the true value lay deeper—Emberstones' latent fire essence could accelerate his celestial sigil mastery.
"Generous," Kael acknowledged. "Though extraction logistics..."
"Entrust operations to my syndicate," Simon interposed smoothly. "Twenty percent commission covers labor and security. The remainder flows to your coffers monthly."
The proposal reeked of velvet-gloved control, yet Kael nodded. Better a monitored partnership than blood-soaked independence in Emberflame's underworld.
The contract materialized—dragonhide parchment inked with alchemical silver. Simon's quill danced, etching clauses that bound Kael tighter than chains.
"Witnessed by leyline resonance," the merchant prince declared, pressing his signet ring into wax. The seal flared crimson, binding magic flensing through Kael's celestial wards before he could protest.
The Dusk Shard pulsed a warning. Simon's smile sharpened. "Standard precaution. Ensures both parties honor terms."
Kael masked his unease with a courtier's bow. Let the snake think him tamed. The volcanic mines' true prize wasn't gold, but the obsidian depths where celestial and umbral energies colluded—depths Simon's lackeys would never dare plumb.
As night fell, ravens circled the estate. Their distorted shadows mapped the mine's coordinates to unseen recipients. Somewhere beneath the northern peaks, a blacksteel obelisk's carvings shifted, aligning with Kael's newfound holdings.
The contract's binding magic shimmered—a universal accord recognized across major kingdoms. Simon's quill-stroke finality left no room for renegotiation.
Kael's new holdings sprawled beneath volcanic slopes, their barren peaks belching sulfurous vapors. The steward—a spry septuagenarian with duelist's reflexes—gestured toward excavation tunnels swarming with laborers.
"Your domain, honored patron."
Heat haze warped the air. October's chill died at the mine's threshold, replaced by sweltering drafts that reeked of molten stone. Chains clanked as shirtless workers hauled ore carts up inclined shafts, their sweat-slicked torsos glistening under overseers' whips.
"Efficiency first," the steward noted, intercepting Kael's scrutiny. "Twelve-hour shifts, triple wages for hazard duty."
The lie hung unacknowledged. These men's sunken cheeks and scarred backs betrayed Simon's true labor policies. Yet Kael nodded—reform required capital he didn't yet command.
Deep within the main shaft, celestial markings flared along Kael's arms. The Dusk Shard's whispers crescendoed, drawn to something ancient slumbering beneath the magma flows.
"Seismic activity?" Kael feigned casual inquiry.
"Controlled detonations," the steward assured too quickly. "Standard procedure for Emberstone extraction."
As they retreated from the furnace-like depths, Kael noted fresh sigils etched into tunnel walls—markings mirroring the library obelisk's carvings. Simon's miners weren't just harvesting crystals; they were excavating a tomb.
The miners froze mid-lift, sweat-drenched faces turning toward the steward. One burly worker wiped grime from his eyes and bowed clumsily. "Foreman!"
"Fools!" The old man waved dismissively. "This is your new master—Lord Kael. Show respect!"
Hundreds of soot-streaked faces swiveled in disbelief. Murmurs rippled through the crowd—A boy? Nobility slumming?
Kael raised a hand, silencing the whispers. "Your concerns about rations and wages will be addressed. But first—this cold zone you mentioned."
A grizzled miner stepped forward, calloused hands fidgeting. "Aye, milord. Tunnel Seven's northwest fork. Frost forms on the walls, even with lava flows nearby. Like midwinter in there."
The steward stiffened. "Superstitions! Volcanic vents occasionally—"
"Take me there," Kael ordered, cutting through the excuse.
The miners exchanged glances before leading him into the deepest shaft. Heat faded with each step until their breath fogged in the stale air. Celestial markings flared along Kael's arms as they rounded a bend—and froze.
The tunnel walls glittered with hoarfrost, jagged ice formations spearing upward from the floor. At the chamber's heart stood a blacksteel monolith identical to the library obelisk, its carvings pulsing crimson in time with the Dusk Shard's hidden throbs.
"Leave us," Kael commanded, voice echoing unnaturally.
As the miners retreated, the monolith's sigils flared. A voice older than the volcano itself slithered into his mind: At last, the Keybearer arrives.