That man was like a fox, grinning at her from across the table with a telltale conniving glint in his icy blue eyes.

Oleander felt her stomach become a pit of churning anxiety as she caught that glimmer, and tugged down the hood of her cloak to cover her face more. She’d already been made aware of his dubious intentions after their last deal, but she couldn’t afford to turn him away. She could hardly afford to turn any work away. 

Not in this city.

Even so, it was hard to contain her slowly bubbling rage that urged her to punch that smug grin straight off his face. If there were any other information brokers in this city, she’d go to them in a heartbeat. Pickings for brokers were slim, even when she arrived months ago, and she had long since found the answer as to why.

He had a monopoly on the market. Or maybe it was more apt to call it a choke-hold? 

The fact that he knew he was her only option for her work was what added a certain insult to the injury of it. And his obvious relishing in that fact as of late was beginning to irk her. 

She just had to keep reminding herself that his goods were valuable to her; that he was just a business associate and nothing more. All she had to do was play nice and be an amicable little customer with him; no matter the price he waved in her face.

He was no fool. He might not have known the true worth of what he was selling, at least not to her, but that wouldn’t stop his greed. It was the only truth when dealing with him that she could ever rely on.

“So, let me guess, you’ve got details on some new ruins? Am I right, Darcy?” Oleander kept her voice down while idly playing with a stray strand of her raven blue hair. She was doing her best to mask her own nervousness, feeling wary of the few patrons at the other tables.

“Right on the money as always, my dear,” with a gravely chuckle he set down a thickly bound leather dossier on the table between them, keeping one hand on top of it with a guarding grip, 

She shuddered at his last words, gritting her teeth behind a subtle frown. They’d been through this same song and dance before, and she was tired of correcting him at this point. 

Folding her hands against the edge of the table, she kept her eyes on the dossier to quell her rage, “I hope this is worth my while, Darcy. Last one was a crane, not a raven. I don’t appreciate being called out to a place like this for nothing.”

“Oh come now, The Thirsty Fish is one of the best taverns in this part of Colchester!” Darcy remained nonchalant, running his free hand against his slicked back brown hair with a grin.

“In the seediest part of it…” Oleander added with a sigh, before starting to rummage through her messenger bag under her cloak. 

She could already feel the eyes of the other patrons burning into her, and didn’t put it past Darcy to have more than a few of them be there on his payroll. It was just the sort of racket he was known for running. But she would do nearly anything for information on the White Raven. It was the only reason she was willing to even work with him at this point.

“It’s not that bad, my dear.” He dropped that pet name again on her, giving her a smile that did little more than upset her stomach.

Her frustration was already at its limit after their last meeting, and she abandoned her rummaging to slam one hand onto the table. She wanted to tell him to cut the crap, to stop calling her dear, but bit her tongue on it. 

Regret soon overtook her as she noticed everyone staring for her outburst, and held out her hand for the dossier, “Can I take a skim through it?”

Just finish the transaction, then you can leave. That’s what she kept telling herself in her head.

Of course he wasn’t going to make it that easy for her, pulling it back towards him a little bit with a shake of his head, “Oh you know my policy, Miss Lynch. Payment up front.”

“And you know I won’t buy anything less than the real deal. I’m still pretty sour from the last one being a crane. I need to check it this time or I’m leaving.” She wasn’t going to give him an inch on this, not after the trouble she went through last time.

“Shrewd as always. Have it your way.” He pulled the dossier towards him and passed her the first three loose pages of its contents, “Sketches from a scout from the mapping branch of the adventurers guild of the ruins entrance. That should be enough to satisfy you, yes?”

“Barely…” and she meant it but the details to the sketches were accurate enough she could tell it wasn’t a forgery. There was even a rubbing of some of the stone carved text on the bottom of one sketch, the weathering of the stone captured on the paper with the charcoal.

This was enough for her to know it was real.