In his room, he washed in silence. The blood came off easily. He cleaned his hands, face, and arms, letting the cold water wake him. The dagger rested on the edge of the basin, always nearby.
Then he dressed and followed the address the old woman had given him.
The building wasn't hard to find. It sat in the heart of Grinholt, surrounded by stalls and shouting merchants. But unlike the others, this one was quiet—too quiet. Its walls were clean, untouched by grime or age, and its wooden sign bore the image of a golden elk, though not the kind seen in forests. This elk was small, its body sleek and scaled, eyes too intelligent for a beast, and delicate wings—folded and hidden in the curve of its back—barely visible in the carving. It looked like a creature meant for myths, not markets.
Inside, it was different. Candlelight flickered low, casting long shadows. Shelves lined the walls, holding leather-bound ledgers, locked chests, and rows of crafted pouches in all colors and sizes. At the back of the room sat a man in a bright patchwork coat, his boots resting lazily on the counter.
He looked up as Reid stepped in.
"Let me guess," the man said, flashing a grin. "You're here about the gold?"
Reid nodded and placed the slip of paper on the counter. "The old woman at Shelter sent me."
The grin softened. The man sat upright, swinging his boots down. "She doesn't send many. Must think you're worth something."
He eyed Reid. "So? How much are we talking?"
Reid's gaze didn't falter. "Enough to be a Vlad."
The man let out a short laugh. "Ah. One of those." He clapped his hands once, not mockingly, but like he'd seen the same madness before. "Ambition's the only currency that spends fast in Anguth. Just don't confuse peace with comfort."
He beckoned. "Come. You'll want to see this."
Reid followed him through a narrow hallway and into a large chamber at the back. It was dimly lit, the air warmer, heavier. Lining the walls were dozens of cages, each holding a strange creature. They were no larger than cats, but they carried themselves like something older—reptilian bodies with velvet-like scales, long ears, small claws, and slit-pupil eyes that watched every movement. Thin, curved tails flicked as they shifted. Some rested. Others stared.
"Elks," the man said, tapping one cage. "Best protection your gold will ever get."
Reid raised an eyebrow. "They look like something from a forgotten nightmare."
"They're born from pact-blood," the man said simply. "They remember owners. Don't worry about the size, they scale up and down as per the need. Guard the pouches. If someone tries to take what's not theirs... well, they don't take kindly to that."
One of the creatures stirred as he spoke, its wings twitching against its back. It blinked once—slow and deliberate.
"If the owner dies," the man went on, "they swallow every last coin and vanish. No loot, no gain. It kills the incentive to rob. And believe it or not, they track every coin like a ledger in flesh. Not even a king's vault is safer."
Reid watched them in silence. The creatures unnerved him, but he couldn't deny the strange pull they had. Old. Intelligent. Bound by something deeper than instinct.
Then something else caught his eye.
In the far corner, behind a dusty stack of ledgers, half-hidden in cobwebs, was a single pouch. Black as coal, its fabric worn but untouched by time. It wasn't displayed like the others. It had been placed there, or maybe left, as if forgotten—or hidden.
Reid stepped toward it without thinking.
"Hey," he said, pointing. "That one. What's its story?"
The man's grin faltered. He walked over slowly and brushed off the cobwebs.
"That? Been here longer than I've worked. No tag. No records. And no elk ever claimed it."
"No elk?" Reid repeated.
"They won't go near it. Don't know why. We've tried." The man stepped back a little. "Some say it's cursed. Others say it's waiting."
Reid's fingers closed around it.
The fabric was cool. Not cold, just… still. As though it had been waiting for something specific. And the moment his skin touched it—something shifted. Not in the room, but beyond it. Like a wind through an unseen door.
Somewhere in the shadows, a creature stirred. Not one in a cage. Not here.
Reid didn't flinch. But his heart did.
Something had taken notice.
And it hadn't blinked in centuries.