Sealed and Delivered

We broke camp early at Dammon’s suggestion and my decision, the cave hollow giving way to a cloudy, **** morning. Mist clung low between rocks and scrub, and the air still carried a faint, stale trace of burnt hair from yesterdays battle.

I stepped out first, checked the remnants of yesterday’s battle, then the road. The others followed, falling into place without needing to discuss it. Lae’zel took my left, already scanning for threats. Karlach came out next—and, for a second, didn’t fill the silence the way she usually did. She looked ahead, jaw tight, then mechanically moved ahead.

Shadowheart and Kagha emerged mid-conversation.

“—too much grey,” Shadowheart said, amused. “It doesn’t suit you. Try adding black.”

“For concealment?” Kagha asked.

“For effect,” Shadowheart replied. “Though concealment is a pleasant side benefit.”

Kagha’s gaze flicked toward me. “The contrast would draw the eye first.”

Shadowheart smiled. “That’s the point. And it fits every occasion—like a good wine.”

“...I see.”

“—And you can never have enough of either—”

I left them to it. Clothes weren’t my expertise—unless it was deciding what came off next.

We started down the pass.

The road stretched ahead in a long, uneven ribbon of packed dirt and stone, climbing and dipping along the mountain’s spine. Wind moved through the high grass in slow waves, carrying the distant creak of broken wagons and the faint rattle of loose rock. The path narrowed in places where the cliff pressed close, then opened again to tease magnificent views over the river below.

Finally after what felt like hours the road opened toward Waukeen’s Rest. What remained stood in blackened frames and sagging roofs, smoke drifting in thin, lazy strands. No voices. No movement. Nothing left to loot—we’d already seen to that.

“Still looks like shit,” Karlach muttered.

“You can say that again,” Shadowheart said.

Lae’zel scanned the ruins. “No new threats appeared.”

“Good,” I said. “We’re not staying either.”

We cut straight through and into the barn, the hidden trapdoor giving way with a push. Stone replaced ash as we descended, the air cooling, the world narrowing into torchlight and carved rock.

The Zhentarim hideout had seen no changes—busy, watchful. Crossbows stayed lowered this time.

Zarys stood at watchful at the top of a cliff, arms folded, her posture relaxed yet restrained. Her eyes moved over us with a hint of relief.

“So. You survived. Good.”

Her gaze settled on me. “Would’ve been a shame if you’d ended up as goblin shit.”

“High praise,” I said. “I’ll frame it on the wall.”

A breath of amusement, and a few too many blinks.

“So why are you back?” she asked. “You already got the good stuff.”

“I found this on the way.” I procured the chest from the gnoll cave. “Thought you might find want it back?”

The shift was immediate.

Zarys moved down in an instant and crouched over the locked treasure. She traced the lock with quick, practiced hands, checking the seams, ran a nail along the hinge line. No words for a few seconds—just careful assessment.

Then, quietly, “Still sealed.”

Her eyes snapped up. “Where did you get this?”

“Gnolls” I simply said. “Found it with a few of your people. Or what was left of them.”

Something tightened behind her eyes. Not grief—accounting.

She stood, looking at me more carefully now.

“You could’ve kept this,” she said. “Walked away, sold it, disappeared. No witnesses. No obligations.”

A slight tilt of her head. “Why come back?”

“Because I need your help.”

She didn’t answer. Just watched.

“We need a way into the Underdark.”

One brow lifted a fraction.

“Oh, do you now? That can be arranged.”

She moved quickly, slipping the chest into a pouch that swallowed it whole.

“I need something else,” I said.

Her eyes flicked back to me. “We already gave you a discount. And the smokepowder.”

“We captured the drow,” I said. “You got what you wanted.”

Silence filled the air for a moment.

“You captured the...” she stopped herself. “So what do you want?”

“Black metal,” I said. “Warm to the touch. I know you—”

“Shhhh!”

She stepped in, a finger raised, her gaze suddenly sharp. “How do you even know about that?”

“I don’t name my sources.”

Another pause, followed by a small, satisfied smile.

“Correct answer.”

Her gaze flicked around the room, measuring who might be listening, then returned to me.

“I don’t negotiate this kind of thing out here,” she said. “Follow me.”

Then, more pointedly, “Alone.”

She turned and started walking.

I glanced back—

“NO.”

Karlach’s voice cracked across the grotto. Heads turned.

She stepped in beside me, boots heavy on stone. “You’re not getting into trouble again,” she said, tapping my chest with a finger that carried more **** than necessary. “Not without me.”

She took my arm and held it. Her heat noticeable through the fabric.

Zarys stopped and looked back. Her eyes dropped briefly to Karlach’s grip, then rose again, interest sharpening.

Shadowheart covered a smile with her hand.

Lae’zel looked to Kagha. Kagha gave a small, approving nod. Lae’zel returned it without hesitation.

Zarys exhaled through her nose. “Fine. Bring your bodyguard.”

Her gaze swept the others. “The rest stay.”

Karlach's grip tightened. “Good,” she muttered.

We followed Zarys into a narrower corridor, away from the main chamber. Torches thinned out. The air cooled further, sound dampening as the stone closed in.

She stopped at a side room—half storage, half office. Crates were stacked neatly, a table cleared in the center. No one else inside. No witnesses.