Chapter 40: The Coin That Lied
Fenlor leaned against the counter and looked at the innkeeper. "Hey."
The innkeeper didn't look up. "What do you want now."
Henry stepped forward. "We need to know — is there some kind of sign? A word, or something you show, so they know you're one of them?"
The innkeeper said nothing. His hands stilled on the counter.
Henry watched him — and smiled. "There is something, isn't there."
Fenlor straightened. "Tell us."
The innkeeper looked at them both. His jaw worked silently for a moment, the way a man's does when he's already made a decision he hasn't admitted to yet. Then he exhaled through his nose, reached down beneath the counter, and felt along the underside of the drawer with practiced fingers.
There was a soft click. The false bottom lifted.
Fenlor's eyes dropped to it. Henry leaned in.
"How does it work?" Henry asked.
"It was made for this specific purpose," the innkeeper said flatly. "Nothing else."
He reached inside and set the object on the counter between them.
It was a chain — thin, unremarkable — with a coin pendant hanging from it. The coin itself looked ordinary at a glance. The kind that passed through a hundred hands a day without a second look.
"That's it?" Fenlor said.
"Look closer."
Henry picked it up. He turned it over in his fingers, brought it close, tilted it toward the light from the window. His brow furrowed. Then something shifted in his expression.
"It's—"
The innkeeper finished it for him. "Fake."
Fenlor looked between them. "What do you mean, fake?"
Henry set the coin flat on the counter and pointed. "On the surface it looks like the real thing. But look at the edge — you see these cuts along the side? On a genuine coin, those are there to stop counterfeiting. The gaps between each cut are precise, even." He slid his thumbnail along the rim. "On this one, the gaps are slightly wider. And feel it — it's heavier than it should be."
The innkeeper stared at him. "How did you catch that? Even our own people get confused sometimes."
Henry smiled, quietly pleased with himself. "He he."
Fenlor looked at the coin again — slower this time — and shook his head. "Now that you point it out." He glanced at Henry. "You really are something."
"Now that we have this," Henry said, straightening, "we can start asking about Jasper Reed properly."
"Yeah." Fenlor picked up the chain and turned to the innkeeper. "We're taking this."
"Bring it back," the innkeeper said.
"We will." Fenlor pocketed it. "Do you know where we should start? Anywhere in particular?"
The innkeeper thought for a moment, tapping the counter once. "I heard they recently opened a bar somewhere in the city. Set it up to monitor someone's movements, from what I gathered. You might find people there who know something."
Fenlor raised an eyebrow. "They opened a whole bar just to watch someone?"
"That's what I heard. Got it from one of their drunk regulars." The innkeeper paused. "Something about keeping an eye on an emperor. Southeast. Blade, they called him."
Fenlor let out a short laugh. "Yeah. I imagine they'd want to watch him."
The innkeeper looked at him, confused — but didn't ask.
The bar was not difficult to find. It sat on a quieter street, unremarkable from the outside, the kind of place designed to be overlooked. They pushed through the door and into the dim interior — the smell of ale and sawdust, low conversation drifting between tables, a fire burning in the corner.
A servant appeared almost immediately. "Sirs, what will it be?"
Fenlor said nothing. He reached into his coat and held up the chain.
The servant looked at the coin. His posture changed in an instant. He turned toward the back of the room and raised his voice just enough to carry.
"Hey — regular customers. Special order."
The room rearranged itself quietly around them. They were led to a private room, the door closed behind them, and a moment later the boss arrived.
He was a broad man — unhurried, the kind of unhurried that came from confidence rather than laziness. He pulled out a chair, sat across from them, and looked at Fenlor with the flat patience of someone who had dealt with interruptions before and found them rarely worth the trouble.
"You know this isn't a place you walk in and out of as you please." His eyes settled on Fenlor. "Whatever you came for — it better be worth something. Or you'll regret the visit."
Fenlor's fist tightened at his side.
Henry stepped in smoothly. "We're the new people the innkeeper sent. We're here because we heard you file weekly reports — and we came to pass along some information."
The boss leaned back. The edge in his expression eased, just slightly. "Go on. What information?"
Fenlor met his eyes. "Word is he's still struggling. Aftereffects from the war. Hasn't fully recovered."
The boss went still. "How do you know that?"
"If you doubt it," Fenlor said, "send someone to confirm."
The boss turned it over in his mind — weighing it, testing it from different angles the way careful men do. Then he gave a single nod. "Fine. I'll look into it."
Henry leaned forward, his voice easy and curious. "We also heard the noble's personal guard is someone worth knowing. I've been looking for a master to train under — do you know where he can be found?"
The boss looked at him with something close to amusement. "He's been seen regularly at a place called Eldoria. Well-known training ground in the city. Not a place for just anyone — costs coin to get through the door." He glanced Henry over once. "Forget it, boy. He won't take you."
Before Henry could respond, a man appeared at the door. "Boss — more customers."
The boss rose, straightening his coat. "I have work." He looked between them once more, then left without ceremony.
They walked back through the streets side by side, the noise of the city moving around them.
Fenlor glanced at Henry. "Why did you say you wanted to be his apprentice?"
Henry looked straight ahead. "Isn't that how we got his location?"
Fenlor blinked. "...Oh."
A short silence.
"But," Henry said, "did you really mean it — about Rudravaan still being injured?"
"Does he look injured to you?"
Henry thought about it. "...Yeah, actually. A little."
Fenlor said nothing for a moment. His eyes moved along the road ahead — steady, already turning the next step over in his mind.
"I think," he said slowly, "we need to head to Eldoria."