Run: 2026-02-22-01KJ36460NK8P14SFKG7F82HTB

The market square hummed with the chatter of a hundred tongues. Elena elbowed her way through the throng, her satchel pressed tight against her ribs. She knew the merchant wouldn’t linger—he never lingered for anyone, especially not for a girl from the outer ring. "You’re late," Gregor muttered, never lifting his gaze from the ledger. His thick finger traced down a column of numbers, his brow knitting in displeasure. Elena dropped the package onto the counter. "The bridge was washed out. I had to go the long way." "Not my concern," he snapped. He peeled back the cloth and held the crystal to the light, where it scattered shards of rainbow across the stall’s canvas roof. His frown only deepened. "This isn’t what I ordered." She’d expected that. The old man always had something to gripe about, no matter how flawless the goods. She folded her arms and stood her ground. "It’s exactly what you asked for—blue quartz, uncut, straight from the northern mines. I saw them pull it from the rock myself." Gregor turned the crystal slowly, studying every facet. He brought it close to his eye, then held it at arm’s length. Elena thought he looked like a jeweler inspecting a diamond, though Gregor dealt in far stranger wares than gems. He set the crystal down with a sigh. "Fine. But next time, wrap it properly. The edges are sharp." He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small leather pouch. The coins inside jingled as he slid it toward her. Elena scooped it up, weighing it in her palm. It felt lighter than it should. She untied the drawstring and counted: eight silver crowns. They’d agreed on ten. "We agreed on ten," she said, her voice flat. "That was before the bridge toll doubled," Gregor noted, his lips curling into a thin, practiced smile that never touched his eyes. "Take it or leave it." She took it. She always took it. The outer ring didn’t offer many options, and Gregor knew that as well as she did. Elena stepped out of the market and into the narrow alleys beyond. The sun hung low over the rooftops, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. She tucked the pouch into her satchel and quickened her stride. If she hurried, she’d reach the bridge before nightfall.