Chapter 112: I Needed 12 Pounds of Black Mithril… They Hid an Entire Vein

Raven arrived at House Helmont’s western office twelve minutes before noon.

Valeria considered that an improvement.

"Last night, we arrived forty minutes early because you wanted to study the exits."

"Last night there were a hundred and twenty people, three main entrances, two secondary ones, and enough nobles to start a war if someone spilled wine on the wrong person."

"And today we’re only negotiating with a man who can legally block the thing you need."

"That reduces variables."

Valeria looked him up and down as they walked along the corridor.

Raven had returned to his usual clothes, though he kept the black coat she had bought for the reception. It was too practical to abandon simply because it had been chosen for a gala, and it had enough inner pockets to justify ignoring any comments about fashion.

Valeria had also returned to a far less formal traveling dress, dark red beneath a black coat. Even so, several people moved aside when they recognized her.

Raven had started noticing how much easier that made certain things.

He didn’t like it.

It made her useful.

He liked that even less.

An attendant led them into a spacious room with windows overlooking the foundries. From there, several ore platforms could be seen descending the mountain while columns of gray smoke rose behind them.

Lord Edric Helmont was already inside.

He wasn’t alone.

Mara Veyn stood beside a table covered in documents and mineral samples. The man Raven had identified at the reception as Oren Keller stood near one of the windows, dressed far less conspicuously than the night before.

All three important people in the same room.

That wasn’t coincidence.

Edric gestured toward two chairs.

"Mr. Ashford. Lady von Nacht. I hope you managed to rest after turning my reception into a source of rumors for half of Dunvar."

Valeria sat with perfect composure.

"That would imply rumors need assistance to exist."

Raven took the seat beside her.

"I slept well."

Edric laughed.

"I’m glad to hear it. My daughter received three questions this morning asking when your engagement would be announced."

Raven looked at Valeria.

She did not look back.

"Don’t start," she murmured.

Edric smiled.

"It seems neither of you was prepared for that part."

"Lady von Nacht improvised."

"I improvised correctly."

"That still makes it improvisation."

Mara Veyn hid a smile.

Oren Keller did not.

The director continued studying Raven carefully.

Last night had been recognition.

Now Raven was certain.

The man knew something.

Edric tapped the table lightly.

"Good. Let’s discuss something less interesting to my guests and considerably more expensive. Black Mithril."

That got Raven’s full attention.

Five pieces of metal rested on the table.

All black.

Not all the same.

Edric touched the first.

"Thirty-two percent purity. Common commercial grade. Forty-eight crowns per pound."

The second.

"Forty-one percent. Seventy-five crowns."

The third.

"Fifty-eight percent. Military grade. One hundred and sixty crowns per pound, and purchases above three pounds require registered end use."

The fourth was smaller.

"Seventy-one percent. Restricted strategic grade. Three hundred and eighty crowns per pound. Maximum private allocation without Crown review: one and a half pounds per quarter."

Then he touched the final bar.

It was barely longer than Raven’s hand.

"Eighty-one point three percent."

Raven felt the difference before touching it.

It wasn’t mana exactly.

It was the way nearby mana seemed to behave worse around the metal.

FORGE reacted.

[BLACK MITHRIL SAMPLE]

[Purity: 81.3%]

[Structural Uniformity: HIGH]

[Mana-Pressure Tolerance: EXCELLENT]

[Biological Mana Interference: HIGH]

[Prototype Rifle Structural Compatibility: 93%]

[Suitable with Isolation Architecture.]

Raven picked it up.

"This."

Edric raised an eyebrow.

"Naturally."

"How much?"

"That sample weighs eight ounces."

"I meant how much material."

"I know."

Raven waited.

Edric smiled faintly.

"Legally available for immediate private sale? Two pounds and six ounces."

Valeria looked at him.

"That’s all?"

"That is what I can move from restricted inventory today without generating a mandatory military audit."

Raven put the sample down.

FORGE had already given him an estimate.

[Estimated Raw BLACK MITHRIL Requirement:]

[Minimum: 9.8 lb]

[Recommended Acquisition Quantity: 11.5–12.0 lb]

[Reason: Refinement Loss / Structural Selection / Isolation Architecture Integration.]

Raven looked at Edric.

"I need approximately twelve pounds."

The room became quieter.

Mara stopped moving one of the documents.

Oren’s attention sharpened.

Edric leaned back.

"Twelve pounds above eighty percent."

"Yes."

"That is not a purchase, Mr. Ashford."

"What is it?"

"A procurement contract."

Better.

Contracts had numbers.

"What would it cost?"

Edric looked at Mara.

She answered.

"If twelve pounds existed in authorized inventory at eighty percent or higher, current strategic valuation would place the metal itself between five thousand and fifty-eight hundred crowns."

Valeria turned toward Raven.

Slowly.

Raven did the calculation.

That was more money than he currently had available without liquidating almost everything worth carrying.

"And fees?" he asked.

Mara’s mouth twitched.

"Refining certification. Strategic-material tax. Handling. Guild verification. Insurance during transfer."

"How much?"

"Another eleven to fourteen percent."

Raven stared at her.

"So roughly sixty-five hundred."

"If you want it legally documented and delivered."

"I’ve killed monsters for less."

Edric shrugged.

"Kill more expensive monsters."

Valeria laughed once.

Raven ignored both of them.

"What can your signature actually give me?"

Edric answered immediately.

"Today? I can authorize the two pounds and six ounces already sitting in Helmont-controlled restricted inventory."

"Price."

"Four hundred crowns per pound."

"That’s above the number you just gave."

"You’re asking for immediate release, bypassing the normal queue, while House Orbrecht has an active interest notice attached to your name."

Raven looked at him.

"Eight hundred and seventy-five crowns."

"Plus certification."

"How much?"

"Ninety."

"So nine hundred sixty-five crowns for less than a quarter of what I need."

"Correct."

"Useless."

Edric smiled.

"Expensive and useless are different categories."

"For my purposes, they overlap."

Mara folded her hands.

"You could purchase the allocation and begin testing."

"I already know the purity is suitable."

"Suitability and manufacturability are not the same."

That was true.

Raven disliked that it was true.

Valeria glanced at him.

"Could FORGE use two pounds for prototype work?"

"Probably."

"But?"

"If refining damages enough of it, I may end with nothing structurally useful."

Mara nodded.

"Which is precisely why strategic projects normally contract an entire refining batch rather than buy individual bars."

Raven looked back at Edric.

"Then contract me a batch."

"That requires a registered source."

"Helmont controls sources."

"Yes."

"And you can authorize extraction."

"From Helmont concessions."

"Then do that."

Edric smiled again.

"You continue to skip the part where I agree."

Raven leaned back.

"What would make you agree?"

"Now we’re negotiating."

Valeria murmured, "You were negotiating before."

"No," Edric said. "Before, he was asking how much the door cost. Now he’s asking what opens it."

Raven preferred that distinction.

Edric opened a ledger and turned it around.

Three columns.

Material class.

Monthly production.

Committed allocation.

"High-purity Black Mithril is not sitting in warehouses waiting for wealthy mercenaries. Helmont’s registered operations produced twenty-eight point four pounds above seventy percent last month."

Raven looked at the final column.

Twenty-six point nine pounds already allocated.

Military.

Crown infrastructure.

House contracts.

Artifact research.

Only one and a half pounds remained uncommitted.

"That doesn’t match the two pounds six ounces."

"Inventory from previous months."

"So even if you gave me every uncommitted ounce, I’d still be short."

"By approximately eight pounds."

"Ten if I want margin."

Mara nodded.

"Correct."

Concrete problem.

Raven could work with concrete problems.

"Next month’s production?"

"Already seventy-three percent reserved," Edric said.

"How long to accumulate twelve pounds?"

"At normal registered output? Four to six months if I prioritize you."

Raven’s expression flattened.

Station Four had already failed to report.

Keller Mining would be cleaning routes now.

North Shaft Seven could be empty long before four months passed.

"No."

Edric raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"I don’t have four months."

"That is generally not how mines respond to impatience."

Raven looked at Oren Keller.

"No. But hidden mines might."

Silence.

Small.

Immediate.

Edric’s amusement disappeared.

Mara’s eyes moved toward Oren.

The Keller director finally spoke.

"Do you have something to ask me?"

"Not yet."

"Then stop looking at me as though you’ve decided I’m lying."

Raven almost smiled.

"That would be a better complaint if you weren’t already worried about what I know."

Oren’s jaw tightened.

Edric raised one hand.

"Do not turn my office into an interrogation room."

Raven looked back at him.

"Fine. One question."

Edric nodded.

"Is there any registered active vein in Dunvar currently producing Black Mithril above eighty percent?"

"Registered?"

A pause.

"No."

Valeria looked at Raven.

He didn’t need to return the glance.

Registered.

Raven reached into his coat and removed one of the documents recovered from Transfer Station Four.

Not the important original.

A partial copy.

He placed it on the table.

Oren Keller recognized the seal immediately.

That confirmed one thing.

Mara read the heading.

"Keller Mining."

Edric looked at Oren.

"Director?"

Oren didn’t touch the page.

"We have hundreds of forms carrying that seal."

Raven pointed to a production entry.

"North Shaft Seven."

Nothing moved for half a second.

Then Oren’s eyes dropped to the paper.

Enough.

Raven continued.

"Official production: medium-grade ore."

Oren said nothing.

"Declared refining loss averages seven point six percent over the last six months."

Mara’s expression changed.

"That’s high."

"For Black Mithril from that region," Raven said, "apparently very high."

Oren looked at her.

Mara did not look back.

Raven placed another copied line beside the first.

"Waste transfers from North Shaft Seven increased shortly after a deeper section was declared unstable."

Edric’s attention sharpened.

"How much waste?"

"Between one hundred eighty and two hundred forty pounds per month."

Mara frowned.

"That is not abnormal by itself."

"No."

Raven tapped the page.

"But some of that waste became twenty-percent Black Mithril restraints used at Transfer Station Four."

Oren’s face hardened.

Edric stopped him before he could speak.

"Transfer Station Four?"

Raven looked directly at the Helmont lord.

"A clandestine trafficking station using Keller Mining material to suppress Bloodlines and conduct hereditary extraction experiments."

The room went completely still.

Valeria said nothing.

She didn’t need to.

Edric looked from Raven to Oren.

"Director Keller."

Oren’s voice turned cold.

"You’re accepting the word of a mercenary carrying stolen company documents."

"No," Raven said. "He’s looking at your accounting."

Raven slid the original refining-loss figures toward Edric.

"Someone has been hiding Black Mithril inside declared waste. Low-purity material went to suppression devices."

Then he tapped North Shaft Seven.

"And seven months ago, your company found a deeper vein."

Oren stared at him.

Raven continued.

"High purity."

Still nothing.

"Very high."

Edric turned slowly toward Oren.

"How high?"

Oren didn’t answer.

That was the answer.

Mara looked at the eighty-one-percent sample on the table.

Then at the production records.

"North Shaft Seven."

Edric’s voice had lost all amusement.

"Director Keller, is there an undeclared strategic-grade vein operating under a Helmont concession?"

Oren’s silence lasted three seconds.

Too long.

Raven leaned back.

His twelve-pound problem had just become much more interesting.