CHAPTER 140: THE WEAVING OF NETS

Within three weeks of opening The Ashen Goblet, Old Bones had transformed the quiet, subterranean-style tavern into the nerve center of an unseen empire.

While the upper tavern floor buzzed with merchants drinking dark elf pale ales and Orc officers unwinding after border patrols, the basement levels housed something far more dangerous. Deep beneath the basalt floorboards, behind three reinforced, soundproofed ironwood doors, lay a stone mapping room lined with dozens of carrier-pigeon roosts, shadow-scrying mirrors, and rows of locked filing cabinets.

Old Bones stood before a massive paper map of the neighboring Human Realm, the Kingdom of Solaria, pinned directly to a slab of slate. Small, color-coded wax markers dotted the border towns, major trade hubs, and the distant capital of Oakhaven.

"Money moves faster than steel," Old Bones muttered to himself, taking a drag from his long wooden pipe and blowing a thin wreath of gray smoke toward the ceiling.

To build an intelligence network from scratch, he didn't start by recruiting master assassins or high-tier rogues. He started with the desperate, the greedy, and the overlooked.

Using the vast gold reserves unlocked by Caius, Old Bones dispatched twenty of his most trusted dark elf shadow-agents into the border towns of Solaria. Disguised as wealthy merchants, traveling potion peddlers, and mercenary recruiters, they moved quietly through the human taverns, docks, and guildhalls.

They bought off heavily indebted dockmasters who oversaw iron shipments. They paid off disgraced noble scribes who handled military supply ledgers. They recruited impoverished human orphans in the capital’s slums to act as eyes and ears around noble estates, rewarding them with copper coins and warm bread for simple reports on carriage movements.

Every piece of information, no matter how small, flowed back to The Ashen Goblet.

Under Old Bones's meticulous direction, a dedicated team of dark elf cryptographers intercepted, decoded, and cross-referenced hundreds of daily reports. A drop in the price of grain in Solaria’s southern province meant military reserves were being stockpiled. An unusual order of silver-laced steel weapons at the royal armory hinted at anti-monster preparations. A sudden tax hike on border trade indicated the human king was quietly funding a campaign.

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Within two months, the web was fully spun.

Old Bones walked up the long stone steps of the Black Granite Citadel, holding a leather-bound dossier sealed with black wax. He entered the central grand hall, where Caius sat reviewing city blueprints alongside his puppet warlords.

"Report," Caius said without looking up, his voice echoing in the vast chamber.

Old Bones tossed the heavy dossier onto the obsidian table before his former student.

"The human kingdom of Solaria has noticed the total silence from the Shattered Steppes," Old Bones said, leaning against his cane with a raspy chuckle. "The border lords are panicking. With the rogue Orc raids completely stopping and the trade roads paved, they suspect a single ruler has united the tribes."

Caius picked up the dossier, his pale eyes scanning the detailed troop counts, noble faction divides, and border patrol schedules neatly organized inside.

"Are they mobilizing?" Caius asked softly.

"Not yet," Old Bones replied, a dark glint in his eyes. "The King’s Council is divided. The war-hawks want to launch a preemptive crusade before the 'Orc King' consolidates power, while the merchant guilds are begging to send an envoy to negotiate trade routes."

Old Bones leaned forward, his voice dropping into a low rasp. "The Duke of Alban isn't leaving anything to chance. He has personally mobilized his private network of elite spies, inserting them into the official diplomatic delegation crossing our borders next week."

Caius froze. The air inside the grand hall instantly plummeted in temperature as a suffocating, icy aura leaked from his body. The three summons flanking the throne shifted, their eyes glowing with lethal intent.

A cold, razor-thin smile broke across Caius's face.

"Excellent work, Old Bones," Caius whispered, his fingers tightening against the obsidian armrest. "Keep feeding them misinformation through your trade channels. Let them debate. Let them negotiate. When the time comes, they won't even see the blade coming."

Caius closed the dossier with a slow, deliberate snap and turned his icy gaze toward the old assassin.

"Now, Old Bones... I have a new assignment for you," Caius commanded, his pale eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Before those envoys arrive, I want every scrap of intelligence you can gather on the Duke of Alban himself. But more importantly..."

Caius leaned forward, lowering his voice into a chilling whisper. "I want you to find out everything there is to know about his long-lost daughter."

Old Bones raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his wrinkled face as he tapped his cane against the floor.

"Consider it done, kid," Old Bones rasped, turning back toward the hall doors. "I'll dig up every shadow that old Duke has ever tried to hide."