Skotos Vex Maelis leaned back in his chair with effortless grace, long fingers curled around a crystal goblet of deep violet wine. From the covered terrace of the outdoor café, he commanded a view of the central canal, where afternoon boats provided a gentle soundtrack of splashes and distant voices. Across from him, two dark elf women hung on every syllable, their laughter like wind-chimes.“And then,” he said, his voice just loud enough for them and nobody else, “the High Elven ambassador had the gall to call our imported spider-silk ‘adequate for informal wear.’ Three hundred gold per bolt and that was the compliment.”Varienne, the elder-merchant’s daughter with ties to three noble houses covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “How did Lord Taranis respond?”Skotos’s smile revealed nothing. “With admirable restraint. He merely suggested perhaps the ambassador’s idea of ‘informal’ differed from ours, then offered to show superior pieces, at twice the price, of course.”The younger wom
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