Kael stared at the contract.
The paper sat on the counter like a trap that had learned calligraphy. Its borders were too ornate, its empty lines too eager, and the faint smell coming off it reminded him of burnt sugar and bad decisions. Baltak's claw remained pressed against the top of the page, pinning it down as if it might crawl away if left unattended.
"We can always write up a contract, dear customer!" Baltak said.
Kael looked at the Porphyrite-Gloom Ore again.
The purple chunk sat beside the Malachor Jade Ingot, ugly and unrefined, with bits of black dirt still caught in its edges. It did not look like something worth ten thousand Vanity Shards. That was the annoying part. It looked like something someone had dug out of a cursed volcano and thrown into a sack after losing three workers and half a forge.
Which, from the lore, might not have been far from the truth.
"How bad is the contract?" Kael asked.
Yenna immediately turned to him. "Kael."
