Went back to the old burned house a couple of days later, this time with proper tools and a bit more time. The forest was quiet. Managed to get the lock open without too much trouble.
The chest itself was disappointing. Most of the papers inside were badly charred and fell apart the moment I touched them. Couldn’t make out more than a few scattered words. But at the bottom lay a small metal emblem, surprisingly well preserved. A seal of some kind. I’ve never seen the symbol before, a stylized raven or something similar. Strange piece.
I took it with me. Figured it was better in my pocket than left behind for someone else to find. Made my way to Stormwind, sold off a few bits and pieces I’d picked up along the way, then found a quiet corner in one of the inns. Sat there turning the emblem over in my hands for a while. No idea what it means. No point asking around either — not until I know what I’m actually holding.
After a while I just shrugged, slipped it back into my pocket and went back to my meal.
That’s when a man in a plain cloak approached my table. Too ordinary. Too careful.
He knew my name.
“Heard you handled that business up at the mine well enough,” he said quietly. “The kind of work most people won’t touch. We sometimes have need of people who can be… discreet.”
He slid a small pouch across the table along with a folded note. Decent coin inside, and instructions on the paper. A goblin trader down south has been moving more than just goods. They want to know what, and who, he’s really working for.
“No heroics. Just information. Think of it as a small favor.”
I should probably say no. But the coin is good, and my curiosity is louder than my common sense lately.