"Thirty ingots of pure silver a month, Perry. I need you to get that contract for me, and nothing less. You're the only one who can get it done."
Fletcher exhaled softly and took a sip of the burgundy wine before him as he sized up the local gunsmith. The glass goblet was probably the cleanest thing in this entire back room, and the front of the gunsmith's store had not been any cleaner or more inviting. But Perry's cousin was foreman of the nearby silver mine, and he needed that ore. The quality was unlike any other in Connlaoth.
"My Lord de Villiers," Perry said as he sat across from the master gunsmith, "will my utmost respect, you ask too much of me! My shop would go out of business if they ramped production of silver! Where would I get my metals for my own guns?"
"Look, Perry, I'm offering you a very good price here as the middleman, and you know I have the money to back it up. I need that silver. The money I'm paying you will cover at least a portion of your losses."
Perry sat unmoving, brows furled, and so Fletcher leaned in. "Your son Isaac. He has been apprenticing in your shop for years, and he's almost of age. What if I put in a good word for him, get him into the College and Uthlyn?"
That sparked a twitch in gunsmith Perry's eye as he looked at Fletcher with incredulity as he continued, "You do fine work here, but the College has the greatest gunsmiths in the world. Just do this one favor for me, and I will repay you in kind."
Perry opened his mouth to say something, when a voice echoed from the front of the store. He stood from the table and shook his head. "Let me think of it while I go tend to this customer. With the war going on, it's been... busy around here."
Fletcher also stood and followed Perry out, wine in hand, as the elder gunsmith stepped up to the counter. It was a lady in the storefront, but clearly not a Connlaothian. Regardless, coin was coin these days. "How can I help you, miss?" Perry asked as Fletcher leaned against the doorway of the back room, watching casually.