Active [Ryke Frostiron Hollow Mine] Hardy Weakened Digging

[Novama]

OOC: here we go. probably gonna be some downtime around new years but otherwise should be able to keep this briefish. think we were shooting for a week or 2 and grabbing a mine asset for ana.
Time: Late afternoon
Weather: mostly overcast and drizzly with promise of snow
TLDR: Garrick waits for ana to follow him into the frostiron hollow mine.
Mentions: Ersatra
Listening:

Frostiron Hollow Mine

​

The foothills of the paizu mountains in the north east of Ryke were a bleak expanse of gray and brown, with only the stubborn green of hardy pines breaking the monotony. Low clouds churned overhead, casting the land in muted shades. A faint, bone-chilling drizzle fell steadily, collecting in shallow puddles that mirrored the brooding sky. The air was cold enough to nip at exposed skin but not yet cold enough to freeze, though the occasional gust carried the biting promise of snow.

The Frostiron Hollow Mine’s entrance loomed ahead, its sturdy wooden beams framing a dark tunnel that yawned like a wound in the mountain. Around it, the bustle of labor persisted despite the weather. Miners worked with a quiet efficiency born of routine, their clothes and faces smeared with dirt. Pickaxes struck stubborn rock with rhythmic clangs, their echoes mingling with the groan of overworked machinery. The scent of damp earth and metal was thick in the air.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the mine—a stout dwarf with a broad chest and shoulders that seemed carved from stone. Garrik Stoneforge, his beard braided and gray, surveyed the scene with sharp, appraising eyes. A prominent scar curved across one cheek, his unwavering glare suggested a dwarf used to hard work and harder decisions. He wiped a gloved hand across his brow, smearing more dirt than he removed, before his gaze settled on the approaching Anastasia.

“Well, pick up the pace!’,” Garrik called out, his voice rough as the mountain itself. He beckoned with one hand, the other gripping a book pages half filled with scrawled notes. “Come on, then. We don’t stop workin’ just ’cause we’ve got guests. I’ll show you the lot we’re dealin’ with.” Garrik made it clear he had no time for pleasantries while on shift.

Garrik stepped aside, his expectant expression clear as he waited for Anastasia. Around him, miners cast curious glances, some murmuring to one another before resuming their tasks.

​

 

[Ersatra]

Anastasia Von Arbin


Anastasia approached the mine with measured steps, her boots crunching against the gravel-strewn path. The dreary weather seemed to suit the austere beauty of the scene, and she allowed herself a moment to absorb the raw, unyielding atmosphere. She could feel the cold drizzle seeping into the edges of her cloak, the sharp bite of the mountain air invigorating her senses rather than deterring her.

Her crimson eyes fixed on Garrik Stoneforge as he emerged from the mine, a figure embodying the resilience of the mountains themselves. She had done her research on the dwarf—an astute leader, known for his no-nonsense approach and his tenacity in the face of challenges. This meeting was not just about assessing the mine’s value; it was also about gauging the man who led its operations.

“Master Stoneforge,” Anastasia greeted him with a nod, her tone poised yet cordial. She allowed a faint smile to grace her lips, though it was tempered by the seriousness of her demeanor. “Thank you for taking the time to meet me amidst your busy day. I assure you, I won’t keep you from your work for longer than necessary.”

She stepped closer, her gaze briefly scanning the scene behind him. The rhythmic clang of pickaxes, the distant whirr of machinery, and the subdued determination of the miners painted a vivid picture of industry. This was no idle operation, and Anastasia appreciated the discipline it took to maintain such an endeavor in these harsh conditions.

“I’ve come prepared,” she continued, her voice steady as she adjusted her gloves. “The Frostiron Hollow Mine has earned itself a good reputation, and as my letter stated, I believe it holds untapped potential. My interest lies not just in its current output but in what could be achieved with the right investment and vision.”

Her gaze returned to Garrik, meeting his sharp, appraising eyes without flinching. “I’d like to see the mine firsthand and speak with you about its operations, its challenges, and its future. I understand this is no simple transaction.”

Her tone carried both conviction and curiosity, an intentional balance to appeal to Garrik’s practical sensibilities. Anastasia knew that words alone would not sway him; she would need to demonstrate her understanding of the mine’s value and potential, as well as her willingness to contribute to its success.

She gestured toward the entrance of the mine with a slight tilt of her head. “Shall we begin, Master Stoneforge? I am eager to see what lies beneath the surface.”

Abilities In Use:
[Narrative Booster - Striking a Business Deal]
Novama ​

 

[Novama]

OOC: new year and going delving already. probably won't count 'dealing' until they actually sit down later to deal.
Time: Late afternoon
Weather: mostly overcast and drizzly with promise of snow
TLDR: garrick leads ana into the mine and checks to see if she still interested after revealing a couple of the issues they face
Mentions: Ersatra
Listening: Echoes of the Hollow by @novama | Suno

Frostiron Hollow Mine

​

Garrik’s eyes narrowed at Anastasia’s words, though not in hostility. The faintest twitch of his scarred cheek hinted at amusement. He let her finish, then leaned his weight on his pickaxe, his shorter frame grounding him like the mountain itself.

“Good reputation, eh?” he echoed, his voice carrying the rough timbre of crushed stone. “Aye, Frostiron Hollow did have that once. Back when the veins were rich and steady, and the lads had reason to whistle while they worked. Those days are gone, miss. What we’ve got now…” He gave a faint shake of his head, his beard swaying with the motion. “Well, it’s somethin’ you’ll need to see for yourself. No point sugarcoatin’ it.”

He gestured toward the mine’s opening, its reinforced beams slick with rainwater. The damp wood groaned faintly under the weight of time and weather. “This way. And mind your step—ain’t no marble floors down there.”

The path into the mine was uneven and slick, with mud caking the edges of the track. Garrik led with a steady, practiced gait, his boots crunching over loose gravel and puddles with ease. For Anastasia, however, the journey was less forgiving. Each step sent flecks of muck splattering against the hem of her cloak and boots, and the damp air quickly turned cloying. The faint sulfurous tang of ore and wet stone filled the narrow entrance, making it clear that luxury had no place here.

Inside, dim lanterns lined the rough-hewn walls, casting flickering light on the veins of ore that glimmered faintly in the rock. Garrik stopped near a patch of stone where a pair of miners worked with strained determination. Their pickaxes struck the wall with force, but the effort yielded only paltry shards of dull ore.

“Depleted veins,” Garrik said bluntly, his voice cutting through the clamor. He gestured toward the workers. “This is what’s left of the good stuff. Richest veins have been tapped out, and what’s left takes twice the work for half the yield. You want potential? You’ll need to dig deeper, reinforce the shafts, and pray to the gods you hit pay dirt before your purse runs dry.”

As they moved further in, the oppressive atmosphere became heavier. Wooden support beams groaned under their own weight, one visibly cracked near its base. Garrik slowed, his brow furrowing as he tapped the beam with the butt of his pickaxe. A faint vibration rattled down its length.

“Structural instability,” he muttered, loud enough for Anastasia to hear. “Reinforcin’ beams costs coin, and what you see here”—he rapped the beam again—“is what happens when you cut corners. Sooner or later, corners cut back.”

He turned to face her fully, brushing his gloves off on his already filthy apron. The faintest wisp of a smile curled his lips, though his tone remained pragmatic. “Still interested, Lady? If so, I have more to show you on our tour, and you can tell me in my office after how you plan to turn this sorry heap into the gem it used to be. Assuming you’ve got the stomach for it.”

Behind him, the mine stretched further into darkness, the flickering lanterns barely keeping it at bay. The faint echoes of dripping water and strained labor filled the air as Garrik waited for Anastasia’s reply.

​

 

[Ersatra]

Anastasia Von Arbin


Anastasia’s expression remained composed as Garrik spoke, her crimson eyes following his gestures and lingering on the evidence of the mine’s current state. She stepped carefully through the muck, the flickering lanterns casting erratic shadows across her figure. Her cloak bore the marks of the path—splattered mud and damp edges—but she paid it no mind. Such superficial inconveniences were beneath her notice when the heart of the matter lay before her.

As they paused by the depleted veins, she observed the miners with keen interest. Her gaze moved from the shards of ore in their hands to the labor etched into their weathered faces. She nodded faintly, acknowledging the reality Garrik presented but showing no sign of discouragement. “Depleted veins are not the death knell they seem to be, Master Stoneforge. Otherwise, I doubt you all would still be so dedicated to mining these leftover scraps. I might not know much about the art of mining but I can tell when people have or haven't lost all hope.”

When he pointed out the structural instability, Anastasia’s gaze followed his gesture, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. She stepped closer to the cracked beam, inspecting it with care. She placed a gloved hand lightly against the wood, as if to feel its strain for herself. The sound of Garrik’s pickaxe rapping against it drew her focus back to him, and she listened intently to his pragmatic warnings.

Finally, she straightened, her chin lifting slightly, the flickering lanterns catching the crimson glow of her eyes as she addressed him. “I appreciate your candor, Master Stoneforge. It is rare and valuable in negotiations of this nature. I would be disappointed if you attempted to paint over the mine’s flaws with false promises.” Her voice was steady, almost serene, but carried a quiet intensity that refused to be ignored.

“I remain interested,” she continued, her tone firm, “because I see the same potential that built Frostiron Hollow into a name worth speaking of in the first place. What others may view as a lost cause, I see as an opportunity. The depleted veins tell a story of a mine that once thrived, and with the right resources, I believe it can again.”

She turned her attention back to the darkness stretching beyond them, her expression contemplative. “The reinforcements you speak of? They would be among my first priorities. Structural stability is not only a matter of safety but a foundation for the deeper excavations that will be necessary to revitalize this mine. As for the veins, I intend to bring in experts—geologists and engineers—to assess the deeper layers and identify untapped resources.”

Anastasia turned back to Garrik, a faint smile touching her lips. “As for my purse, I assure you, it runs deep enough for this endeavour and will only grow deeper. But I suspect you would prefer to hear the finer details over a stronger light and perhaps a stiff drink. Our conversation can wait. Let us finish the tour, and I will outline my vision in your office. I trust that should I take ownership of Frostiron Hollow, I can count on your experience and fortitude to ensure its revival?”

She extended a hand toward the darkened depths of the mine, a gesture both to continue and to signify her willingness to forge ahead, despite the daunting challenges laid bare.
Novama​

 

[Novama]

OOC: sorry for delay. Next round will be them moving to his office to have the details hashed out and to try and get his willingness to agree to her acquisition.
Time: Late afternoon
Weather: mostly overcast and drizzly with promise of snow
TLDR: Garrik seemed unconvinced so far, but showed ana the other 3 major issues plaguing the mine.
Mentions: Ersatra
Listening: Echoes of the Hollow by @novama | Suno

Frostiron Hollow Mine

The flickering lantern light cast shifting shadows on Garrik’s face as he leaned slightly on his pickaxe again, studying Anastasia with wariness. He scratched his beard, the faint rasp of his glove against the wiry braid filling the brief silence.

“Hmph,” he grunted, his tone measured but carrying a faint edge. “You talk about Frostiron like it’s a sleeping giant waitin’ to be woken. Naive or a fancy way to rally morale. Either way, it don’t mean much to me without seein’ the coin and the plan to back it. My lads don’t need talk—what they need is proof things’ll get better.”

The mention of reinforcing the tunnels, however, drew a nod. “That bit, I like. These shafts are holdin’ on by the skin o’ their teeth. Seen too many mines go under, not from lack o’ ore but from a lack o’ proper reinforcin’. Build it solid, and the rest might follow.”

He tapped his notebook with a finger, a skeptical look crossing his face as he repeated, “‘Geologist.’ What’s that? Some kind o’ earth mage? They dig through stone with spells?”

He held up a hand and narrowed his eyes. “Careful with that notion, Lady Purse,” he said, tossing out the nickname without ceremony. “Earth magic’s a dicey business in a mine. A skilled mage can strengthen walls or unearth veins quicker than a pickaxe, sure, but a careless one?” He shook his head, his voice sharpening. “One wrong spell, and they’ll shatter a support or flood the lower shafts with loose rock. A lot o’ good that’ll do us.”

The briefest twitch of his lips might have passed for a smirk when she mentioned discussing things over a drink. “Bold of you, thinkin’ a drink’ll loosen a dwarf when it comes to business. I don’t mix the two. But maybe you’ll need the stiff drink after this tour’s done.”

With that, Garrik gestured for Anastasia to follow deeper into the mine. The tunnel sloped downward, growing colder and more oppressive as they went. The faint tang of sulfur became more pronounced, and the sound of pickaxes gave way to an ominous stillness. They stopped at a stretch where a broken mining cart lay on its side, its rusted wheels crooked and useless.

“Logistical headaches,” Garrik muttered, motioning toward the wreckage. “Transportin’ ore outta this place’s been a nightmare. Carts like that one break faster than we can patch ’em, and the wagons up top struggle on those cursed roads. Even if we find a good vein, gettin’ it out’s a challenge.”

They moved further still, reaching a cavern where water pooled on the floor, forming a sluggish stream that trickled into the depths. Garrik gestured to the puddles. “Floodin’. It’s constant, and the artificer's pumps barely keep up. More water comes in than we can pull out. You’ll need a proper drainage system if you’re thinkin’ o’ diggin’ deeper.”

Finally, they stopped at a narrow tunnel lit by a single, sputtering lantern. Garrik tilted his head toward a worker hammering at a dull seam in the rock. The man paused and wiped his brow, revealing worn gloves held together by desperation and luck.

“Low morale,” Garrik said plainly. “Can’t blame ’em. Pay’s fair but nothin’ special, and safety’s worse than it should be. They work hard, but it’s for scraps.” He turned back to Anastasia, his looked at her more sternly than before. “That’s the last o’ the big ones, Lady Purse. You’ve seen the good, the bad, and the worse. Now, you tell me—what’s your vision worth to this place?”

 

[Ersatra]

Anastasia Von Arbin


Anastasia stood quietly, absorbing Garrik’s words and observations as they pressed further into the mine’s depths. Her polished boots were smeared with mud and streaked with wet grit, her cloak heavy with dampness. Yet her bearing remained unshaken, the flicker of the lantern light casting her sharp features in stark contrast. She did not flinch at the grim state of Frostiron Hollow; if anything, her posture seemed to grow more resolute with every grim detail Garrik offered.

When he asked about the “geologist,” she smiled faintly, the corners of her lips quirking upward with a touch of amusement. “No spells. No reckless magic,” she assured him. “A geologist is a specialist in reading the earth—examining the rock’s natural formations to find where the veins are richest. Science, not sorcery. Though I have no qualms about consulting an artificer for the pumps. Perhaps we’ll be more creative with a solution there.”

As they reached the flooded cavern and the broken cart, her gaze lingered on the puddles of water, her expression thoughtful. She crouched slightly, her gloved hand brushing the floor to feel the cold wetness. “Flooding, unstable roads, broken carts… all of these are solvable, Garrik. These problems aren’t unique to Frostiron Hollow. They’re common afflictions of neglected mines—and there is always a way to remedy them.”

When they arrived at the narrow tunnel and she saw the weary miner hammering away with frayed gloves, her expression softened, though her gaze remained steady. The man's exhaustion was a reminder of the human cost behind the operation—a cost she was unwilling to ignore.

Straightening, Anastasia finally turned to Garrik, her crimson eyes meeting his hardened gaze. Her voice, when she spoke, was firm but not cold. There was a spark of passion beneath her polished tone—a clear sign that she wasn’t here on a whim.

“My vision for Frostiron Hollow is simple,” she began. “I intend to make it profitable again. Not just for me, but for everyone involved. Your miners deserve better than scraps. They deserve safety, fair pay, and stability. I don’t want them swinging pickaxes at depleted seams with nothing to show for it but worn gloves and aching backs.”

She took a step closer to Garrik, her cloak shifting slightly behind her. “I will invest in proper reinforcements. I will commission a drainage system that doesn’t rely on half-broken pumps. And I will upgrade the roads so that when we find richer veins, the ore won’t rot in broken carts at the mine’s entrance.”

Her gaze swept the tunnel behind him before returning to his face. “I’ll be honest with you—I don’t expect a quick return. Reviving Frostiron Hollow will take time, effort, and no small amount of capital. But I’m prepared to see it through. And when this mine is back to turning a profit, I’ll make sure the men and women working it see those profits reflected in their wages.”

She paused, letting her words settle, then added, “As for my personal stake? The company overseeing the revitalization will be registered under the name Ava. It’s a pseudonym of mine, one I intend to shed soon. But for now, let it be known that I am the driving force behind this effort. I’m not here to make hollow promises. I’m here to rebuild.”

Anastasia folded her hands behind her back, her expression calm but unwavering, her eyes wandering back up the shaft they had descended. “Now, then. Little rockblaster. Shall we get down to business? You owe me a drink.”

Abilities In Use:
[Narrative Booster - Striking a Business Deal]
Novama ​

 

[Novama]

OOC: dealing time. technically now is the time to start the deals making stuff XD
Time: Early Evening
Weather: mostly overcast and drizzly with promise of snow
TLDR: garrick leaders her out of the mine to his 'office' to iron out some more of the financials.
Mentions: Ersatra
Listening:

Frostiron Hollow Mine

​

Garrik crossed his arms as Anastasia spoke, his sharp eyes narrowing in thought. He nodded to himself. Despite the gesture the dwarf remained cautious.

“Fair enough, Lady Purse,” he rumbled, his tone carrying less edge than before. “You’ve got plenty o’ fine words, I’ll give ya that. Talk o’ better pay and safety for my people is all well and good. But know this—fixing a mine ain’t just about coin and ambition. It’s blood, sweat, and stone. These folk’ve given plenty o’ that already.”

He let the words hang in the damp air for a moment before nodding toward the tunnel entrance. “Right, then. Let’s get back topside. You’ve seen what Frostiron’s got to offer—and what it don’t. Now we’ll talk business.”

Turning, Garrik led the way back up the uneven path. The ascent was just as rough as the descent, with loose gravel and slick mud making every step a challenge. The chill in the air grew sharper the closer they got to the surface, and by the time they emerged, the drizzle had turned to a cold, persistent snow.

Garrik led Anastasia to an alcove carved into the mountain near the mine’s entrance. It was simple but functional—a heavy wooden table and a few mismatched chairs sat under a sturdy overhang. The faint glow of a brazier provided some warmth, and a shelf of ledgers and tools lined one wall. Garrik gestured toward a chair.

“Take a seat,” he said gruffly, moving to a small cabinet tucked in the corner. “I’ve got ale and somethin’ stronger. I don’t drink on the job, but you’re welcome to it. Just don’t think it’ll win you points.” He grabbed a pair of mismatched mugs and set them on the table, pouring for her if she chose.

Garrik settled into his own chair with a heavy sigh, his gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. His notebook landed on the table with a solid thunk. “Alright, Lady Purse. You’ve seen the mine, and you’ve got ideas. So let’s hear what you’ve got in mind for makin’ this deal official. Ownership terms, shares, and whatever else you think’ll make me agree to this.”

He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp as ever. “Convince me you’re serious enough to take Frostiron off my hands and into your fancy little Ava plan.” The faintest smirk crossed his lips.

The brazier crackled softly as the negotiations began. The chill outside and the murmurs of the miners seemed far away as the alcove became the stage for their deal.

 

[Ersatra]

Anastasia Von Arbin


Anastasia’s ascent from the depths of the mine was far less graceful than her descent had been.

The slick mud clung to her boots, turning each step into a careful negotiation between balance and sheer willpower. Her fine cloak, meant more for show than practicality, now hung heavy with dampness, its edges spattered with muck. The cold gnawed at her through the layers of cloth, an unrelenting chill that seeped into her bones and left her fingers stiff despite the gloves she wore.

At first, she tried to maintain her poise, her back straight and head held high as she followed Garrik’s steady, practiced stride. But the terrain was unforgiving to someone unfamiliar with its harshness. The loose gravel slipped beneath her feet, sending her stumbling more than once. Her breath came out in visible puffs, and her face, usually composed and aloof, showed faint traces of strain.

Still, Anastasia pressed on, refusing to ask for help or slow her pace. Pride kept her upright when her footing faltered. Determination kept her moving when her legs ached from the climb. By the time they reached the surface, Anastasia’s boots were caked in mud, her cloak streaked with dirt, and a faint sheen of sweat clung to her brow despite the biting cold. She drew in a deep breath of the snow-laden air, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort to steady herself. The cold drizzle had turned to snow, the flakes landing on her white hair and melting almost immediately.

Anastasia took the offered seat with a quiet sigh of relief, the ache in her legs more pronounced now that she was still. She flexed her fingers, trying to bring warmth back into them as Garrik retrieved the mismatched mugs and set them on the table. When he offered her a drink, she accepted, wrapping her hands around the rough ceramic like it was a lifeline.

Her voice, when she spoke, was steady despite the ordeal she’d endured. But there was a new edge to it—a rawness that suggested she’d been humbled by the climb and the mine’s harsh realities.

“Let’s talk terms,” she began, her crimson eyes meeting Garrik’s with renewed intensity. “I won’t waste your time with flowery promises. You’ve seen the state of your mine, and I’ve seen what it’ll take to bring it back to life.”

She leaned forward slightly, the warmth of the brazier reflecting off her pale skin. “I want full ownership of Frostiron Hollow. The mine, the surrounding land, the infrastructure—all of it. In return, you and your core team will retain a fifteen per cent stake in the net profits for the next ten years with you personally retaining an additional five percent should you agree to manage the mine for me. That team stake then would naturally be yours to manage as you see fit. After ten years, we’ll renegotiate.”

Anastasia paused to take a sip of the ale. The bitter taste made her grimace slightly, but she didn’t comment on it. She set the mug down with a quiet thunk and continued.

“I’ll invest in the immediate repairs—reinforcing the tunnels, fixing the drainage issues, and upgrading the roads. I’ll front the capital and bring in a team to handle the work, but I want your people’s cooperation. I’m not here to displace them or disrupt their livelihoods. I want them to be part of Frostiron’s revival.”

Her gaze hardened, the fire in her eyes a stark contrast to the frost clinging to the world outside. “This won’t be easy. I know that. It’ll take more than money and good intentions. But I’m committed to seeing it through.”

She tapped a gloved finger against the table, emphasizing her next point. “And let’s not pretend Frostiron doesn’t have a reputation to overcome. There’s a stigma attached to this mine—a belief that it’s cursed, or a lost cause. Turning that perception around will take time and effort.”

Anastasia leaned back in her chair, the brazier’s warmth doing little to banish the chill that clung to her. “But I’m not afraid of hard work, Garrik. And I’m not afraid of what people say. I’m here to make Frostiron Hollow more than just a memory of better days.”

She let the silence stretch for a moment before finishing, her tone firm. “So, have you any complaints thus far? Are there any requests or suggestions you'd like to offer? You've carried that book with you this whole time, I take it there must be some meaning behind that"

Abilities In Use:
[Narrative Booster - Striking a Business Deal]
Novama​

 

[Novama]

OOC: probably wrapping this up this week
Time: Early Evening
Weather: mostly overcast and drizzly with promise of snow
TLDR: garrik likes the financials, but has a few concerns on the proposals and a question for something not covered yet
Mentions: Ersatra
Listening:

Frostiron Hollow Mine

Garrik leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking under his weight, and studied Anastasia with guarded skepticism. The brazier’s glow reflected off the rough wood of the table, casting flickering shadows on the alcove walls as the snow outside continued to fall. He set his mug down without taking a sip, his gloved hand resting atop the handle.

“Not bad numbers,” he said, his tone neutral as if testing the weight of her words. “Fifteen percent for my core team, plus five for myself, sounds like a decent haul. Generous even, if things pan out the way you claim.” His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. “But ten years, eh? After that, renegotiation? Sounds to me like you’re leavin’ the door open to cut ties—or cut costs. Ten years may seem a long stretch to you, but for me, it’s a blink. I’ve bled for this mine, Lady Purse. Decades of work don’t vanish with a signature.”

He tapped his fingers on the table, his brows furrowing as he mulled it over. “Still, if this place stays a dried up husk, those decades’ll mean nothin’ to anyone. Better somethin’ than nothin’, I reckon.”

His focus shifted to her mention of bringing in a team for the tunnel work, his lips pressing into a hard line. “As for bringin’ in outsiders to fix the tunnels, I’ve got concerns. It’s one thing to hire skilled hands; it’s another to let folk who don’t know Frostiron’s quirks muck about underground. There’s more to a mine than diggin’ and shorin’ up walls. My people’ve kept this place standing outta pure stubbornness, and they know the stone better than anyone.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “If you’re bringin’ in help, I expect my people to oversee ’em. They know where the weak spots are, where the water pools, where the rock’s prone to shift. You want cooperation, you’ve got it—but give us lead on it.”


Garrik’s eyes flicked to the battered notebook beside him, his expression hardening. “Now, you’ve touched on the big things—tunnels, drainage, roads, and wages—but you missed somethin’ critical.” He tapped the notebook with a gloved finger. “You get the ore out, you need somewhere for it to go. What’s your plan for trade, storage, and distribution? The veins’ll be useless if the product sits rustin’ at the gates. Buyers we have now are dryin' up along with the ore.”

He leaned back again, his expression unreadable as he folded his arms across his chest. “And while we’re at it, let’s talk reputation. You said this mine’s got a curse, but I wouldn't think so. Nothin' supernatural about it. Veins dry up. Tunnels get old. It's a tired mine, not a cursed one. Don't go sayin' such things. Will make everyone's work that much harder.”

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll tell ya this much, Lady Purse: you’ve got guts. But guts don’t fix broken carts or bad weather. So, what’s your plan to handle the folk who’ll laugh in your face when you say Frostiron’s worth investin’ in? Imagine you are the forge that needs the ore yesterday and you are banking on a dying mine to deliver quality and timely.”

The crackle of the brazier filled the space, mingling with the faint howl of wind outside.

 

[Ersatra]

Anastasia Von Arbin


Anastasia leaned back in her chair, the rough wood biting through the layers of her cloak as she folded her hands in her lap. The glow of the brazier played across her features, highlighting the slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Ah, reputation,” she mused, her voice carrying the faint lilt of amusement. “It always comes back to reputation, doesn’t it? You’re right, Garrik, the mine isn't cursed, but I meant such as a figure of speech. People will laugh at the idea of investing in Frostiron Hollow. They’ll scoff at the notion that a noblewoman who’s never worked a mine a day in her life can turn it around. They’ll call it folly, madness—maybe even arrogance.”

Her crimson eyes met his sharp gaze, unwavering. “Let them.”

She drummed her fingers once on the table, a soft, rhythmic tap that matched the crackling of the brazier. "Everybody loves an underdog story; we need only persevere until criticism turns to praise. Besides, I have a much bigger issue to deal with than that. Once word reaches my Grandfather or elder cousin I imagine I'll be in for quite the scolding." A faint grin pulled at her lips, though it quickly vanished as she moved on just as fast.

Her crimson eyes flicked to Garrik’s notebook, then back to him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You’re right to be wary,” she began, her voice steady. “It’s only natural. You’ve given decades to this mine, and I’m not here to sweep in and claim that my vision is somehow superior to your experience. Your people know these tunnels better than anyone, and I wouldn’t dream of ignoring that knowledge. That would be foolish. Reckless.”

She leaned forward, matching his posture, her gaze locking onto his with unwavering confidence. “That’s why I fully agree—your people will lead the efforts to stabilize and rebuild the mine. Any outside specialists I bring in will be there to supplement, not take over. They’ll answer to your foremen. I want Frostiron to thrive, and that won’t happen without the trust and cooperation of those who’ve kept it alive all these years.”

Anastasia let her words settle before continuing, her tone softening slightly. “Now, about those ten years.”
“This isn’t about any one person’s life span—not yours, and not mine. It’s about margins. Profit and loss. It’s going to take five years, by my estimate, to recover my initial investment and stabilize the mine. That’s when the real profits will start to flow. And at that point, I don’t want to stop.”

She arched a brow, her smile growing faintly. “I want to expand. Improve. Bring in better equipment, better living conditions for your people, and more incentives to keep them loyal. That’s why we’ll need to renegotiate. Not because I want to cut you out—but because I’ll want to offer more. Should the situation allow.”

Her gaze turned toward the mine entrance, the snow swirling just beyond the alcove’s shelter. “I’m not here for a quick profit, Garrik. I’m here for the long game.”

When she looked back at him, her expression shifted—hardening into something more cryptic as she addressed his questions about distribution and trade. “As for where the ore will go, well…” She allowed a beat of silence to stretch, the brazier crackling between them. "That is a good question indeed. Though not one you need to worry about. We need to stabilise and secure the mine first before we begin worrying about that mess. Logistics are something I have already moved to secure before coming here. As for buyers, well I'll work on that when the time is right."
“Now,” she said, her voice lightening, “if you want to know the details, I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me. Just like I’m trusting you to take the lead in this mine’s restoration.”

Anastasia folded her hands in her lap, her expression calm but resolute.

Abilities In Use:
[Narrative Booster - Striking a Business Deal]
Titles in Use:
[Investor]
[Business Expert]
Novama​