The aurora shimmered crimson and blue above Frostheim, but beneath that beauty, the city pulsed with quieter lights — whispers glowing through runes, letters sealed with red wax, contracts carved into ice.
The Brotherhood of Frostfangs had evolved.No longer just spies or assassins — they were brokers of knowledge, selling truths and illusions alike.The people called their growing web The Red Market.
The Birth of the Market
Daniel was the one who proposed formalizing it.
"We're already drowning in information," he said, tapping a ledger thicker than a shield."Then let's monetize drowning," Lumiel replied."You can't sell secrets.""You can sell who needs them."
They met in the basement of the Red Vein — the same place where their tavern dreams had once exploded, literally.Now, it was lined with glowing mirrors and whispering crystals — every surface listening.
Daniel organized it into three tiers:
Whispers: rumors, minor trade secrets, cheap gossip.
Echoes: tactical reports, guild data, merchant movements.
Truths: forbidden knowledge — artifacts, bloodlines, gods' intentions.
"We don't sell Truths," Lumiel said firmly."Of course not," Daniel replied smoothly. "We lease them."
The Network Expands
Within weeks, Frostheim became the beating heart of a new invisible economy.Messages traveled through enchanted ravens, aurora mirrors, and astral couriers.Even nobles from Celestara and the southern empires came to bargain in coded phrases.
Luminous handled diplomacy with charm and shadow.Laura supplied potions that ensured honesty—or silence.The Brotherhood operated unseen, collecting whispers through taverns, dreams, and reflections.
Frostheim's reach stretched far beyond the ice.
"We're turning gossip into gold," Lumiel mused."And paranoia into profit," Daniel added."Efficient fear," Luminous said. "The purest currency."
A Deal with the Divine
One evening, a messenger arrived — not human, not elf, but something older.A figure of glass and light, claiming to represent a god of order.It sought to buy information about Leviathane's stirrings beneath the ice.
Lumiel met it in the Red Vein's upper chamber.
"Information isn't free," he said."Nor is survival," the being replied.
They bargained in half-truths and coded riddles. Lumiel sold just enough to keep the god's interest — but not its advantage.When it vanished in a flare of light, Daniel emerged from the shadows.
"That was dangerous.""So is being poor," Lumiel said.
Klaus and Eira
Up in the Ice Palace, Eira reviewed Frostheim's trade ledgers with Klaus.
"Your brother controls the flow of information like water," she said."He'll flood the world or save it," Klaus replied."Which do you think he prefers?""Whichever turns a profit."
She smiled faintly. "You speak of him with frustration."
"And pride," Klaus admitted. "He's building an empire of whispers… while I build one of walls.""Perhaps the two are one and the same."Her gaze softened. "And perhaps we're all learning from him."
The Red Banquet
To celebrate the Red Market's success, Lumiel threw what he called a quiet dinner party with minimal explosions.Half the world showed up.Vampire nobles, Ice-Elf lords, celestial scholars, and mortal merchants dined together under a floating aurora chandelier.
Luminous played harp while Laura served enchanted wine that made guests speak their truest thought.Daniel nearly fainted keeping track of contracts.Klaus, standing at Eira's side, simply watched it all with the weary calm of a man watching history happen in real time.
When Lumiel raised his glass, the hall fell silent.
"To Frostheim," he said. "Where truth is currency, and silence costs extra."
The laughter that followed was half amusement, half awe.
Closing Scene
Later that night, when the last guest had gone, Lumiel stood alone before a mirror that flickered faintly red.In its surface, reflections whispered: hundreds of voices from across worlds—pleas, lies, and prayers.He touched the glass.
"The world finally listens," he murmured. "Now let's teach it what to hear."
The aurora outside dimmed for a moment, as if the sky itself leaned closer.
Frostheim no longer traded in gold or blood.It traded in truth—and nothing in the world was more valuable or more dangerous.