In the dimly lit tavern, Captain Elias sat at a weathered table, nursing a tankard of ale. The air was thick with the scent of salt and secrets. Across from him, a stranger cloaked in shadows leaned closer, his voice a low whisper. "I hear you’re in need of supplies, Captain," he said, eyes glinting with mischief.
Elias studied the man, recognizing the dangerous allure of the black market. "What do you have?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
"Goods that can turn tides," the stranger replied, sliding a small, ornate box across the table. Elias hesitated, knowing that every deal had its price