The incessant clamor of the Bureau's audit on Bloodkin cases provided the perfect cover. Elias found Juro waiting for him in a rarely used maintenance corridor, the younger Artificer's face etched with worry. His brother, though alive and returned his Earth Core, was still suffering the lingering effects of its forcible removal and re-implantation.
"Analyst Thorne," Juro began, his voice barely a whisper, "my brother's core... it's not stable. The Sentinels' healers did what they could, but it feels... brittle. He's always exhausted, and his connection to the Law of Balance flickers." Juro shifted nervously, then reached into his satchel, pulling out a small, roughly hewn device that pulsed with a faint, irregular golden glow. "I brought you something. A token of gratitude, and... a proposition."
Elias took the object. It was undeniably an Earth Core, but unlike the pristine, mass-produced versions from the Artificers' Union. This one was cruder, heavier, forged with a raw, almost primitive power. "What is this?" Elias asked, a prickle of caution rising.
"A bootleg Earth Core," Juro admitted, his gaze darting around the empty corridor. "Smuggled out of the Stoneborn territories, then subtly re-worked by some... independent craftsmen. It's unstable, yes. Dangerous, even. But its karmic resonance is unique. It vibrates at a different frequency than standard human cores. It could help you mask your manipulations within the Ledger. Its unique signature would throw off any diagnostic scan, making your changes look like natural system fluctuations, or even errors introduced by the core itself, rather than deliberate edits."
Elias's mind raced. The implications were staggering. If he could attribute his Ledger manipulations to an unstable, non-standard elemental core, it would provide him with an almost perfect alibi. Any detection of subtle tampering could be blamed on his own faulty implant, making him appear as a victim of unstable tech, rather than a master manipulator. The risk was immense, but so was the potential reward.
"What's your proposition?" Elias asked, his voice low.
"Protection," Juro said, his eyes earnest. "From the Union. From the Sentinels. They're always hunting these rogue cores. If you use it... I could help ensure no one connects it back to its source. And in return, you ensure my brother receives whatever continued support he needs for his full recovery. And... perhaps, you look into why these bootleg cores are appearing. There's a lot of talk in the Union about a 'new directive' on core production, a push for quantity over quality."
Elias weighed the risks. An unstable core could burn out, could even cause karmic backlash, crippling him like Old Man Wen. But the lure of undetectable manipulation, of a near-perfect cloak for his activities, was too strong to resist. He had to accept.
"I'll take it," Elias decided, the words a commitment to a new level of peril. "But under one condition: monthly diagnostics. You'll need to check this core, ensure it doesn't degrade beyond acceptable parameters. And if it poses a threat to my well-being, we cease this arrangement immediately."
Juro nodded, relief flooding his face. "Agreed, Analyst Thorne. I'll make sure it's untraceable."
As Juro turned to leave, Elias studied the core in his hand. Its raw, unrefined power, its almost geological aesthetic, hinted at its origin. It was clear the core's design bore the unmistakable hallmarks of Stoneborn influence—the patient, earth-shaping might, repurposed for human use. This wasn't just about rogue Artificers; this was a hint of inter-species tech smuggling, a clandestine network operating beneath the surface of the Realm. The threads of his conspiracy were growing, weaving themselves into the very fabric of the world's hidden conflicts.