Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 171: Rusty Hound

**Tiana's POV**

The Rusty Hound was a filthy place, thick with the scent of ale and sweat. The kind of place where secrets were sold for a few coins and a strong drink. People here were desperate for anything and everything. They could trade the most useful piece of information just to get drunk.

I shook my head, sighing slightly as I remembered being in Shadowclaw but sheltered in the palace, almost believing no part of Shadowclaw could be as rough as this. That the governance was so smooth that no one suffered in this way.

How wrong was I?

I slipped into a dark corner of the tavern, ordering a cheap ale that I didn't plan on drinking. I just listened. It didn't take long to hear something interesting. Two men sat at a table near me, speaking in hushed tones.

"You hear about the forger?" one of them whispered. "He's charging double now."

"What choice do we have?" the other man complained. "The palace has tightened security. No papers, no work."

"That's still crazy expensive," the first man said. "It's like he's stealing from us."

I perked up at this conversation. A forger was exactly what I needed. I waited until one of the men got up to leave, and then I followed the other man outside.

"Looking for work?" I asked him casually.

He eyed me suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

I smiled and slipped a few coins into his palm. "Someone who needs a name on paper."

The man rubbed the coins together before nodding. "You'll want to find a man named Garrik. He runs his business near the old apothecary. But be careful – he doesn't like strangers. They might be spies for the Alpha."

I nodded, taking mental note of the warning. I was going to have to be careful if I wanted to get what I needed from Garrik.

I had the information to get what I needed. Now, I just had to find Garrik.

I walked through the narrow alleys, keeping my hood low over my face. The air was damp and clung to my skin, making me shiver. I was looking for the old apothecary, and it wasn't hard to find. It stood at the end of a narrow street, its sign faded and worn. The smell of herbs was barely noticeable under the strong smell of rot and decay.

But finding the forger, Garrik, was a different story. I looked around carefully, keeping my steps light. There were a few people hanging around, watching me with sharp eyes. They seemed deliberate like they were waiting for something or someone. I knew that guards wouldn't bother coming to this part of town unless they were paid to, so everyone here had a reason to be cautious.

I walked past the apothecary once, letting my fingers touch the crumbling wall beside it. Then I walked around the block, stopping at the entrance of a side alley. A man sat on a wooden crate nearby, carving a block of wood with a small knife. His dark eyes looked up at me once, then returned to his work.

"Looking for something?" he asked, not looking up.

"Depends," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I need a particular service."

The man snorted. "That so? There are lots of services around here. Be more specific."

I held up a single coin between my fingers and let the dim light catch its edge. "I hear Garrik is the man to talk to."

That got his attention.

He set his knife down, exhaling slowly. "Follow me. And if you try anything stupid, I’ll get you before you can blink."

Charming.

I followed the man through a narrow passage between two buildings. The space was so tight that I had to squeeze through. When we emerged, I found myself in a dimly lit back room. The air was thick with the smell of ink.

A man sat behind a desk, his fingers stained black with ink. His eyes were calculating, and he looked like he was sizing me up. He was broad-shouldered, but his hair was streaked with gray, showing his age.

"Garrik?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Depends on who's asking," he said.

I placed a small pouch of coins on the table. "Someone in need of a new name," I said.

Garrik's lips twitched into a smirk. "That so? Well, let's see if you can afford one."

Garrik pulled the pouch toward him, weighing it in his palm before opening it. The coins inside made a faint clinking sound, but it was clear they were too few. He clicked his tongue and tossed the pouch back at me, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Not enough," he said, his voice firm.

I caught the pouch easily, keeping my face neutral despite feeling annoyed. The dim light in the room made his face look even more serious. "You haven't even told me your price," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice calm.

Garrik shrugged, his broad shoulders moving up and down. "Doesn't matter. That's not enough for what you're asking," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I took a deep breath, gripping the pouch tightly before dropping it back on the table. The air in the room was suffocating with the smell of old paper and ink. "What if I offer something else?" I asked, trying to think of what else I could give him.

Garrik raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

I reached into my coat and pulled out a small, carved dagger. It was the one Cecilia had given me before I left. The silver hilt was inlaid with a deep blue stone, and it glinted in the dim light. I hated to part with it, but I knew it might be enough to persuade Garrik.

Garrik's eyes lit up as he took in the sight of the dagger. "Now that's interesting," he said, his voice filled with excitement.