The Crimson Ledger's headquarters was a sight to behold within the city. It was built amongst the sprawling complex of warehouses and docks, its true nature embracing utility and its focus on being the heart of Velgrada, at least from the outside. Inside, its opulence rivaled that of the City Lord's manor, with everything covered in inexpensive wood, marble, or gold. Guards in their merchant livery patrolled the perimeter, their polearms shining, made by the best blacksmiths in the city, as they were all owned by the Ledger by now. Of course, they operated them not directly but via the Merchant Syndicate, keeping up the facade that they were... independent.
At the heart of the complex, behind a door marked 'Prime Conference Hall,' Garrik Holvar sat at the head of a long, blackwood table, his fingers drumming in a slow, purposeful rhythm. From above him, candlelight flickered across the faces of his inner circle, coming from hundreds of candles hanging from the massive chandelier. Around the table sat Merchant Syndicate's bosses, all of his subordinates of those companies that the Ledger had swallowed up. Every man he put in their leading position, everybody who owned their allegiance... and life to him. Of course, they were not only company leaders; they were also intelligence handlers, like Yvessa, and enforcers, like Orlin, who had built their miniature kingdoms on his and his Ledger's back.
At the moment, sitting to the left of him, Jorven Halst, owner of the majority of the city's gondola business, was speaking, and he was about to finish his report. At the same time, the room held its breath, waiting for the Crimson Ledger's leader to speak, but he let Jorven finish and sit back down before opening his mouth.
"So, let me get this straight," Garrik said, his voice dangerously soft. "Markus Veren, the man we've been strangling for months, just waltzed into the City Lord's estate. More... He was escorted in. Then he walked out unharmed. And now we don't know why."
"Um..." Jorven nodded once. "That sums it up, sir."
A muscle twitched in Garrick's jaw, a vein thrumming along his neck, bulging out.
"Why was he allowed to arrive?" He asked through clenched teeth.
"We..." Many of them looked at each other, not knowing how to answer that question. They couldn't just... kill him on the streets? Like that? They didn't even know where he was going.
"Sir," Mairis Veld, her silver-streaked black hair pulled tight into a mercenary's knot, leaned forward, her gauntleted fingers curling around the edge of the table. She was leading multiple companies of the Ledger, responsible for organizing the adventurers they poached, doing their fighting in and outside of the city. "Could it be a plea for protection? Veren's been bleeding slowly as we made sure their income dried up. If he threw himself at Valcroft's feet—"
"We would know," Yvessa interrupted. "Our eyes inside the estate haven't whispered a word of it."
"Then what the hell was it?" snapped Rikard Voss, a barrel-chested spice merchant whose fortune was built on smuggling in actual drugs amongst his spice runs. With his brash voice, he was looking to show Garrick that he was just as incensed as he was. "We were this close to breaking Veren & Sons, and now he's got Valcroft's ear? Why are we even bribing the people inside?!"
Yvessa had no answers that could be backed by proof, so she just steepled her fingers, her mind racing. The Crimson Ledger had played this game perfectly—sabotaging Veren's caravans, buying off his suppliers, turning his allies into liabilities, spreading rumors, and pulling favors to exclude them from every deal. But if the City Lord had taken an interest…
"Whatever happened in that damned estate," Garrick said, "we need to know. If Valcroft is even considering shielding Veren, we act before it's too late. Or maybe it is already is..."
"Well..." Jorven grimaced. "Our problem is time. The City Lord's guards are thorough. It'll take days to pry anything loose from their contacts, and by then—"
"By then, Veren could be untouchable," Yvessa finished as she smirked. "So we don't wait for spies. We lean on Veren until he cracks."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, but Garrick's gut twisted. If Veren had Valcroft's favor, brute force could backfire spectacularly. Maybe the City Lord was waiting for something like this. If they do that... He could use it as something he would pin to his flag, waving it around. He would use it to move against his Ledger, he knew because it was something he would also do.
"No," Garrick groaned. Don't touch them. "That boat has sailed!" He tapped again on the table. "Instead..." he muttered, closing his eyes and recalling the reports.
"Sir?" Rikard asked after a minute of silence, brave enough to interrupt Garrick's thinking.
"That bakery." Garrick continued after opening his eyes, "Investigate it."
"It looked to be a simple bakery." Yvessa muttered, shifting through her papers, "It was sold by Veren & Son because we squeezed them dry. They began selling some of their unused properties to keep themselves afloat. The owners are clean after a preliminary check."
"They are not." Garrick snorted, making Yvessa shrink back in her chair for a moment. "I told you to look for urchins. Are you all blind?"
"..."
"The bakery." He snorted, "They are using them."
"Because they are cheap." Yvessa muttered, "Every one of us hires people like them because we don't even need to pay them if we don't want to..."
"They are involved. Maybe even the ones who foiled our initial efforts." Garrick continued, slamming a hand on the table. "Capture their couriers. Kids will babble. If not, torture them. Get everything out of their worthless mouths before disposing of them in the river. Accidents happen; sometimes they fall in, and they just can't swim."
"Understood." Others answered, not even a hesitation in their voices.
"Sir." A new voice cut through the noise—cold, precise, and utterly devoid of hesitation, still noting down the order to capture the urchins. "We should assume the worst."
Hearing him speak, all eyes turned to Cedric Malvern, one of the once gold-ranked adventurers, now in service of the Ledger. He was dressed in a black robe, and he was the Ledger's senior strategist. When he was still an adventurer, he was thought to be one of the more ruthless ones, many times skirting the rules and laws of the kingdoms he visited, doing his jobs in a way that usually left bodies behind. Cold and unmoving ones...
But Garrick hired him precisely because of that. He was efficient. He asked no questions... and where the others flaunted their wealth, Cedric wore his power in silence. He was the perfect man to use when he wanted someone gone, as he could hide in plain sight. Finally, finishing scribbling down his thoughts, Cedric's head moved upwards, his pale eyes locking onto Garrick's.
"Elaborate," The Ledger's Leader spoke calmly.
"We were at the threshold for years now." Cedric started, and he didn't even blink his eyes while maintaining eye contact. "For those years, we've operated under the assumption that the City Lord would keep tolerating our expansion—so long as we were discreet enough. But what if Veren didn't go to him for protection? What if he offered Valcroft leverage?"
The temperature in the room dropped. Leverage? Did someone make a mistake? Did something get leaked? It shouldn't be the case... Yes, it was obvious that they were slowly growing to a level where they rivaled the City Lord's power. But, without proof, there was no way to make a move. Every war needed a cause, even if it was a fabricated one. Did the City Lord just get his cause to start it?
"If that's true," Cedric continued, "then this is no longer a 'trade war.' It's a coup. The exact thing we were aiming for. It came earlier than we expected, but..."
There was a beat of silence, but then chaos erupted.
"You're jumping at shadows!" Rikard barked at Cedric, suddenly feeling nervous. Yes, the coup. He knew... But it always felt to be still so far away. No, it shouldn't be happening yet. The City Lord is still strong, still dangerous! Yes... this was... they were not ready yet!
"Are we?" Cedric countered. "Valcroft has never been a passive ruler, only looked like one. If Veren handed him proof of our dealings—be it smuggling, bribes, the assassinations—then we are no longer merchants. We are insurgents."
"Impossible!" Yvessa exclaimed, "I would know about something like that, especially if it leaked! No. There is no way for Markus Veren or anybody from that puny company to get ahold of anything incriminating towards us."
"There are no such things as foolproof plans," Cedric explained calmly, never raising his voice or becoming emotional. "Sir," he looked at Garrick again, "Even if we are still in the safe, we must act and handle it as if we aren't. Then, we won't be surprised, and we won't find ourselves with our pants down."
Just listening to him, Garrick's pulse pounded in his temples. Mostly because he was right, and he could see that. So, with another long pause, he raised a hand, and the room stilled once again.
"We need clarity before we act," he spoke firmly. "Jorven—double surveillance on Veren. If he sneezes so much, I want to know. Mairis—prepare our forces, but hold. There will be no strikes against our targets yet. We can't run into the City Lord's trap."
"Understood." Mairis's fingers flexed around the hilt of her dagger. "And if we confirm Valcroft's backing him?"
"I will get that information from some worthless kids easily," Cedric added.
"We will wait for Cedric to gather the clues," Garrick smiled—a slow, hideous grin appearing on his face. "Then, no matter what, we remind the City Lord and Velgrada itself why the Crimson Ledger is the one who should be deciding the future of this city."
...
....
.....
At the same time as the Ledger was having a meeting inside Lord Valcroft's study, the man was sitting behind his massive table, looking at the city that looked orderly. Peaceful, even. A lie that made him smile. Still... it was his city. And he wasn't going to give it away to anybody.
Raising his hand, he sipped his tea—still hot, still bitter. It's just the way he liked it.
Before him, Markus Veren's sealed letter lay open on the desk, its wax broken. He read it twice, not because he doubted Markus's claims but because he found himself thinking ahead to what it would mean if they were true.
An elven artifact. Not just some trinket or bauble from a half-collapsed temple, from an ancient ruin... but something older, something tied to the elves. In the hands of bandits... An easy picking. So easy that it was too good to be true, but... He had already heard the news that the city of Korvar to the north was in an uproar. Even the Adventurers Guild was sending in someone to control the situation as two of the local branch's leaders disappeared. It all... corroborated Markus's information.
Valcroft turned his gaze back to the letters.
He had already dispatched three men—veterans all, not adventurers, but elites of Velgrada's army. Their mission wasn't just to verify Veren's find—it was to ensure that, if needed, the artifact would not fall into anyone else's hands while chaos ruled in their northern neighbor's city.
And if it turned out that all of this was real? Then, Velgrada would have a weapon. Something that would make them the leader of the Federation.
He leaned back in his chair, fingertips steepled together.
"They've grown bold," he murmured, his thoughts moving towards the Crimson Ledger.
Garrik Holvar and his whispering advisors... Clowns. Dangerous, yes... but nonetheless, clowns. No, worse... Parasites fattened on decades of complacency, convinced the city needed them that their wealth bought immunity. That their enforcers—paid adventurers and spineless nobles alike—would keep them safe.
They weren't wrong. Not until now. With an elven artifact... the news was too big, too important. They had to be dealt with before anything.
"Veren & Sons... huh?" He muttered to himself. Attacked by the Ledger once already—quietly, cowardly, using their usual methods. They will move again... and he will let them try again. Let the Ledger reveal their hand in public.
Then he'd have cause. Proof. And then, he would weed them out—all of them.
A city could suffer many things: poverty, crime, even war. But it could not suffer two rulers.