Dawn had not yet fully broken, but the western port of the capital had awoken before the sun.
A light white fog stretched over the water's surface, so that the sea seemed to swallow the incoming ships before slowly returning them to the world. Along the stone quays, the last torches were fading as daylight approached, while the scent of salt mixed with the damp wood of ships and the shouts of laborers who had begun their day hours ago...
Louai stood at the edge of the quay, his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on the horizon..
He was not merely waiting for a ship.
He was waiting for the outcome of a gamble that had stretched over days—one that would perhaps determine the fate of the coming months.
Drian approached with quiet steps, then stood beside him without speaking immediately.
For several moments, the two watched the sea in silence.
Then Drian said:
"There has been unusual movement in the port since dawn."
Louai did not turn his gaze.
"Explain."
"Five riders from Lucas arrived an hour ago as promised. Ronar's men remain aboard the ship, but I also spotted unfamiliar faces among the merchants."
Louai smiled faintly.
"The unknown do not concern me."
Drian looked at him with surprise.
"Rather, I am concerned by whoever sent them."
Silence returned.
The sea was strangely calm, so much so that the soft sound of waves striking the quay walls was clearer than the city's own noises.
One of the sailors raised his hand from the watchtower.
"A ship on the horizon!"
All eyes turned toward the east.
First it appeared as a gray shadow within the fog.
Then the dark sails gradually grew distinct, until the mark Louai had been waiting for since Seron left for the Dwarven mountains became visible.
He breathed slowly.
It had arrived.
But the relief lasted only a moment.
Drian said in a low voice:
"Do you think Kasian knows?"
Louai answered without hesitation:
"If he does not know, he will within hours."
"And do you expect an attack?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Not here."
Drian raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Louai replied, his gaze still fixed on the approaching ship:
"Because Kasian does not strike where I expect him to."
Then he added after a moment:
"Direct attack suits Lucas."
"As for Kasian..."
The words paused briefly.
"...he prefers to make his opponent lose before the battle even begins."
As soon as the ship touched the quay, calm turned into organized chaos.
Sailors jumped to the ground.
Ropes were thrown.
Anchors secured.
And dozens of laborers began moving the heavy crates.
Each crate bore the Dwarves' mark, burned into the wood by fire.
Louai watched the operation with an eye that missed no detail.
He did not allow the iron to be stacked in one place.
Instead, the carts departed one after another toward three different warehouses.
Drian noticed and said:
"We could have finished faster if we had gathered everything in a single warehouse."
Louai smiled.
"And Kasian could have burned everything in a single night."
He gestured toward the first cart.
"Always divide the risk."
Drian shook his head in admiration.
The more he worked with this prince, the more he became convinced that Louai did not see things as others did.
Even victory...
He treated it as a possibility of defeat.
About two hours later, the last cart left the port.
Louai stood watching until it disappeared among the capital's streets.
He felt an immense weight lift from his chest.
The first stage had succeeded.
He thought to himself:
"The iron is now inside the city."
"Even if Kasian closes the port now... he is too late."
But another thought followed immediately.
"No..."
"Kasian is never late."
"He only chooses where to strike."
He turned toward Drian.
"Double the surveillance on Joudat."
Drian looked at him with surprise.
"Joudat?"
"If Kasian begins to move, Joudat's agitation will tell us."
"You don't trust him?"
Louai smiled briefly.
"I trust no one."
Then he added as he left the quay:
"I trust only interests."
On the road back to the palace, the capital appeared as usual.
Vendors calling out their wares.
Carts crossing the streets.
Children running after pigeons.
Everything was normal.
And that troubled Louai more than anything.
Because when the city seems too quiet...
It means the storm has not yet arrived.
Hours did not pass.
Drian entered the office so quickly he nearly collided with the door.
He did not knock.
And he did not apologize.
Louai raised his head at once.
"What happened?"
Drian placed a paper on the table.
"The market."
Louai took it.
At the top of the page, a single number.
167
Then below it, an arrow.
130
And below that.
120
He stared at the numbers without speaking.
Then he raised his head slowly.
"When?"
"In less than five hours."
Silence fell.
Even the air inside the office felt heavy.
Louai said finally:
"That is impossible."
Drian replied:
"I would have said the same... had I not seen it with my own eyes."
He stepped closer.
"I sent three men to the market."
"The first returned saying the merchants were selling at a loss."
"The second said the brokers were changing prices every half hour."
"As for the third..."
He paused briefly.
"...he said that one of the leading merchants had declared bankruptcy before everyone."
Louai rose from his seat.
"To the market."
The Iron Square was entirely different from what he had known all his life.
Shouts.
Arguments.
Torn ledgers.
Workers refusing to unload carts.
And merchants pushing toward small offices, hoping to sell their stock before prices dropped further.
He heard a man shouting:
"Sell it now!"
Another replied:
"Wait!"
Then a third cried:
"If you wait another hour, you will find no one to buy it at all!"
Chaos was spreading faster than fire.
Louai passed through the crowd without anyone noticing him.
Everyone was absorbed in their losses.
He stopped before one merchant who was pounding the table with his fist.
"What is happening?"
The man raised his head nervously.
"You ask me what is happening!"
Then he laughed a short, bitter laugh.
"Someone drowned the market."
He gestured toward the warehouses.
"Iron..."
"Iron..."
"Iron everywhere!"
Another merchant approached excitedly.
"More than fifty new sellers appeared within hours."
The first said:
"And no one knows where they came from."
The second replied:
"They sell at any price."
Louai's expression froze.
Not because the price had collapsed.
But because the method was all too familiar.
He said in a voice barely audible:
"Assumed names..."
Drian looked at him.
"What?"
Louai raised his head.
"He is hiding the true source."
Then he began calculating rapidly.
If the market was selling this entire quantity...
Then Kasian had not released a part of his stock.
He had released an entire mountain of iron.
And here Louai felt something he had not felt since the beginning of this confrontation.
Astonishment.
"I misjudged the size of his network..."
"The warehouse Corvin revealed..."
"...was only a small part."
He returned to the office without a word.
He sat before the map.
And placed the market report over it.
Then he said finally:
"Summon Seron as soon as he returns."
Drian asked:
"And what shall we do now?"
Louai continued to stare at the numbers for a long time.
Then he said quietly—so quietly that Drian understood the situation was more serious than it appeared:
"The battle of the port is over..."
He raised the paper before him.
"...and the battle of the market has begun."
Louai returned to his office shortly after sunset, but the market followed him.
It was not the merchants' shouts that stayed in his ears, but that number...
120.
A single number that had managed to defeat thousands of quintals of iron.
He sat before the desk without removing his coat, while Drian turned over papers that had just arrived from his men scattered across the markets.
He broke the silence:
"We have finished gathering most of the reports."
Louai raised his head.
"Speak."
Drian placed three papers before him.
"The iron did not enter the market from a single warehouse."
"Nor from a single merchant."
"But from thirty-two different traders."
He paused briefly, then continued:
"However, we reviewed the tax records."
"Fifteen of them had never traded iron in their entire lives."
Louai smiled faintly.
"Assumed names."
"And shell companies as well."
Drian nodded.
"The payments were made in cash."
"And not a single contract bears Kasian's name."
Silence fell.
Then Louai took his quill and drew a small circle on the paper.
"This is not a commercial operation."
He drew a second circle.
"This is intelligence work."
Then a third circle.
"Every name here..."
He tapped the paper with the quill.
"...is a mask."
He raised his eyes toward Drian.
"Do you know what that means?"
Drian shook his head.
"It means Kasian did not prepare for this strike two days ago."
He paused briefly.
"But months ago."
Elsewhere in the capital...
A man in a gray cloak ran through the narrow alleys, turning back every few steps.
He was breathing with difficulty.
His hand trembled.
Sweat covered his face despite the cold night.
Joudat.
He stopped before an old house, knocked three times in succession.
No answer.
He knocked again.
The door remained shut.
He swallowed.
"They beat me to it..."
He turned quickly.
But before he could move away...
Two men emerged from the darkness.
They raised no sword.
They spoke no word.
They merely looked at him.
Joudat's face went pale.
He stepped back.
Then another step.
"I..."
He did not finish.
One of the men stepped closer.
And placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Lord Kasian wishes to speak with you."
Joudat's knees trembled.
He knew well...
That Kasian did not summon anyone for a second conversation.
That same night...
Drian was returning from his final round.
He entered the office without speaking.
Louai looked at him.
And from his expression, he understood the answer before he heard it.
"Gone."
Drian nodded.
"His office is empty."
"His house is empty."
"Even the servant has disappeared."
Louai closed his eyes for a few seconds.
He did not grow angry.
Rather, he felt that a crucial piece had been removed from the chessboard.
He said quietly:
"He was ahead of us."
Drian stepped closer.
"Do you think he was killed?"
Louai remained silent.
Then he said:
"I don't know."
"But I know one thing."
He looked toward the fire burning in the hearth.
"Kasian now knows."
"Knows what?"
"That he was hearing what I wanted him to hear."
He paused briefly.
Then continued:
"From now on..."
"...he will trust no one."
The next morning...
The military barracks bustled with activity.
Swords being polished.
Horses being prepared.
Soldiers training in the wide yard.
Louai entered the barracks without guards.
He knew that Lucas disliked processions.
He found the Crown Prince standing before the archery range, watching soldiers release their arrows.
Without turning, Lucas said:
"I heard you lost the market."
Louai smiled.
"News travels fast."
"Bad news always travels faster."
Lucas finally turned.
He held a training spear between his hands.
He spun it once, then drove it into the ground.
"Let us speak plainly."
"Proceed."
"The market now sells iron cheaper than your price."
"Correct."
"Then why should I buy from you?"
Silence fell.
Soldiers shouted in the background, but the conversation between the two brothers seemed to make the whole world disappear.
Louai said finally:
"Because you are not buying iron."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"You are buying your future."
Lucas laughed.
A short laugh, but genuine.
"You are beginning to sound like the philosophers."
Louai smiled.
"And you still sound like a general."
He stepped closer.
"Ask yourself one question."
"What?"
"Who is selling all this iron?"
Lucas answered at once:
"It does not matter."
"It does matter."
He stepped closer still.
"If you buy today..."
"...you are funding the man trying to destroy our monopoly."
He paused briefly.
"Today, you save some gold."
"But tomorrow..."
"...he will make you pay many times over."
Lucas looked at the ground.
He knew the logic was sound.
But he saw the problem from another angle.
"My army needs iron now."
"And I need three days."
"Three days is a long time."
"Not if you want to end the monopoly."
The two exchanged glances.
Then Lucas said slowly:
"I will wait."
Louai breathed quietly.
But Lucas continued:
"Three days only."
He pointed his finger toward him.
"On the fourth day..."
"...I will hold no enmity toward Kasian."
"...I will buy from whoever sells cheapest."
Louai nodded.
"That is your right."
Then he added as he left:
"And I will make sure you do not need to."
Shortly after sunrise...
Corvin sat inside Louai's office.
The old man seemed calmer than usual.
He read the market collapse report to the last line.
Then he returned it to the table.
"Good."
Louai looked at him with surprise.
"Good?"
Corvin smiled.
"The more Kasian overreaches..."
"...the more traces he leaves behind."
He approached the map.
And pointed to the secret port.
"These documents..."
"...have become more valuable than gold."
Louai opened his desk drawer.
And took out the authorization letter.
Then the small seal.
He placed both before Corvin.
"This is all I can give you."
Corvin held the seal between his fingers.
"If we are caught..."
"...will you deny knowing us?"
Silence fell.
It was a harsh question.
But it was the question of a man who understood the nature of the trade.
Louai looked at him directly.
"If I deny you..."
"...you will die."
Then he continued quietly:
"And if I acknowledge you..."
"...you will die as well."
Corvin smiled for the first time.
"An honest answer."
He took the seal.
And hid it inside his coat.
Then he stood.
"We leave tonight."
"How many men?"
"Three."
"Enough."
He headed toward the door.
And before he left...
He said without turning:
"If you receive a message from me..."
"...know that we succeeded."
He paused briefly.
"And if you hear nothing..."
"...burn the map."
And he closed the door behind him.
Corvin left the palace before the sun reached its zenith, while Louai remained standing at the window, watching his carriage until it disappeared among the capital's streets.
His concern was not for the old man alone.
But for the hope he carried.
If the mission succeeded, Kasian's network would for the first time be exposed by evidence, not suspicion.
But if it failed...
He would lose not only his men, but his last chance to strike his enemy from within.
He sighed slowly.
Then turned toward Drian.
"It is time for Eilis."
Drian nodded.
"The place is ready."
The Northern Port
The small café overlooking the quay looked like any other.
Fishermen arguing over fish prices.
Sailors drinking coffee before setting sail.
And the café owner busily cleaning cups without paying much attention to his customers.
Drian had chosen this place because it attracted no notice.
Eilis sat in the far corner, her hands clasped over the table, her eyes moving with every person who entered through the door.
Louai approached and sat before her.
Silence lingered for moments.
She finally said:
"I did not expect the prince to come himself."
Louai smiled calmly.
"And on days like these... I do not trust messengers."
She lowered her head slightly.
"Nor do I."
She took out a small leather envelope and placed it on the table, but kept her hand over it.
"Before you take it..."
Louai looked at her.
"...I want a promise."
"What promise?"
"My son."
Her voice faltered for the first time.
"If Kasian learns I cooperated with you... he will show me no mercy."
Louai answered quietly:
"You will not be alone."
She smiled faintly.
"All princes say that."
Then she pushed the envelope toward him.
"This is a copy of the first transfer."
He opened the envelope.
It was a financial document, sealed with the Northern Port's stamp.
Proving a large transfer to an account in Liridan.
His eyes froze for a moment.
"This..."
Eilis said:
"Only one."
"And the rest?"
"In a place no one knows."
Then she leaned slightly forward.
"If you see guards around my house before sunset... you will receive everything."
Louai closed the envelope carefully.
"They will be there before sunset."
And before he left, she said in a low voice:
"There is something else..."
He stopped.
"Kasian has begun reviewing the port records himself."
Louai exchanged glances with Drian.
That was not Kasian's habit.
And this meant...
That he was beginning to feel the danger.
The Eastern Library
When Louai entered, Jessica was waiting for him.
She did not rise.
Nor did she greet him.
She said directly:
"Three weeks."
He looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"Three weeks since you promised me."
He realized at once what she meant.
The Church tax reduction.
He sat before her.
"The situation has changed."
She smiled with faint sarcasm.
"The situation always changes."
Then she added:
"But promises should not change."
Louai sighed.
"I need three days."
She shook her head.
"One last time."
Then she leaned slightly closer.
"And I will give you something in return."
He raised an eyebrow.
"One of our monks saw men from Kasian's network leaving the eastern warehouses."
Silence fell.
"Carrying what?"
"Not iron."
"Then what?"
"Maps."
Louai felt a tightness in his chest.
"Maps?"
"I do not know why."
Then she said quietly:
"But if I were in your place..."
"...I would watch your supply routes more than the market."
He left, repeating her words in his mind.
Kasian does not move without purpose.
If he is beginning to focus on the routes...
Then the next blow will not come in the market.
Morning of the Nineteenth Day
Seron entered the office, looking more exhausted than ever.
The traces of long travel were clear on his face.
But he did not sit.
Instead, he placed a bag full of ledgers on the table.
"I have returned."
Louai smiled for the first time in days.
"Well done."
Seron took out the original contract with the Dwarves.
Then he began explaining the details of the journey.
Ronar.
The contract guarantees.
The mines.
Until he finished.
Then he noticed Louai's silence.
"What happened?"
Louai threw the market reports before him.
Seron read them quickly.
Then raised his head.
"He flooded the market."
"He flooded me."
Seron remained silent for moments.
Then he said:
"We have three options."
"I am listening."
"Sell everything."
Louai shook his head.
"Rejected."
"Keep everything."
"Rejected as well."
Seron smiled.
"Then there is the third option."
He approached the map.
"We sell a small quantity."
He pointed to the numbers.
"Enough to provide liquidity."
"And keep the rest."
Louai thought for a moment.
Then he said:
"A thousand quintals."
Seron nodded.
"And we will need a loan."
"From Jessica?"
"No."
Louai opened a small metal box.
Inside appeared the remaining gold from the Valtor ship.
"From the southern bank."
Seron smiled.
"More expensive..."
"...but less dangerous."
Midnight
An unknown messenger arrived at the palace.
He was tired.
His clothes torn and dusty.
He bowed quickly.
"A message... from Corvin."
Louai seized the message and opened it.
It contained only one line.
Done. We entered the port. The documents are in our possession. Kasian does not know yet. We will return within two days.
He read it more than once.
Then closed his eyes.
Finally...
He held the evidence he had been seeking since the beginning.
But the joy did not last.
Drian said:
"When Kasian discovers the documents are missing..."
Louai completed the sentence:
"...he will begin erasing every remaining trace."
Then he wrote a quick reply.
Bring the documents at once. Do not stop in any city. The road is no longer safe.
He handed it to the messenger.
"Go."
Dawn of the Twentieth Day
Louai sat alone in his office.
Before him...
Corvin's map.
Eilis's document.
The Dwarven contract.
Seron's reports.
And Jessica's file.
They were five scattered pieces.
But when brought together...
They became a weapon.
He stood before the window.
The capital was still asleep.
But he...
He knew that the coming days would determine the fate of everything he had built.
If Corvin's documents arrived safely...
And Eilis agreed to testify...
And he secured Jessica's support...
Then the next battle would not be with traders.
Nor with the market.
But inside the throne room itself.
He smiled faintly.
Then slowly closed his notebook.
And whispered to himself:
"You broke the market, Kasian..."
He raised his gaze toward the distant Imperial Palace.
"...but I will break the empire you built in the shadows."
And the last candle on his desk went out with the first threads of dawn.