The Gong Estate loomed like a mountain at dusk.
Inside the grand hall, the Matriarch sat on her throne, carved wood and cold authority combined.
She fixed the elder in charge of external affairs with an icicle stare that allowed for no delay.
"How is it? Has it been done?" Her voice cut through the chamber; there was no room for hesitation. She wanted an answer, and she wanted it now.
"Matriarch," the elder replied, steady but clipped, "the clans have stopped their supplies. From tomorrow, the Blazing Sun Pavilion will begin to feel the heat." He bowed his head slightly as he reported.
"And what of the smaller ore houses? Have they been warned? I don't want any excuses." Her tone was minimal, an order disguised as a question.
"Everything has been arranged. Every clan that deals in ore within the city has been contacted. They've been advised. Jun Wu will soon come begging." The elder's voice carried the thin confidence of a man certain his orders would be obeyed.