The candlelight wavered across the gilded study.
The light was throwing long shadows against the Saint Grenn banner mounted upon the wall.
Patriarch Gale Saint Grenn, head of one of the oldest houses in the empire, leaned back in his chair.
He did so with a heaviness that did not belong to a man of his years.
The parchment spread before him was ink-stained and torn at its edges, brought in haste from the merchant caravans that had returned earlier than expected.
Gale's eyes, sharp and cold, trailed across the lines of trade reports...lists of goods, inventories and expected profits.
The agreement had been simple in design, yet monumental in potential.
The Saint Grenn household had negotiated a three-way trade route between the western coastal merchants, the grain barons of the southern marches, and the iron-rich clans across the Northern Highlands.
From coast... refined silk, salt, and exotic dyes, transported through the Saint Grenn fleet.
