A week had passed.
Each day brought new disasters.
New failures. New impossible obstacles that materialized out of nowhere.
Valtair's trade had been unusable before. Bandits appearing. Officials demanding new Warehouses mysteriously catching fire. Shipments delayed, diverted, lost entirely.
Then the market flooded.
Products identical to his own appeared everywhere all priced at a loss. So cheap that no one would buy from him when they could get the same quality for half the cost elsewhere.
He recognized some of the goods. His own lost shipments. Somehow recovered. Somehow being sold by competitors who smiled pleasantly and offered no explanation.
And his workers?
The backbone of his operations... They began disappearing. Leaving, better offers elsewhere.
His manpower shrinked. His efficiency collapsed.
And through it all, the mines still sat there. His salvation. His investment.
