Morning light spilled through the window of Kaelan's courtyard, illuminating the complex web of activity within. The space had been transformed over the past weeks, becoming a miniature silk factory unlike anything else in Qarth. Rows of shallow wooden trays lined the walls, each filled with mulberry leaves and teeming with hundreds of silkworms in various stages of development.
Kaelan crouched beside one of the trays, gently brushing his fingertips over the surface where dozens of fat silkworms undulated in slow, rhythmic movements. Their bodies had turned translucent—a sign they would soon begin spinning their valuable cocoons.
"Almost ready," he murmured, satisfaction briefly pushing aside his financial worries.
The purchase of the Unsullied had drained his coffers more severely than he'd anticipated. Between that expense and the compensation paid to merchants after the warehouse fire, Kaelan's once-impressive fortune had dwindled to a paltry sum—barely enough to cover another month's warehouse leases, let alone the repairs needed on the north pier buildings.
He stood, brushing mulberry dust from his hands, and stepped back to survey the full operation. It was impressive, even to his own eyes. Unlike traditional silk producers, who had to wait on nature's timetable, Kaelan's silkworms worked with supernatural efficiency and coordination. Through his power, he controlled every aspect of their development—from the precise amount of mulberry leaf each consumed to the exact pattern of their cocoon-spinning.
The result was silk of extraordinary quality, produced in half the normal time.
It would be his salvation, if he could just hold on long enough for this first major harvest. But until then, his position remained precarious.
A shadow fell across the courtyard as Gray Flea appeared in the doorway, his expression as stoic as ever despite the unusual armor he now wore. The former Unsullied had adapted quickly to his new equipment—a fitted leather cuirass reinforced with an interlocking pattern of chitin plates harvested from beetles, all dyed a deep bronze-black that absorbed light rather than reflecting it. Gone was the conspicuous spiked cap of the Unsullied, replaced by a close-fitting leather mask that concealed his identity without restricting his vision.
"Mykos has returned from the docks," Gray Flea announced, his voice still formal but no longer employing the third-person speech pattern of the Unsullied. "He brings news."
Kaelan nodded, wiping his hands on a cloth. "I'll speak with him immediately."
He followed Gray Flea from the courtyard into the main room of his residence, where Mykos waited alongside Three Spear. The younger former Unsullied stood at casual attention near the door, his posture perfect despite the relaxed stance. Like Gray Flea, he wore the new insect-crafted armor, though his was slightly lighter to accommodate his more agile fighting style.
Mykos looked tired, the lines in his weathered face deeper than usual. He'd been working tirelessly since the fire, overseeing repairs while simultaneously coordinating security for the remaining warehouses.
"You look like you could use a drink," Kaelan observed, pouring watered wine into a clay cup and offering it to the old warrior.
Mykos accepted with a nod of thanks. "Been making inquiries," he said after taking a long draft. "About the fire."
"And?" Kaelan prompted, pouring cups for himself and his guards as well.
"Wasn't subtle," Mykos replied with a faint sneer. "Tavern talk is that Oros Henar ordered it."
"Oros Henar?" The name was vaguely familiar to Kaelan, though he couldn't place it immediately.
"Member of the Ancient Guild of Spicers," Mykos explained. "Owns six warehouses on the west dock. Charges double what you do, claims it's for 'quality.'" The old warrior's mouth twisted in disdain. "Quality meaning he pays off the right harbor officials."
Kaelan absorbed this information, his mind already calculating potential responses. "What else do you know about him?"
"Wealthy. Connected. Third-generation spice merchant." Mykos drained his cup. "Popular with certain elements of the Thirteen, less so with others. Has reputation for eliminating competition—usually by buying them out, occasionally through less savory means."
"So he's trying to drive me out of business," Kaelan mused. "Make my operation too costly to maintain through 'accidents' and compensation claims."
"Standard practice in Qarth," Mykos confirmed with a shrug. "Though usually more subtle than burning warehouses."
Three Spear spoke up from his position by the door. "We should kill him." His voice was matter-of-fact, as if suggesting the most obvious solution to a simple problem.
Kaelan glanced at the young warrior, momentarily startled by the bluntness of the suggestion, though he shouldn't have been. The Unsullied were trained as killers from childhood—assassination would naturally be their first suggested response to a threat.
"Not so simple," Mykos cautioned. "Henar has allies. Kill him openly, you face retribution from the Spicers Guild. Kill him secretly, questions arise about who benefits from his death."
"We need a different approach," Kaelan decided. "One that sends a message without escalating to open warfare." He paced the small room, his mind working through options. "But first, we need to secure our position. The docks are too vulnerable right now."
He turned to Mykos. "How go the repairs on the damaged warehouse?"
"Slow," the old man admitted. "Materials delayed. Laborers demanding higher wages after the fire." He hesitated. "Need at least another thousand honors to complete repairs."
Kaelan winced internally. A thousand honors he didn't have—not without selling something valuable. His gaze drifted toward the courtyard, where his silkworms continued their patient work.
"The silk isn't ready yet, but perhaps I can sell a small initial batch," he suggested. "Not the finest quality, but enough to raise some capital."
Mykos nodded thoughtfully. "Silk merchants congregate in the Azure Plaza during mid-morning. Best prices there."
"Then that's the first task for today," Kaelan decided. "But there's another matter to address as well. I think it's time I relocated temporarily to the docks."
"Sir?" Gray Flea questioned, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Our enemies know where I live," Kaelan explained. "And I can't effectively protect the warehouses from this distance. We'll convert part of the main warehouse into living quarters—nothing fancy, just enough that I can be present at all times."
"And this place?" Mykos gestured around the residence.
"Will remain in my possession of course," Kaelan replied. "For now, I need to be where the immediate threats are."
Three Spear nodded approvingly. "Tactical wisdom. Concentrate forces at point of greatest vulnerability."
"Exactly," Kaelan agreed, momentarily grateful for the Unsullied's military mindset. "Let's prepare the silk we have ready and head to the market. I need to rebuild my finances before we can think about striking back at Henar."
—
The Azure Plaza buzzed with activity as merchants from across the known world haggled over exotic goods beneath billowing silk canopies. The plaza took its name from the central fountain, where water tinted blue by minerals from distant mountains splashed merrily beneath the morning sun.
Kaelan approached the silk merchants' section with Gray Flea and Three Spear flanking him, their distinctive armor drawing curious glances from passersby. Though still recognizable as guards, they no longer bore the unmistakable appearance of Unsullied—a deliberate choice that both protected their dignity and obscured Kaelan's resources from prying eyes.
The small bundle Kaelan carried contained the first fruits of his silkworm operation—three lengths of silk, each about two yards long and of varying quality. Not enough to make a fortune, but hopefully sufficient to fund the warehouse repairs.
He paused before a stall operated by a Qartheen merchant he recognized from the docks—a trader who had stored goods in Kaelan's warehouse before the fire.
"Master Dhasir," the merchant greeted him, his expression guarded but not hostile. "An unexpected pleasure. I had heard you were focusing on your storage business these days."
"Diversification is the wise merchant's shield against misfortune," Kaelan replied, adopting the formal speaking style favored in Qartheen business circles. "I seek your expertise on these humble offerings."
He unwrapped his bundle, displaying the three silk samples. The merchant's eyebrows rose as he reached out to touch the fabric, his practiced fingers assessing the texture.
"You are the source of these?" he asked, surprise evident in his tone.
"I am," Kaelan confirmed.
The merchant lifted one length to examine it in the sunlight, then rubbed it between his fingers. "Extraordinary quality," he murmured, almost to himself. "Particularly this piece. Finer than anything I've seen from Yi Ti in recent years." He glanced up sharply. "How many looms do you operate?"
"My methods are... proprietary," Kaelan replied with a slight smile. "But I can assure you of a steady supply, should we establish a mutually beneficial arrangement."
The merchant's eyes narrowed in calculation. "For silk of this quality... five hundred honors for all three pieces."
"A generous offer," Kaelan acknowledged, "but somewhat below market value. These are merely samples of my capability. The finest piece alone should command close to four hundred."
"Four hundred?" The merchant scoffed, though his eyes betrayed his interest. "Perhaps for Imperial Yi Ti silk with gold thread. Seven hundred for all three, and I'll consider a standing order for future production."
"Eight hundred, and you have exclusive rights to my next three shipments," Kaelan countered.
The merchant hesitated, clearly weighing the potential profit against the investment. "Seven-fifty, and I want the first shipment within twenty days."
"Agreed," Kaelan said promptly, extending his hand to seal the bargain.
As they clasped forearms in the Qartheen manner, the merchant leaned closer. "There are whispers about you, young Dhasir. Some say you've made powerful enemies."
"The successful always have detractors," Kaelan replied evenly.
"Indeed." The merchant released his arm and began counting out coins. "But some detractors hire men with knives, while others merely spread rumors." He handed over a heavy pouch. "Your reputation remains sound with those who matter—your guarantees were honored promptly after the fire, which speaks to your character. Not all would have done the same."
"I appreciate your confidence," Kaelan said, accepting the payment with a respectful nod. "Our business relationship will not disappoint you."
As they moved away from the stall, Three Spear spoke quietly. "He knows something he didn't say."
"Yes," Kaelan agreed. "But he's aligned himself with me, at least economically. That's a good sign."
With the funds secured, they made their way back toward the docks. The seven hundred and fifty honors would cover the warehouse repairs and perhaps a little extra for additional security measures. It wasn't the financial cushion Kaelan had hoped for, but it would keep them operational while he dealt with the Henar problem.
Upon reaching the main warehouse, Kaelan immediately sought out the foreman overseeing repairs on the fire-damaged building. After arranging for the release of funds and setting expectations for completion, he turned his attention to establishing his temporary quarters.
The main warehouse was divided into storage sections separated by wooden partitions. Kaelan selected a small area near the back entrance, sheltered from casual view but with multiple escape routes if needed. Through careful arrangement of crates and barrels, his workers created a modest living space with basic amenities—a sleeping pallet, a small table, washing facilities, and a secure chest for valuables.
Not comfortable by any means, but functional. And more importantly, it placed him directly in the center of his operation, where his insect network could provide continuous surveillance of all approaches.
"Not what you're accustomed to," Mykos observed as they completed the arrangements.
"I've had worse," Kaelan replied honestly, thinking of some of the budget accommodations from his previous life. "And it's temporary. Once we've resolved our current difficulties, I'll return to my residence."