The eight of them lounged around the marble fountain in the market square, corn dogs in hand. The water spouted in clean arcs, far too clean, Argent thought, for a city built beside a battlefield. People bustled past carrying crates, calling out to others, hauling bundles of fish or fruit.
Ward took a massive bite of his corn dog in one chomp. "I swear these're better every time."
Ember jabbed hers at Rime. "That's because you inhale yours just like Rime here. Chew, giant man."
Rime flicked a piece of fried batter at her. "I'll chew when you stop naming every food cart we walk past."
Ember lifted her chin. "That cart was clearly a Frymaster of the Golden Path. Someone had to give it a title worthy of its greatness."
"Uh-huh," Rime deadpanned. "Anyway…"
Argent wiped his fingers on his pants. "Me and Ryn need to head to the Ledger after this. We need to offload the rest of the ore we still have."
Ryn nodded, still nibbling hers. "And… I want to see how the Ledger actually works. It sounds important to how a lot of things run here."
Veyra bounced slightly in her seat. "We're gonna look around the city! There's still so much we haven't seen."
"Plus," Veryn added, "we have merits now. Lots of merits. We should see what's worth buying."
Ferric stood, stretching his back until his spine cracked audibly. "We'll meet you both at camp before sundown."
Ward elbowed Argent. "Don't get lost. This place has more side streets than Ember has bad nicknames."
Ember's ears turned red. "HEY, those names have soul. You're all just uncultured."
They laughed, splitting off toward their various wanderings.
***
Argent and Ryn approached the Ledger's headquarters, a pristine, towering structure of white stone, with red banners and gold trim. The double doors alone were fifteen feet high, each carved with the emblem of balanced scales above a rising sun.
Inside was a controlled storm of activity.
Counters, dozens of them, stretched across the gleaming floor.
Clerks shuffled mountains of parchment.
Metal rails guided crowds along crisscrossing paths, each one painted a bright color on the floor: red, blue, green, gold, violet.
Ryn's eyes swept the space in awe. "It's like an ant hill. If… ants worked in proper commerce."
Argent grinned. "Efficient ants. Terrifying ants."
A woman stood at a podium near the entrance, posture stiff, expression nonexistent. She spoke without looking up, her voice flat and memorized down to the breath.
"Welcome to the Ledger. Please state the nature of your visit."
Argent cleared his throat. "Uh, looking to sell some crystalline ore."
"Acquisitions," she replied instantly, lifting one arm mechanically to point. "Follow the green line to the counter. Thank you for contributing to city commerce."
Ryn whispered, "Do you think she sleeps standing up?"
Argent whispered back, "If she ever sleeps at all."
They followed the glowing green stripe across the polished floor to a counter with a single bored-looking clerk behind it. Fortunately for them, no queue in this line.
The clerk sat up straighter as they approached. "Welcome to Acquisitions. How may we assist you today?"
Argent placed a hand on his thigh pouch. "We've got crystalline ore to sell. Heard the Ledger was requesting some."
Her expression didn't change, not at first. She merely began filling out a form.
"Quantity?"
Argent hesitated. "Um… roughly fifty spiders' worth. Maybe a little more? About a thousand pounds in total."
The clerk froze.
Slowly… very slowly… she lifted her gaze from the paper to stare at Argent.
Then, for the first time since they entered the building, someone here showed emotion, pure disbelief.
"One… thousand?" She repeated the number like she needed a second to absorb it. "As in… one thousand?"
Argent nodded.
Ryn offered a tiny, awkward wave. "Hi."
The clerk swallowed hard, then slapped her hand onto a flat crystalline device embedded in the desk. The surface rippled with light.
Her voice was suddenly sharp, brisk, and edged with urgency.
"Acquisition desk requesting escort of two patrons to warehouse. Repeat, escort requested. Also requesting all six members of Sorting Team Twelve."
"Sorting team?" Argent muttered under his breath.
A door behind the counter swung open, and a man in thick work clothes stepped out, wiping grease from his hands.
The clerk gestured toward him. "Please follow this associate to the warehouse. Your product will be weighed, inspected, and evaluated before payment."
The associate barely looked at them before grumbling, "C'mon, then," and motioning for them to follow.
Argent and Ryn exchanged a look.
Ryn whispered, "Is this… normal?"
Argent shook his head. "Who knows."
And together, they followed the worker into the heart of the Ledger.
***
The warehouse was chaos, not wild chaos, but the kind forged into efficiency by necessity. It buzzed like a mighty machine, every person a cog turning in flawless timing.
Carts rolled along metal rails with practiced ease.
Crates stacked three-high were hauled by pairs of workers whose movements were synchronized like dancers.
Forklift-like rigs, pulled by thickly built humans, lifted pallets of goods from the loading bays.
The air was full of voices calling out weights, order numbers, destinations.
Ryn slowed to stare. "It's like the entire city is stored in here…"
"No," Argent murmured. "Like the city depends on here."
Their escort, Hank, led them through the maze of activity with the grace of someone who had walked these paths a thousand times and knew when every cart would turn. He finally stopped at an enormous recessed area in the warehouse floor.
It was a massive pressure plate, twenty feet across, slightly sunken into a square depression. Thick metal rails framed the edges, all leading to a glowing crystal panel on the wall.
Ryn whispered, "That's… a scale? That's a scale."
Before Argent could respond, a door slammed open at the back of the warehouse, and six workers stepped out, each wearing leather aprons, gloves, and expressions that hovered somewhere between annoyed and resigned.
"Hey, Hank," one complained, stuffing the last bite of a sandwich into his mouth. "Why'd the counter call for all six of us? We were trying to eat."
"Yeah," another added, still chewing. "What kind of shipment from acquisitions needs the whole team?"
A third waved a glove. "It better not be another load of poorly made paper. My hands still smell."
Hank thumbed toward Argent and Ryn. "Ask them. Acquisitions said they needed the big team."
All six looked at the newcomers.
Argent forced a polite smile.
Ryn lowered her head sympathetically.
Hank sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. "Alright. Dump whatever you've got on the plate."
Argent and Ryn exchanged a look, reached into their thigh pouches… and began pouring.
Hundreds of glittering crystalline chunks poured out like a waterfall of shattered stars, spreading across the enormous pressure plate in a glimmering blue-white flood. The sound it made, like tinkling glass and heavy gravel, echoed across the warehouse.
Every worker in view froze mid-task.
One man holding a crate of spices stopped so suddenly that the crate nearly toppled.
The six sorters stared at the mountain of ore with identical expressions:
"Well then."
The tallest sorter pointed with a gloved hand. "Hank, this is… more than I have ever seen at once."
Hank didn't immediately answer.
He was staring at the weight counter on the wall as the digits climbed rapidly, spinning like a wheel.
742… 866… 931… 965… 973.
Finally it stopped, glowing in golden text:
[973.4 lbs Registered]
"…well I'll be damned," Hank breathed.
The six sorters, previously reluctant, snapped into full professional mode with whiplash inducing speed.
Sandwiches were shoved quickly into their mouths.
Gloves were tightened.
Kneepads buckled.
One man cracked his knuckles so loudly Ryn flinched.
"All right, team!" Hank barked. "Full sort! Make sure it's clean, no stone, no dirt, no mixed ore!"
"Aye, aye!"
"Yes sir!"
"Sorting Twelve on it!"
What followed was a display of choreographed mastery.
Six sorters leapt into the pit, working like a single organism.
One lifted large chunks effortlessly and passed them to another.
Two crouched low, breaking apart fused pieces with metal pry tools.
Another sifted smaller fragments through a gridded frame.
Every motion was fluid, rhythmic, efficient.
They were so fast that Argent struggled to follow the motion of their hands.
Ryn leaned forward. "…they're really are like giant ants."
Argent nodded. "I am not sure ants are that fast."
In ten minutes, the mountain of ore became six neat piles, sorted by size, purity, and crystalline density.
Hank walked over, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. "Alright."
He handed Argent a thick slip of paper, pressed parchment with the Ledger's emblem embossed in gold and the weight stamped in shimmering ink.
"True enough, it's nine hundred seventy three pounds of raw crystalline ore," he said.
Hank pointed toward a marked trail on the floor, this one a bright yellow stripe. "Follow that line back to the acquisitions counter. Give them the slip; they'll handle the rest."
Argent and Ryn thanked him, still a little stunned at the proficiency of it all.
As they left, one of the sorters murmured, "What kinda lunatics bring in that much ore?"
Another replied, "The wealthy kind now."
A third chimed in, "Hope they come back. I like having work that doesn't smell like brinefish."
Argent and Ryn stepped back into the busy warehouse corridor, still processing what they'd just witnessed.
And behind them, the sorters were already shouting for someone to bring more crates.