The new council chamber smelled of fresh-cut wood and old anxieties.
Anya took her seat at the circular table. Across from her, Gareth did the same. Their factions flanked them—a living map of the divide they were meant to bridge.
One week since the vote. It feels like a year already.
"First order," Gareth stated, all business. "The Aethelgard account wants five hundred reinforced tool belts. Standardized design. Their usual supplier failed."
His fingers tapped a rune-slate. Numbers glowed. "Our efficiency models show we can deliver in three weeks. Twenty-two percent profit margin."
Anya unrolled her own network schematic. Golden threads pulsed between workshop icons. "Pulling that much leatherwork from The Honest Hide would break their current contracts with the bookbinders and saddlers. It creates a cascade failure."
A stony-faced smith from Gareth's faction leaned forward. "The Aethelgard contract is worth ten small bindery jobs. The math is simple."
"The trust isn't," Mira countered softly from Anya's side. "Break a promise to a binder today, who will trust us tomorrow?"
Silence.
Gareth stared at his numbers. Anya watched the fragile connections on her map.
This is the test. The first real one.
"Counter-proposal," Gareth said abruptly. "We split the order. The Honest Hide fulfills their current obligations. We supplement with the Tanner's Collective from the river district. They have capacity."
Anya blinked. That was… smart. It showed he'd actually looked at her network map.
"But their quality is inconsistent," the smith protested.
"Then we pair them," Anya found herself saying. "The Honest Hide provides quality control and finishing. The river tanners handle the bulk work. They learn, we meet the demand, no one is abandoned."
She looked at Gareth. He gave a single, sharp nod.
"Acceptable," he said. "Draft the work-share agreement."
The junior artificer who had protested looked back and forth between them, bewildered by the sudden consensus.
As the meeting moved on, Gareth glanced at Anya. "Your map was… useful."
"Your profit margin was… adequate," she replied.
It wasn't friendship. It was a transaction. A careful, grudging trade of strengths.
But it was a start. And for now, that was the only foundation they had.