Zarqa, Corvus, and two seasoned warriors drafted the outline of the plan by dawn. After long discussions, scribbled notes, and strategic analyses, the meeting dispersed due to fatigue and Corvus having other matters to attend to. As the sun rose once again over the horizon, everyone stood up to rest for a while. But Corvus’s work was not yet done. He would return that night to decide on the final version of the plan.

  The sun touched the stone walls of Rax like a golden brush. As the morning chill still lingered in the arched streets of the city, Corvus walked toward the city center with weary steps. Only a few seagulls circled the sky, occasionally landing on columns covered with gladiator posters. He had spent the night in the cellar, but the day had only just begun.

  The soft trickle of water from the aqueduct on the corner sliced through the morning silence, spreading a cool freshness around. A woman carefully placed a bronze jug under the spout of the aqueduct. Her small child yawned while standing beside her, never straying far from his mother. Corvus paused for a moment, observing this quiet, ordinary scene. Then his attention was drawn by the clanging sound of metal echoing through the street.

  Two apprentice blacksmiths were carrying anvils to the stone benches in front of their shop before the master arrived. When one of the youths dropped a hammer on his foot, he swore aloud, causing the other to chuckle and glance briefly at Corvus. Corvus continued walking without rolling his eyes. Everyone in this city was waking up to their own morning.

  On the marble steps of the temple at the street corner, an old priest was praying, slowly turning the prayer beads in his hands. A group of soldiers marching past the temple walked in disciplined steps through a haze of incense smoke. Each wore a spotless set of armor. Corvus thought of his own warriors for a moment. The Rhazgord were far from showy—but just as deadly.

  Farther down the street, the smell of fresh bread hit his nose, and hunger pangs jabbed at his stomach. Smoke rising from the stone oven of a bakery mingled with the morning sunlight, forming a golden veil that hung in the air. In front of the not-yet-opened shop, a young baker was placing hot flatbreads into wicker baskets without gloves. Corvus stepped closer and asked:

  “How much longer?”

  “Ten more minutes, sir.” the baker replied, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

  “They just came out. We’re waiting for them to cool.”

  Corvus sat on a nearby stone bench. A group of mounted traders passed by, heading toward the morning market. Their carts held bales of fabric, and some cages contained exotic birds. Likely from ships that had arrived at Rax’s port the previous night.

  When the baker called out, Corvus jolted. His eyes had grown heavy while waiting on the bench. He quickly stood, scanned the array of pastries on the counter—most of which he didn’t recognize—and picked out a few crisp flatbreads, some fig-filled sweet rolls, and spice-scented dough balls. He placed the warm packages into a leather pouch and tossed a few silver coins to the baker before heading back into the street.

  As he walked, he began tasting the foods one by one. A faint expression of satisfaction crossed his face as the sweet roll crumbled in his mouth. Then he tried the spicy one and winced slightly. “Too spicy.” he muttered to himself.

  The streets weren’t yet crowded, but the city was slowly awakening. As Corvus walked through the streets, he noticed that the mosaics placed between the marble pavements shone in the morning sun. When he reached a small square, a group of young students gathered around a fountain caught his attention. Each held a wooden tablet, listening attentively to an elderly man standing in their midst. The man pointed at a statue and spoke:

  “In this scene depicting Emperor Tiberius’s victory, note the positioning of the figures!”

  Corvus looked at the enthusiasm in the man’s voice and the curiosity in the students’ eyes. “This is how they carry knowledge...” he thought.

  “With the power of stone, water, and word…”

  A bit further on, sculptor apprentices were cleaning the reliefs carved into the top of a newly completed column. Chips of stone still littered the ground. One apprentice examined the carvings up close, wrinkling his nose, while another watched the morning light fall on the marble as if trying to grasp it in his hands. Corvus slowed his steps, watching for a while. It didn’t surprise him that art permeated daily life here—but the city being this lively so early caught his interest.

  Up ahead, a large bronze bell shattered the silence. It came from one of the palace towers perched on the hill. It signaled the beginning of the morning meetings. Corvus finished the last roll, tied the pouch to his belt, and took a deep breath.

  By the time he entered the city center, the main axis of the city was already bustling. Merchant carts, armored guards, and palace officials in elaborate clothes lined the streets. The columns rising on either side of the road bore reliefs glorifying the city; some had small altars dedicated to the gods glittering at the top. Corvus glanced at the statue of Ronahe atop a tall marble pedestal. Her shield reflected the light, and her gaze extended outward toward the sea. “Protect us...” Corvus murmured in his own tongue. Ronahe, the god of Light and Wisdom, though not as mighty as the others, was still worshiped by the Rhazgord.

  A little farther down the avenue leading to the palace, Corvus noticed a crowd gathering. Curious, he turned his head and saw a naked old man sitting in a barrel next to a small fountain. The man was likely over seventy; his hair and beard were sun-bleached white, but there was an unusual liveliness in his eyes. Holding up a lamp in the bright daylight, he shouted to the crowd:

  “I seek a man! A real man!”

  Those around him burst out laughing; some shook their heads and moved on. But the old man paid them no mind and didn’t care about their bewildered stares. He placed the lamp back into the barrel, squinted at the sun, and leaned back, rolling an olive pit in his mouth.

  Corvus stood still for a few seconds. He couldn’t quite grasp what he had seen, nor did he seem likely to forget it. Frowning, he continued walking. “Must be mad…” he thought. But another voice lingered in his mind:

  “Perhaps he’s searching for something we don’t understand.”

  As he approached the palace’s grand courtyard, his mind returned to the plans. He had to meet with Belisarius. There was much to be done, many words to be said. But more than anything, this city was no longer just a stop for him—it was a front. And in this city of art and order waking with the first light of morning, the shadow of Rhazgord was rising.

  As soon as Corvus stepped through the palace’s magnificent stone gate, he tasked a Rhazgord warrior to send word to Belisarius. As the golden reflections of the morning sun danced on the mosaics lining the palace’s tall corridors, Corvus made his way to his room. Upon entering, he opened a heavy bag wrapped in dark leather and pulled out a thick file. It had been meticulously prepared by Baral and his talented team. There was a version in Rhazgordian, but the one Corvus held was translated into Adlerian.

  This file contained all the details of the trade union that symbolized Rhazgord’s new economic initiative. From transport routes to customs regulations, from caravan security to potential income and expenditure charts—everything had been accounted for. Though Corvus had reviewed the plan many times, he was determined to go over it once more before the meeting. As he slowly flipped through the pages, Baral’s voice echoed in his mind—each calm but precise suggestion pointing to a path Rhazgord had never taken before.

  Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door. A young Rhazgord warrior peeked in and announced that Belisarius was expecting him. Corvus carefully closed the file, placed it in his bag, and stood up without delay. Accompanied by a palace servant and two Rhazgord guards, he stepped into the corridors. Their footsteps echoed rhythmically on the stone floors, disturbing the morning’s stillness as the colorful frescoes and elegant columns along the way revealed Adler’s vision of power adorned with beauty.

  Just then, there was a gentle knock at the door. A young Rhazgord warrior peeked in and informed Corvus that Belisarius was expecting him. Corvus carefully closed the file, placed it in his bag, and stood up without delay. Accompanied by a palace servant and two Rhazgord guards, he stepped into the corridors. The sound of footsteps echoing across the stone floors rhythmically disrupted the morning silence, while the colorful frescoes and elegant columns on the walls revealed Adler’s aesthetic-infused vision of power.

  After a short walk, they arrived at Belisarius’s study. When the servant opened the door and invited Corvus in, Belisarius rose from his desk to greet him with a warm expression. After exchanging a few simple greetings, they sat across from each other at the large oak table. Belisarius wore his usual look of curiosity and focus. When Corvus handed him the file, the elder statesman’s eyebrows raised slightly.

  “Contrary to what we discussed earlier,” Corvus said in a calm yet firm tone, “instead of increasing the tax we collect from other countries, we will reduce the tax we collect from you.”

  Belisarius was fully attentive; while listening carefully, he began flipping through the pages of the file quickly yet thoroughly. The plan was impressive not only in content but in presentation as well. The text was organized, the tables were clear, and the details were strikingly meticulous. Belisarius immediately realized that this plan was too refined to have come from the hand of a Rhazgord warrior alone. He sensed that Corvus was backed by people with deep knowledge in trade and economics. Although he couldn’t recall Baral’s name, he could vividly picture his face and quiet demeanor.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Additionally,” Corvus continued, pointing to a page on the table, “I want to establish a trade guild here. This guild will trade exclusively with Rhazgord. To ensure the security of the caravans, a specific number of Rhazgord warriors will also be part of the guild. Of course, we will continue to pay our taxes regularly and at the usual rates.”

  This new proposal caused a slight surprise to cross Belisarius’s face. It was not a request he had expected. For Rhazgord to establish its own trade guild meant direct integration into Adler’s trade system, but also the ability to operate with more autonomy. While this might reduce Adler’s trade profits to some extent, from Belisarius’s strategic perspective, Rhazgord’s integration into the economic system was a far greater gain.

  At one point, Belisarius paused as he skimmed through the pages. He pointed to a section with his finger and looked up at Corvus.

  “You mentioned reducing the customs duties we pay...” he said, “but here I see different rates for different goods. As far as I know, Rhazgord didn’t have such a distinction.”

  Corvus immediately understood the concern. Indeed, the taxation system in Rhazgord was quite simple. In fact, many didn’t even consider it a system. Rhazgord had a practice called 'Xerac' which could be translated into Adler Language as “tribute”. The type or value of goods wasn’t taken into account; instead, a fixed fee was charged per cart entering the territory. This posed a significant disadvantage for merchants transporting low-value but high-volume goods like wheat. As a result, many preferred to avoid trading with Rhazgord altogether.

  Corvus hadn’t noticed this issue himself. But Baral had pointed out this fundamental flaw and proposed a diversified tax model as a solution. Corvus had embraced this idea and had a draft of the new system prepared. Although the new model hadn’t yet been implemented in Rhazgord, Corvus was determined to formalize it as soon as he returned to his homeland.

  “The figures you see there,” Corvus said, pointing to the relevant section of the file, “refer to the customs duties that will apply to you — that is, to Adler. The rates are significantly higher for the other kingdoms; I can assure you of that.”

  Belisarius looked up from the documents briefly, met Corvus’s gaze, then returned to the pages. His expression said a lot. This would not be as advantageous a deal as he had envisioned. But judging by the details in the file and Corvus’s firm posture, the offer had already been stripped of all negotiable elements. Whoever had prepared this plan had equipped Corvus not just with content, but with strategy as well. Corvus spoke like a leader who knew every line of the documents and understood the will behind them.

  “Other than a few small points,” Belisarius said as he skimmed the final pages, “I see no issue in forming a trade union under these terms. Of course, I will need to consult with a few of my advisors. Give me until this evening.”

  Corvus nodded. This was exactly the response he had expected. From the very beginning, Baral had predicted that a few minor revisions would be requested and had clearly informed Corvus which parts were open to negotiation. So none of these demands came as a surprise. Belisarius gently closed the file and leaned back in his chair. He assumed the meeting had concluded. But there was still something unresolved in Corvus’s gaze.

  “I have a second proposal.” Corvus said, his voice deeper and calmer this time. Then, turning toward the door, he added, “But this part needs to be discussed in private.”

  Belisarius hesitated for a moment. Then, nodding slightly, he stood up and approached the large, carved bookshelf mounted on the study’s wall. Placing his hand on the edge, he gave it a strong push, and the structure slid sideways. Behind it, a nearly invisible door appeared in the stone wall. Belisarius opened the door, and a cool stone-scented breeze wafted over their faces. In silence, he simply motioned them inside.

  Once the two passed through, the wooden door slowly closed behind them, leaving only a deep silence. They began descending a sloping passage. The stone floor echoed their footsteps, and the damp tunnel walls stretched quietly into the darkness like ancient witnesses to untold secrets. With every step, Corvus felt they were delving deeper into the lower layers of the palace. This was no ordinary corridor, but a deliberately constructed tunnel network — perhaps known only to Belisarius.

  After minutes of silent walking, they finally reached a small, plainly furnished room. This stone-walled chamber held only a heavy table, a few chairs, and some cabinets leaning against the wall. There were no decorations — only function and secrecy took precedence.

  As soon as Corvus stepped inside, he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and released the Lightstone energy within his body to sense the surroundings. With this ability, he could detect vibrations in the tunnel system and perceive the movements of nearby living beings. There was faint activity in the distance, but no one was present in this room. No one could hear their conversation.

  “No one can hear us here, don’t worry.” Belisarius said, sitting across from him at the table.

  Corvus didn’t waste time. He opened his eyes and spoke with a voice that echoed clearly and confidently in the room.

  “We plan to sell a certain amount of Lightstone.” he said, looking directly into Belisarius’s eyes.

  “And the first buyer that came to mind is you, Belisarius.”

  For Belisarius, Lightstone was not merely a valuable resource; it was the fate of a kingdom. It was the only spark that could resurrect the Adler Kingdom, long oppressed under the shadow of the Sizat Empire. But no matter what they did, they couldn’t obtain enough of it.

  Once found in mines, Lightstone could now only be extracted from the corpses of demons. That alone was a significant issue, but the real problem ran deeper: the Sizat Empire was buying every gram of Lightstone on the market and controlling the rest. It was almost entirely blocking its vassals’ access to this resource, thus keeping their dependency sustainable.

  The Adler Kingdom earned dozens of kilos of gold every year, yet in return, they could only acquire a few kilos of Lightstone. No matter how powerful their merchants were, Sizat’s pressure loomed over every trade like Rhazkar’s sword.

  The man across from him—Corvus Tiamat—was no longer the person he once knew. When they first met, Corvus was merely a smarter and more capable warrior than the average Rhazgordian. But in the few months since then, he had undergone a serious transformation. Though he still had certain shortcomings, he had become a leader who understood politics and economics. Moreover, he had intelligent advisors like Baral behind him.

  When Corvus had given Adler a large amount of Lightstone in exchange for goods in the past, he had done it out of necessity. But now the situation was different: Rhazgord’s economy had recovered, its roads had been cleared of bandits, and merchants were now racing to enter this large market. That meant Corvus had a different request this time.

  There was only a brief silence, a few seconds at most—but within it, Belisarius calculated an entire strategy in his mind.

  “What do you want in return?” he asked.

  There was curiosity in his question, but what he truly emphasized was directness. Trying to guess what was going on in Corvus’s mind was a waste of time. This man no longer acted on simple interests.

  Corvus leaned slightly forward, his eyes locking onto Belisarius’s.

  “My offer is this...” he said.

  “We will provide you with a steady and abundant supply of Lightstone at a fair price. In return, you will provide us with intelligence. And we will form an alliance to which both sides will remain loyal, no matter what happens.”

  He ended his sentence with a heavy pause:

  “We will show the same loyalty. Even in the face of ruin.”

  Belisarius had expected harsher terms. But this proposal was quite acceptable. Paying for Lightstone wasn’t an issue—it was worth it. An alliance with Rhazgord could also be beneficial for Adler. The only unknown was the scope of the intelligence being asked for.

  “What do you mean by intelligence, Corvus?” he asked, his tone that of a cautious inquiry from a serious man.

  “What exactly do you want?”

  Corvus sat upright in his chair. His gaze was unwavering. His voice carried the calm seriousness of a leader.

  “Direct information sharing. If the knowledge we need exists in your archives, you will share it with us without question. Of course, nothing personal or strategically sensitive to you. But anything about the outside world, especially about Sizat, must be shared.”

  Belisarius’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. The rhythm was steady but not angry; he was thinking.

  It was risky. Though the Adler Kingdom had lost its former strength, its intelligence organization still stood. This structure, which had once spread across the entire continent like a spiderweb, had not been significantly affected by the empire’s collapse. On the other hand, the Sizat Empire was no less capable. Belisarius knew all too well that if they discovered sensitive information had been shared with Rhazgord, their reaction would be severe.

  He decided to negotiate.

  “We’re willing to buy the Lightstone above market price. An alliance is also possible. But the intelligence—”

  Corvus interrupted.

  “No ‘but’, Belisarius.”

  He never looked away.

  “This is the offer. No negotiation.”

  Belisarius hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t thought Corvus would speak so decisively. Internally, he had anticipated a more flexible offer with room to bargain—like any businessman, like any politician. But that door was now closed.

  He paused for a moment. Thought. His eyes shifted from Corvus’s crimson eyes to the stone ceiling of the room. Finally, he spoke, nodding slowly:

  “I can’t accept such a proposal without consulting my father.”

  Corvus’s eyebrows lifted slightly. His eyes remained fixed on Belisarius. The young prince’s response wasn’t unexpected, but a brief wave of disappointment still flickered across his face. It wasn’t a proposal that required immediate acceptance. This wasn’t a desperate negotiation from Rhazgord—it was a calculated move. A deliberate chess maneuver.

  Corvus had two main reasons for making this offer. The first was to feed the newly formed intelligence agency in Rhazgord. Still in its infancy, this institution didn’t yet have the capacity to produce comprehensive intelligence on its own. But if access to the broad and sophisticated network Adler had built over the years could be secured… That could compress Rhazgord’s years-long evolution into just a few.

  The second, and perhaps deeper, motive was to stoke the flames of rebellion burning in Belisarius’s heart. Corvus knew well the hatred he felt for Sizat. His desire for independence wasn’t just an ideal—it was a rage pulsing through his veins. If Adler could secure a steady supply of Lightstone, it would not only stabilize internally but could eventually gain the power to stand against Sizat. That would allow Rhazgord to gain ground not by confronting the enemy directly, but through the enemy’s enemy—creating a strategic buffer.

  Moreover, an alliance—written or unwritten—wouldn’t bind Adler to Rhazgord. It would make Adler a rival to Sizat directly. This would allow Rhazgord to establish not only commercial but also political equilibrium, accelerating its influence over the continent’s future.

  Corvus shook off his thoughts and ended the silence with his final words:

  “I’ll be returning to Rhazgord at sunset tomorrow...” he said. His voice carried no threat, no urgency; it was simply a statement.

  “Give me your decision by then. Once the decision is made, I’ll share the details of the offer.”

  He stood up. The simple yet functional armor he wore gave off a dull glint in the torchlight. His eyes never left Belisarius’s. He had nothing more to say. Everything that needed to be said at this table had been said. All that remained were choices—and consequences.