I watched patiently as the group of street urchins gathered in the bakery's basement, their eyes flickering between curiosity and skepticism of why I summoned them all down here on this Sunday. Did they do something wrong? Did something happen? Well, no, but they didn't know that. I simply wanted to train them a little to ease my own work when sifting through their 'reports.'
The cellar was small and dimly lit, the air filled with the scent of flour and the faint kick from yeast. The morning's baking session was already happening because the shop was never really closed, and Lira was working as usual. And she told me to relax... hehe... Anyway! Refocusing my thoughts, I looked at the single lantern hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the faces of the half-dozen kids present. It felt as if I had suddenly become some kind of teacher.
Maybe I was indeed becoming on. I had taken care to select those who had quick feet and equally swift minds—children like Puck, who had learned to survive on the streets but lacked direction. I was the one giving them that purpose now, and Puck was the perfect example they wanted to follow. Was this something that could be categorized as grooming? Probably... However, it was also the most sure method that they would use to stay loyal in the long term.
"As your main job, listen." I began as I set a small pouch of coins on the table, the clink of gold drawing their attention to the same point, making their ears twitch as if they were a group of hungry cats. "You all know by now how to do it, but now you need to learn how to not only pick up on it but to begin sifting through the news before bringing it back. I no longer need useless information... It's time to decide what you pass back because I will stop rewarding everything. You are no longer amateurs! You must listen, and now you must also start hearing."
"Mister Auriel..." The youngest of the group, a girl named Mira, frowned. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, looking around nervously before continuing. "Isn't it the same?"
"No," I answered, kneeling to her level so our eyes met. "Hearing means understanding what's important. You need to remember details—who said what, where they were, what they were wearing. You must remember how they looked. Did they seem nervous? Angry? The little things tell the biggest stories. I am no longer going to be satisfied with half rumors!"
"But how do we know what is important?" Someone else asked, feeling nervous.
"Use your brains." Puck, leaning against the wall at the entrance to the cellar with his usual smirk, chimed in. "You can differentiate between hearing about someone losing something valuable and losing their favorite hat, no?"
"There are gossips and rumors that are too mundane for us to keep track of." I chuckled, standing back up. "We only need proper information. The type of details that has value." With that, I pulled out a series of small wooden tokens from my pocket, each etched with different symbols. Carefully, I spread them out on the table, signaling to them to come closer and take a look, "When you hear something worth noting, you'll report it back using these. There are no big words, just symbols."
It also helped that they more or less managed to learn some basic writing and reading. It was still horrible, with a ton of misspellings and whatnot, but Lira and I were slowly teaching them whenever we had time.
"The bakery is safe, but outside of here, you never say any of our names, and most of all, you must never mention all of our boss's name: Shade. You will use these symbols to mark the things you hear when delivering them to us. It will rank how important you think your gathered information is. Use the white symbol if you are unsure, green if it is interesting, and yellow if it is important. Understood?"
"..." A murmur of assent followed, though some of the younger ones still looked wholly uncertain, nervous, and even a bit panicked. On the other hand, Puck's grin widened, clearly eager to try it out. "This is starting to sound fun."
"This is not a game," I chided him sternly while my expression turned serious. "It's not for fun. If you're caught prying where you shouldn't, it won't end well. Overconfidence will make you sloppy, and I am not pulling any of your sorry asses out of prison, got it? If you get caught because you are swaggering around like an idiot, I will pretend I never knew you in the first place! Mistakes can be made... but when those mistakes are your own damned fault, be sure that I will let you experience its consequences in its entirety!"
"S-sorry..." Puck mumbled, wiping the smirk off his face and lowering his head, trying to look invisible.
"Otherwise..." I continued in a softer tone, looking at the others. "I will try to get you out of trouble. But as I said, you need to be smart, blend in, and be invisible. And don't blabber if caught! Silence is worth just as much as gold. Only then can I help you."
"Y-yes..." Mira tilted her head, her curiosity outweighing her fears. "Um, Mister Auriel, what if we hear something really important? Like... someone planning to rob a shop or something?"
"Mark your notes with red. If it is something you feel is critical. Plus, you come straight to me," I said, my tone firm again. "But don't act on it yourself. You're not enforcers, nor are you thieves. You're simply observers. You are Shade's eyes and ears out in the city. Your job is to listen, not to interfere. If you can't get back to us with the information in time, just keep watching. Note everything down... And bring that knowledge back here. I will sift through it."
"What if we use the wrong colors?" Another young boy asked, missing some of his teeth from the front.
"I will judge that, and if you do, I will tell you. Don't worry; you will get used to it and understand how to categorize them. I won't be angry if you make mistakes. Not at the start, that is." I explained, glancing at each of them, "Improve yourselves and prove you can be a proper part of Shade's Emporium. If you do, there will be a roof over your head—food in your bellies and a fireplace to huddle around in the winter. If you prove yourselves, you are going to have a place in something bigger than working the streets. But Shade is not a charitable man... he wants results. And it's up to you to earn his coin and help."
The room fell silent after I finished, making them nod, exchange glances, and fidget a little. Even Puck's smirk failed to return as he was just as serious as them. Maybe he thought about the consequences if he failed, that Shade may kick him out. Well, I wouldn't. He was one of my best agents among the kids. Puck really had a good head on his shoulders, bringing back the best tidbits he could while roaming the streets. Thanks to him, I already had a basic understanding of how the local underworld was split up.
I was even expecting one of those groups to soon knock on our bakery's door as we were starting to make some proper money—something that a group like the Crows would also be interested in. As for when that happened, I was already collecting information on the gang roaming around this part of the city, the one most likely to visit us. They called themselves the Tunnel Snakes, which made me involuntarily smirk... Even if they ruled, I would have a surprise ready for them.
"Alright," I chuckled, shaking the thoughts out of my head and clapping my hands together. "Let's practice. Puck, you're up first. Tell me what you noticed on your way here today, and assign the proper color to what you have in your hands."
"Yes!" He nodded as he straightened, his expression turning thoughtful. "Uh... Let's see... two guards were arguing near the market. Something about unpaid wages: Green, I think... They could be targets of bribery, but... nothing much besides that. Hmm... Then, I saw a merchant unloading crates from a cart that looked like they contained spices, but he was acting shifty like he didn't want anyone to see. I followed, and he put the crates in an unmarked building. Probably smuggling something... Yellow. I would put this into yellow."
"Good." I nodded, smiling proudly. "Very good. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about. Now, let's see if the rest of you can do the same..."
...
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...
Across the city, at Veren & Sons' newly refurbished storefront, Markus Veren sat with his arms crossed, a pipe hanging loosely between his lips as his eyes kept scanning the bustling street outside. Everything was back to normal. No, everything was even better than before. He was in his new office, clean, well-organized, and filled with cabinets of new, profitable orders and their documents, proof of how his group finally moved out of mediocrity and into the actual big leagues. The shelves in their shops were stocked with neatly labeled jars and vials, starting to dabble more in potions, and the polished counters gleamed under the light of the hanging lanterns... welcoming in much wealthier customers than ever before.
Everything looked to be going up.
His son, Rellen, brought him back to reality by placing a list of recent business proposals on the table before him, his brow furrowed.
"Something's not right," he muttered, his voice low.
"Issue?" He asked, picking the pipe out of his mouth, furrowing his brows because he wasn't expecting Rellen's words to be so... serious.
"The noble connections we made should have opened more doors... And they did... but suddenly, every supplier we negotiate with is backing out at the last moment. Someone is cutting us off. It became noticeable two days ago; I just wasn't sure about it. But Edvin had also run the numbers and names... it shows a pattern."
"..." Markus drummed his fingers against the wood, his expression thoughtful, his brows furrowing, "We didn't step on anyone's toes, did we? I told everyone to be careful, and things went well... so far..."
"I..." Rellen hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I don't think it's about what we did. It's about what we are, Father. I was thinking about it, and we double-checked... We have done everything perfectly. I think the issue is that we've moved from being just another merchant house to an actual contender. And someone doesn't like that."
"That..." Markus muttered, remembering Willem, his brother's words, who theorized that the robbery could be a rival noble family's or group's work.
Yet, just as he was about to say something, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a well-dressed man. He was escorted in by Willem, who warned his brother with a quick look and told him the guest was not here on friendly terms. Looking at the man, his clothes were subtly marked with the insignia of the Merchant Syndicate—one of the main conglomerations operating within Velgrada's walls, collecting about a dozen merchant groups under one roof... the roof of the Crimson Ledger. No wonder the man's presence was commanding, his polished boots clicking against the floor as he approached the counter, smiling like a snake. Was he here to recruit them...? To... buy them out? That was what Markus thought the moment he recognized who he was dealing with.
"Markus Veren," the man greeted smoothly, his voice carrying the practiced ease of someone accustomed to negotiations where the terms had already been decided... The arrogance was tangible. "I hear business is booming for you. Congratulations!"
"Well, thank you!" Markus met his gaze evenly, his tone friendly and his eyes smiling at him. "We've been fortunate. Luckily, hard work pays off."
"Of course," The man smiled, but there was something about the expression that put everyone on edge. "Indeed. But Velgrada is a city of balance, my inexperienced friend. Some rise too fast, and it disrupts the order of things. If I were you, I'd be cautious. Prosperity can invite... complications. You need... backers."
"..." Markus didn't respond immediately... "We'll keep that in mind."
"Yes, you do that." The man inclined his head, his smile never wavering. "Good... We wouldn't want your newfound success to be fleeting as it would keep our city's trade flowing and healthy, ahaha~! I was just dropping in, wanting to see the newest addition to our ever-growing circle~! I am not disturbing any further... Ciao~!"
With that, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a soft click as Willem pulled it close, determined to escort the strange man out until he truly left their compounds.
"Shit..." Rellen exhaled, his shoulders remaining tense. "That was a threat! From..."
"That was the Crimson Ledger," Markus nodded grimly. "And we need to find out why they suddenly care about us."
"I think we both know why..." Rellen hesitated before speaking, his voice low, afraid someone was still listening. "But maybe we should reach out to Shade again... Maybe he knows more."
"Maybe..." Markus whispered while he considered it, his fingers tapping against his table. "Yeah... Do it," he said finally. "But discreetly. We need to know what we're up against before we make our next move... We can't have the Ledger or their Syndicate as our enemy."