The city woke beneath a gray veil of mist — the kind that softened outlines but sharpened whispers. By dawn, talk of "discrepancies" in Marcus Vale's ledgers had slipped quietly through merchant circles. A few clients asked careful questions, testing for weakness. It was not yet scandal. But Sebastian Crowne intended to make it one.
At the docks, Marcus lifted a crate himself, the strain grounding him amid uncertainty. A merchant nearby cleared his throat.
"I hear there were… inconsistencies," he said lightly, though his gaze was sharp. "We trust you've resolved them. Accuracy is everything when city contracts are concerned."
Marcus set the crate down with deliberate care. "Every shipment has been verified. Any discrepancy you've heard of was planted."
The merchant's polite smile didn't reach his eyes. Marcus saw the seed of doubt already taking root.
In the council chamber, Crowne fed that seed. Rising with his habitual poise, his voice carried like oil poured over water.
"Councilmen," he began, "it has come to my attention that certain enterprises tied to our contracts show… irregularities. I make no accusation — yet. But if lapses exist, we must examine them, lest public trust falter."
All eyes turned toward Adrian Vale.
Adrian stood slowly, composed as marble. "Supervision will be exacting, Councilman Crowne. Every shipment, every account, transparent. Allegation without evidence, however, undermines progress more than any ledger ever could."
Crowne's lips curved in a private smile. Adrian's restraint irritated him more than outrage would have. The bait hung in the water — untouched.
At the warehouse, Daniel Parker bent over the ledgers, eyes sharp with fatigue and focus. His finger paused halfway down a column.
"Here," he said, passing the book to Marcus. "This entry was altered. That shipment arrived days later than recorded. It's small, but enough to spark suspicion."
Marcus leaned in, jaw set. "A pattern of incompetence, carefully staged."
Daniel nodded. "If left unchecked, it will look deliberate — and political."
"Crowne," Marcus said under his breath.
"Whoever it is," Daniel replied, "they're clever, but not flawless. I'll verify every line. No falsehood will stand."
Marcus's hand fell to his shoulder, brief but firm. "Then that's what we'll do. Every page checked, every number clean. If they mean to twist the story, we'll make them choke on the truth."
That evening, Emily found Marcus near the warehouses, the lantern light tracing the wear on his face.
"You look worn to the bone," she said softly.
He managed a tired smile. "Crowne's extended his war to my docks. He's weaving politics into trade — and I can fight it, but the effort weighs heavy."
She slid her hands into his, gaze steady. "Then lean on those who stand with you. On me. Let him whisper all he likes — honesty leaves deeper roots than rumor."
Her certainty steadied him. "Your faith, Emily," he murmured, "is the one thing Crowne cannot touch."
Across the city, Crowne entertained his allies in a private parlor, the glow of brandy and candlelight soft against the gleam of calculation.
"They resist well," he said lightly. "Marcus checks, Adrian counters, even that young Parker has teeth. But vigilance frays under pressure."
One man leaned forward. "Then you intend to apply more?"
Crowne's smile sharpened. "Much more. City contracts, private accounts — every thread examined until they stretch too thin to hold. Then we strike."
The others murmured approval, unaware they were only pawns upon his board.
Later, in Adrian's study, Marcus spread the ledgers across the desk, the lamplight reflecting off weary eyes.
"They're trying to force mistakes out of us," he said tightly. "To entwine trade with politics until doubt stains us both."
Adrian steepled his fingers. "Then no mistakes. Every word measured, every ledger airtight. We answer pressure with patience. Crowne mistakes restraint for weakness — that will be his undoing."
Marcus exhaled slowly. "Then patience it is. For now."
After supper, Charlotte and Emily walked the garden paths, lanterns glowing softly between branches.
"This is only the beginning," Charlotte said, her voice low. "Crowne won't stop at ledgers. He's testing the edges for weakness."
Emily drew her shawl close. "Then we'll do as they do — watch carefully, stand firm. Marcus, Adrian, Daniel — they'll hold. And we'll lend our strength where we can."
Charlotte's lips curved faintly. "Good. Because storms are gathering — and when they break, it won't only be men in chambers who must weather them."
By nightfall, Daniel was still bent over the books, the scratch of his pen the only sound in the quiet office. Marcus paced nearby, Adrian's words echoing in his mind: Patience. Vigilance. No mistakes.
Elsewhere, Sebastian Crowne leaned over a map of New Albion, the candlelight flickering across his face. The Vales still stood firm, but all men broke when pulled from too many sides. He intended to make certain of it.
Hours later, in a small rented room above the docks, Daniel lay awake, the numbers replaying behind his eyes — the smudged ink, the overwritten digits, the subtle, deliberate pattern. Each altered entry had passed through the same hands. The same clerk who always volunteered to carry the ledgers.
He sat up, heart quickening. It wasn't proof yet, but it was more than chance. Someone trusted was working from within.
He sank back against the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling, questions chasing one another through his mind. Why? For whom?
Daniel's jaw set. Tomorrow, he would watch. And by nightfall, he would know.