Chapter 20: The Price of Retaliation

Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The Price of Retaliation

Three days later in the Emberwind merchant district...

It started with the caravans. Then came the warehouse cancellations. Then several minor suppliers stopped renewing agreements.

They didn’t declare war on Emberwind. Instead, they boasted about having been offered better deals.

By the end of the week, Baron Emberwind had received twelve such reports. In his office, he could only stare at those reports as he ripped the thirteenth in half.

"Who?"

The merchant before him swallowed hard. "Oakwood," he said.

"Oakwood? The Oakwood I buried?"

"Yes, my lord."

The baron stared at him as if the name itself had personally insulted his ancestors. "Lord Oakwood has barely been established for a few months."

"Yes."

"He has no major roads. Even the roads he had, I took them."

"Yes."

"No established merchant guild. The little merchants he had, I took them as well."

"Yes."

"Then how—how in the name of the bloody goddess—is he replacing my suppliers?"

The merchant shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "He’s paying them more. Or rather, he’s offering them stakes in his house name," he said unwillingly.

The baron’s hand came down on the desk, making the inkwell jump. "Then lower your prices," he said.

"We did."

"And?"

"They still left."

The room fell silent.

Because everyone understood what that meant. This was no longer a noble punishing another noble.

It was a commercial war. And Allan had just accepted it and was winning it.

Emberwind, breathing heavily, walked to the window. His face was red. In his hand, the knife of his house—the same knife which Allan Oakwood was using against him.

"The Adventurer’s Guild after my interests and this? All because of him. All because of Allan Oakwood."

"And Lady Arclight, perhaps?"

He turned to him. "What do you mean?"

The merchant came near, his lips to his ear. "My lord, rumours have it that Allan Oakwood has relations with the daughter of Arclight."

The baron was silent for a long while.

"My lord?"

He said nothing, his hand already on the blade. He unsheathed it slowly and silently.

Seeing it, seeing his gaze change from simple rage to something else, the merchant took a step back. "My lord, I...I didn’t mean to. I was wrong—"

He couldn’t speak anymore. The baron’s blade was already deep in his throat.

The baron kept looking at him, crimson blood pouring from the edge of his lips.

"She is mine and mine alone," he said, withdrawing his knife. The jewel in the knife glowed brighter and brighter, absorbing the blood from the merchant.

"Allan Oakwood, I see what you are really after. It seems you really don’t know your place. I will show you and make it clear for your tiny brain to understand."

Oakwood Manor.

The invitation arrived the following evening.

The invitation to the merchant banquet was written on thick ivory paper and sealed with dark red wax. A servant, dressed in the colors of Emberwind, delivered it.

Allan read it once.

"Merchant banquet," he said.

"Hosted by Emberwind?" Seris looked over his shoulder at the invitation.

"Indeed."

"What happened? Your stunt yesterday caught him so off guard that now he wants to make amends?" Seris muttered.

Lira frowned. "That’s not suspicious at all."

Allan continued smiling as he folded the paper and placed it on the table. "Someone has to enjoy the free wine, and it might as well be me."

"Master, are you really mad? It’s clearly a trap."

Allan smiled faintly. "Like I told you. Someone has to enjoy the free wine. It’s free."

Seris looked at Lira and Lira at her. It seemed he wasn’t going to listen to them at all.

"Okay, ladies, prepare my suit. I want to look fabulous," Allan said, heading out.

The banquet was being held at the private hall of Emberwind, an enormous structure located on the outskirts of the eastern district of the city, overlooking it.

The hall was lavishly decorated with crystal lamps suspended from the ceiling and the noble arms of Emberwind’s trading partners lining the walls. A small raised dais at the far end of the hall held the musicians, who played softly in the background.

Servants moved between the tables, bearing bottles of fine wines, large roasting pans, and platters of exotic sweets so beautiful they looked almost too good to eat.

Allan arrived alone.

That was deliberate.

If he went with a big group from Oakwood, they would say he was showing off how powerful he was.

If he came with Amelia Arclight, then everyone would know he had taken sides.

So he came alone tonight.

"Oh, not shabby. Not shabby at all, Lord Emberwind," he whispered to himself, his hands already going for the wine.

As he made his way through the hall, conversations ceased. At first they were friendly enough, but once it was established that he was there alone, they stopped altogether.

Some merchants smiled politely. Everyone else, however, was studiously ignoring him with equal concentration on the floor. Marvelous.

A few nobles whispered behind their glasses. Some newly appointed knights and other barons lingered here and there.

Allan ignored them, as he wasn’t there for them.

He approached a table where a merchant who had recently found that Emberwind had stopped doing business with him was seated. The man was surprised-looking and nearly choked on his wine.

"Your eastern warehouse," Allan said.

The merchant nearly choked on his wine. "My lord?"

"You’re selling it."

"How did you—"

"Because Emberwind has ceased to do business with you. And I suppose you look like a man who has lost a lot of dignity the last three nights, wondering what it’s going to cost him."

The man’s expression hardened. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You’re selling it to me."

Allan took a sip, unhurried.

"How much?"

The man’s expression wavered, but he seemed to regain his composure. "Lord Oakwood, this is not the place for—"

"Eight hundred gold?"

The merchant’s mouth opened. Allan watched his expression carefully. Seven hundred would have been enough. Eight hundred is the amount where you have room to negotiate but still can make the other person feel smart for a few seconds.

The merchant swallowed. "The property is worth at least one thousand."

"Seven hundred and fifty."

"One thousand."

"Eight hundred."

The merchant looked around. Nobody was paying attention. Or at least everyone was pretending not to with Olympic-level skill.

"One thousand," he repeated, though the conviction had already started leaking out of his voice.

Allan smiled. "Done."

The merchant stared at him. "You’re buying it?"

"Tomorrow morning. Send the papers to Oakwood. And try not to look so surprised. It’s bad for the complexion."

The merchant looked as though he had been stunned into silence.

Allan walked away. The second acquisition was a caravan company. The third was a failing grain warehouse. The fourth was a rope manufacturer. The fifth was a small leather supplier.

By the sixth purchase, however, he had their complete attention.

Whispers spread across the banquet hall like wildfire through dry parchment.

"What is he doing?"

"Is he buying them?" ℯℯ𝘭.

"Those businesses are worthless."

"No. They’re Emberwind’s abandoned businesses."

That was precisely why Allan wanted them. That was precisely why he had accepted the banquet invitation. All of the businesses that Emberwind had ruined were now available at a low price.

And Allan had something Emberwind didn’t.

Capital.

He also had something more important.

Patience.

At the opposite end of the hall, Baron Emberwind’s face was growing darker by the minute. It was as if someone was slowly turning down the lamps around his head.

Eventually, he approached, walking with rageful eagerness.

"Lord Oakwood," he called softly.

Allan turned. "Oh, Baron Emberwind. It’s been long. Very long."

The Baron looked at the merchants Allan had been speaking with earlier. "I hear you’ve been spending heavily tonight," the Baron said to Allan.

"Just a few purchases," Allan continued. "Nothing dramatic, really. Just some spring cleaning."

"Buying damaged businesses is hardly impressive."

"No," Allan said, turning to the tables of merchants. "But buying the businesses that your House no longer wants to run seems to be making a big impression lately. I find that rather funny. And why do you care? You don’t want them anyway."

A muscle flexed in the baron’s jaw. "You are becoming ambitious, I see," he said. "So ambitious you have lost your way and lost your death."

"I was already that type of person. Now I just have a bit more money to pursue my ambitions, and don’t worry, I am not using any forbidden magic to shoot my way to success."

The Baron’s eyes opened wide for a couple of seconds, glowing red. Then he calmed himself down.

"You’re making enemies, Lord Oakwood. I hope you don’t make decisions that you would later regret. There are forces beyond money and power."

Allan smiled.

"Just like paying taxes, isn’t it?" he added. Baron Emberwind felt a shiver run down his spine at the almost imperceptible tone change that signalled he was now enjoying himself.

"Money does not equal power; power is power. And for you, Lord Oakwood, I have enough power to bury you here and now," he said softly.

"No, no, no, no," Allan said, slightly backing away, his voice loud and clear. "I believe that money is power, and I can choose where I want to use it. It is a very expensive difference, but there is a difference. That’s how I became the seventh god. Money, investments and power."

Thud!

All of a sudden, knights in armour poured form the main door.

"Lord Allan oakwood," one of the commanding knight shouted.

"You are here by detained, in the name of the emperium."