Darius tapped on the piece of paper before him and sighed. He had asked Ryker to come see him so they could go over the trade agreements they needed to finalize.
The candlelight flickered gently against the polished edge of the desk. It was still early, but Darius had already downed two cups of strongleaf tea and scribbled across the margins of the old trade maps. The parchment in front of him was filled with notes in neat, heavy strokes, Ironshade’s current inventory, expected yield from the mines in Hollowrock, and the estimated capacity of transport wagons bound westward.
Ryker entered a moment later, without knocking, a habit Darius had long since stopped reprimanding him for. He tossed his coat onto the back of a nearby chair and flopped into the seat across from Darius with a groan.
"You called?" he drawled, resting his boot on his opposite knee.
Darius gestured toward the paper. "We need to finalize what we’re offering Dawnbreak. I want it clear before the formal talks start."
Ryker raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward, scanning the spread of documents. "So this is it, huh? The start of something dangerously diplomatic."
"Very," Darius said dryly. "You would be amazed how many ways someone can twist the wording of ’iron shipment.’"
Ryker snorted. "Not when they are dealing with Livia. It is a shame for them that she is onboard with all of this."
Darius eyes Ryker, he still wondered if the stocky man had given an apology to his cousin, nevertheless it would be something they could sort out after the storm of Dawnbreak had passed.
"Still," Darius said, tapping a finger against the section labeled Gemstone Reserve – Oakdeep Vaults, "we can’t afford to appear desperate. This alliance has to look like mutual benefit, not a plea for reintegration."
Ryker crossed his arms and sat back in the chair. "It’s not just optics anymore, is it? We need this."
Darius didn’t answer at first. His eyes remained fixed on the paper, but his thoughts ran far beyond the ink and numbers.
"No," he admitted quietly. "We do not have the reach we used to. Ironshade is strong, but we have been out of the loop in Kaldora. We need their textiles, their medicine... the roads they travel. But we can’t say that outright."
"Right," Ryker said. "Pride is a fragile beast."
Darius lifted his head and looked at his second. "You were at Hollowrock last season. What’s your read on how soon we can increase output?"
"Three months if the weather holds," Ryker replied. "Two if we push, but then we’ll need more carts and fresher oxen. Or we delay the Silverstone run again."
Darius frowned. "We can not delay that again. We made a promise."
"Then you will need to be clever with how you offer Dawnbreak the ore. Make them work for it, split shipments or hold a ceremonial exchange," Ryker said with a shrug.
Darius gave a quiet sound of thought and jotted something down in the margins.
"They want the ore," Ryker added, voice dropping slightly. "But they want the fine work more. They can dig in their own hills, but they can not match what we do with it. Hawthorn steel is still spoken of in parts of the East."
Darius nodded. "We will highlight that. Frame it as cultural–’a token of Ironshade’s legacy,’ something dramatic."
Ryker chuckled. "Do you want me to write the speech?"
"Only if I want to start a war," Darius replied without missing a beat. They both shared a brief grin before returning to the more serious list. For original chapters go to NoveIꜰire.net
"And what are we asking for, officially?" Ryker asked.
"Textiles," Darius said, checking it off. "They know we lack the volume, especially for the colder passes."
"Any chance they suspect we need their herbs for more than just trade?"
Darius’s jaw tightened. "Not unless Silas has been whispering. The injuries from rogue attacks are still... difficult to treat. We will be subtle. Just enough to restock the infirmary and keep the border medics from raising questions."
Ryker nodded and leaned forward. "What about the news?"
"They have the roads and access to the Lowlands, to the trade rivers." Darius’s voice was low. "We need their scribes, their maps, and their rumors."
"And in return," Ryker said slowly, "we promise not to dig our heels in when they ask about military partnerships."
Darius didn’t answer. He stared at the word coordination scrawled in faint ink at the bottom of the page. "Later," he said firmly. "Not now."
Ryker raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright then."
For a moment, they were quiet. Only the scratch of Darius’s quill and the soft creak of Ryker shifting in his chair broke the stillness.
"You think Dawnbreak will agree?" Ryker asked.
Darius sighed again. "They didn’t send Riven just to insult us. He’s observant, calculating. I think they want this, but on their terms."
Ryker’s eyes narrowed slightly. "He watched Serena during the dance."
"I noticed," Darius said coolly.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
Darius finally looked up. "Not for the alliance." The words were clipped, and Ryker, knowing Darius as well as he did, didn’t push further.
Instead, he gestured to the parchment. "Then let us make it so good they can’t say no."
The two bent over the paperwork again, going line by line, discussing caravans and stone routes, the names of minor towns like Stonebrae and Embermere brought into the fold.
By the time the conversation slowed, the sun had arced higher in the sky, casting golden light through the narrow windows.
Ryker stood, stretching. "Would you finish the official draft before the first session?"
Darius nodded. "Yes. I’ll handle it."
Ryker hesitated. "We need you in top shape."
Ryker studied him, then gave a nod. "Very well then. Just remember, if this works, it changes everything. Dawnbreak isn’t just any ally."
With that, Ryker pulled his coat back on and strode from the room.
Darius sat back in his chair and exhaled. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier and lighter all at once. The decisions ahead were large, bigger than feasts and diplomacy games.
But if they made it through this...