Hadrian sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples as another stack of complaints landed in front of him. The game Zach developed had taken Ravennest by storm, with demand skyrocketing beyond expectations. However, with that success came a flood of problems specifically, merchants who weren't given permits to sell it.
He exhaled, glancing at the latest letter. "Another one? How many does that make today?"
His assistant, a young clerk named Roland, shuffled awkwardly. "That would be… the twenty-sixth complaint today, sir."
Hadrian leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Why do they keep sending these? Lady Vivian already made her stance clear. The number of permitted sellers won't change."
"They believe if they push hard enough, you'll convince Lady Vivian to reconsider," Roland replied carefully.
Hadrian scoffed. "As if I have the power to change her mind. I merely execute her will."
As if on cue, the door to his office burst open, and an enraged merchant stormed inside. "Master Hadrian! This is an outrage!"
Hadrian barely contained his sigh. "Master Luthen, what seems to be the issue?"
Luthen slapped a piece of parchment onto Hadrian's desk. "You know exactly what the issue is! My store has been denied the right to sell the game! Meanwhile, lesser merchants who lack my experience and reach are given the privilege? How is that fair?"
Hadrian gave the parchment a passing glance before shaking his head. "The selection process was designed to ensure fair distribution and prevent price gouging. Those with a history of inflating prices were not given permits."
Luthen's face turned red. "Absurd! I would never "
"Oh? Would you like me to pull the records of last winter when you raised the price of basic supplies during the shortage?" Hadrian's sharp gaze met Luthen's.
The merchant clenched his fists but said nothing.
"I thought so." Hadrian rubbed his forehead. "The decision stands. Please see yourself out."
Luthen huffed, muttering curses under his breath as he stomped out.
Roland chuckled. "That was satisfying."
Hadrian groaned. "It would be if I wasn't dealing with twenty-five more just like him."
Before he could finish that thought, another knock came at the door.
Hadrian placed his head on the desk. "I swear, if this is another complaint, I'm going to throw something."
Roland peeked at the door. "Well… do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Hadrian sighed. "Start with the bad."
"More merchants are waiting outside."
"And the good?" Hadrian asked, though he already regretted it.
"You still have some headache medicine left."
Hadrian groaned louder. "Get me that medicine. And bring more tea."
Roland laughed. "Right away, sir."
As the voices of angry merchants echoed outside, Hadrian could only close his eyes and brace himself for the next wave of headaches to come.
Hadrian had spent the entire day dealing with furious merchants, their complaints echoing through his office like an endless storm. He had tried reasoning with them, explaining that Lady Vivian's decision was final, but it was like talking to a wall. These merchants, denied permits to sell the game, were relentless. Their demands, their anger it all piled onto him, wearing him down.
By the time the last merchant stormed out, slamming the door behind him, Hadrian exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples. "What a headache," he muttered, slumping into his chair. The pressure of managing this booming game market was becoming unbearable. He knew Lady Vivian was right unregulated sales would lead to chaos but that didn't make dealing with these merchants any easier.
As the evening settled in, Hadrian was about to retire for the night when a hurried knock at the door disturbed him. One of his trusted workers entered, looking uneasy. "Sir, there's something you should know."
Hadrian straightened. "What is it now?"
The worker hesitated before speaking. "We've received word that the merchants who were denied permits have gathered for a secret meeting. They've started contacting smaller merchants who were approved, trying to cut deals behind the scenes."
Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "So they're scheming already... I should have known they wouldn't back down so easily. Keep monitoring them and report anything suspicious."
Just as the worker was about to leave, another servant rushed into the room, breathless. "Sir! We just confirmed those merchants are loading large quantities of the game into carriages. They're planning to smuggle them out of the city!"
Hadrian's fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair. "So they're trying to move the game to other towns?" His voice carried a sharp edge.
The worker nodded. "It seems that way. They're taking advantage of the high demand and scarcity."
Hadrian slammed his fist on the desk, his patience finally snapping. "Those greedy bastards! Even after all their complaining, they go behind our backs to exploit the situation?" His anger flared, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. Losing his temper wouldn't solve the issue he needed to act.
He sat back down and grabbed a sheet of parchment. "I won't deal with them directly. Prepare a full report I'll be taking this straight to Lady Vivian and Rendon. If they want to break the rules, they'll have to answer to her personally."
As the worker rushed out, Hadrian dipped his quill in ink, writing furiously. The headache from earlier was nothing compared to the frustration boiling inside him now. If these merchants thought they could manipulate the system so easily, they were about to learn otherwise.
Rendon sat in his office late at night, rubbing his temples as he read through Hadrian's report. The candlelight flickered on his desk, casting shadows across the room. His exhaustion was catching up to him after a long day of drilling new recruits, yet here he was dealing with another problem. His jaw tightened as he flipped through the pages, scanning the details of the merchants' smuggling operation.
"These damn merchants…" he muttered, exhaling sharply. The whole town was working tirelessly blacksmiths forging weapons, guards training to strengthen security, and workers maintaining order in the market. Yet, these greedy fools had nothing better to do than disrupt everything for the sake of profit.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. One of his subordinates stepped inside, standing at attention. "Sir, Lady Vivian has issued an order. We are to arrest all the merchants involved in the smuggling."
Rendon let out a tired chuckle. "Hah. She's quick, as expected." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his sore muscles. "Gather the men. I want them apprehended before dawn. Make sure it's done quietly we don't need a scene."
"Yes, sir." The subordinate saluted before quickly leaving the room.
Rendon sighed and glanced at the piles of documents still waiting for his attention. His workload never seemed to lessen. He had been dealing with recruits all day, ensuring they were disciplined enough to serve. Now, instead of resting, he had to handle these selfish merchants.
With one last glance at the report, he closed the folder and stood up. He wouldn't go personally he had more important matters to handle but his men were more than capable. Instead, he made his way to the station, his boots echoing through the quiet corridors. There, he would wait for their return, using the time to go through the latest updates on town affairs.
Sitting down at his desk, he picked up another report and sighed. "Trouble never ends in this town," he murmured before turning his focus to his work, waiting for news of the arrests to arrive.
Inside a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of town, a group of merchants gathered around a wooden table, their faces twisted in frustration. The flickering light from the oil lamps cast long shadows across the room, mirroring their growing resentment.
"This is outrageous!" One of them, a burly man named Gerold, slammed his fist on the table. "Ever since that damned game was released, our businesses have suffered. The shops that got permits to sell it are raking in profits, while the rest of us are left to rot!"
A wiry, sharp-eyed merchant named Clive sneered. "That witch Vivian did this on purpose. She played favorites, gave permits only to those who kissed her boots, and left the rest of us to starve."
Murmurs of agreement spread through the room. Another merchant, a middle-aged woman named Lorna, wrung her hands. "It's not just the game! Customers think the shops selling it are more capable than ours. We've lost not just potential profits from the game, but also our regular business! My store barely had any foot traffic this week."
Gerold gritted his teeth. "If we don't act now, we'll be crushed. We need to reclaim what we've lost. If we can't sell the game here, we'll take it elsewhere. Other towns will pay a fortune for it."
Clive smirked, arms crossed. "That's why we're doing this. We buy the games en masse, smuggle them out of here, and sell them at a higher price. We make a profit, and Vivian's so-called system crumbles."
A man in the corner spat on the ground. "I say we do more than just smuggle. We spread the word—Vivian isn't a fair leader. She's a cold-hearted bitch who only looks after her own interests."
Lorna nodded vehemently. "That's right! She thinks she can control the market like a queen on a throne. But she's nothing but a tyrant in a dress."
The merchants' anger reached a boiling point, their voices rising in a chorus of complaints and insults. Some cursed Vivian's name outright, while others fantasized about ways to get back at her.
Just then, a younger merchant, clearly uneasy, hesitated before speaking. "But… isn't this risky? What if we get caught?"
Gerold scoffed. "Caught? By who? The guards are too busy training new recruits. No one cares about a few crates leaving town in the dead of night."
Clive chuckled. "Exactly. We've already paid off a few transporters to move the goods quietly. By the time anyone notices, we'll be far from here with our profits secured."
Confidence swelled in the room, and their bitter resentment solidified into a plan. They had been cast aside, but they wouldn't sit idly by. Tonight, they would take back what they deserved.