The town of Oakhes was a permanent state of tension, a sprawling, fortified settlement nestled in the far north-eastern reaches of the Blackwood territory. Its position was both its fortune and its curse, serving as one of the commercial checkpoints in the Blackwood region where the territory of Aerthos met the northern fringe of Nordhelm and the western routes leading toward Kemet. Here, the financial skirmish between the continents two most powerful economic forces was fought daily in currency stalls and customs houses.
Lord Alaric, her husband, was currently in the capital, Aethelburg, attending a crucial meeting of the Privy Council regarding the King's declining health and the proposed Monetary Stabilization Act. Lady Elara Dukker had to travel all around the region in order to deal with any issues that required the attention of the Lord it had taken weeks since thier land was so big and the issue arising were trivial but still demanded attention. She had recently traveled north to contain the latest outbreak of commercial unrest. Her son, Elias, was safe back in Blackhaven under the watchful, capable eye of her niece, Aina. Elara trusted Aina implicitly; the girl's cold intelligence and maturity far exceeded her years, ensuring Elias's safety and instruction. Besides, Roric would be there everyday to train him and the gaurds were capable so all should be fine. Still, she worried.
Elara received the two delegations in the Town Hall. The room where the meeting was to be held was simple, dominated by a heavy oak table and lit by high windows that provided a clear view of the crowded, restive market square outside.
Elara sat at the head of the table. She wore a dress of severe, dark red silk,its material signifying the vast, quiet wealth of House Dukker and devoid of unnecessary ornamentation aside her earings, a silver necklace around her neck and a ring on her left hand. Her posture was perfect, her back ruler-straight, and her golden-blonde hair was pinned up in a simple but imposing style, framing a face that was beautiful but utterly unreadable. She was flanked by four of her personal knights. They wore the heavy, polished steel of the Blackwood guard, their presence silent but imposing, their hands resting near the hilts of their swords—a reminder that this was ultimately a meeting governed by the laws of House Dukker, not market consensus. The nervous Mayor of Oakhes a small, balding man named Varen, stood in the corner, twisting a cap in his hands.
Sitting on either side of her were the two representatives.
From the Trade Union, there was Master Gerold Rustmark, a man built like a barrel, dressed in meticulously tailored crimson velvet—the official color of the Union. His demeanor was loud and insistent, his confidence stemming from the Union's status as the official issuer of the Crown Solar in Aerthos and Kemet. He had brought two junior clerks whose sole job appeared to be unrolling and pointing at endless, intricate financial ledgers.
Opposite him sat Mistress Sybil Weft, representing the Free Guild. She was lean and sharp young lady, dressed in practical, forest-green leather and wool with rimmless round glasses, favoring the utilitarian style often seen in Nordhelm . Her movements were economical, and her eyes, though currently cool, held the calculating fire of a merchant who knew the true value of every Standard Pound. She had only one assistant, a silent, powerfully built man whose hand never left the heavy, solid Veridian Mark coin he perpetually toyed with.
The debate had been raging for nearly an hour when Elara signaled for a halt with a minimal lift of her hand. The two delegates immediately fell silent, not out of respect, but due to the cold authority that radiated from the Lady.
"We will cease the discussion of policy and return to the issue of shipment," Elara stated, her voice low but carrying absolute command.
"Master Gerold, state the Trade Union's current position on the price of the processed Blackwood lumber leaving our territory."
Gerold cleared his throat, leaning forward, trying to project conviction.
"Lady Dukker, our position is clear and aligns with the sovereign interests of the Crown. We must price the lumber in the Crown Solar. Due to the Free Guild's artificial inflation of Nordhelm imports, the resulting volatility means that when our merchants sell our local goods to acquire the necessary Standard Pounds for international trade, they are forced to pay the conversion tax. The value lost in that exchange must be recuperated. Therefore, we insist that the baseline price of a lumber unit be increased by forty Silver Crowns."
Sybill let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound like a small bone snapping.
"Forty Silver Crowns? That is simply passing the cost of your Union's self-serving protectionism onto the buyer, Lady Dukker! The Free Guild has already demonstrated that the tax of one Silver Crown per transaction—a calculated levy to enforce loyalty to a weaker currency—is meaningless in the grand scheme of international trade because we simply raised the value of our exports. Our Standard Pound remains the currency of choice for large trade."
She turned her cold gaze to Elara.
"We will not pay an inflated Solar price. We offer thirty Standard Marks per unit for your High-GradeFlowstone—a fair price that reflects the currency's true value. Furthermore, we must insist that all duties paid to House Dukker for checkpoint usage be accepted solely in the Standard Pound, as it is the most stable and reliable currency for long-term agreements."
Gerold slammed his fist on the table, making the ledgers jump.
"That is a blatant attempt to erode the authority of the Crown Solar on Aerthos territory! The Trade Union will never allow this encroachment! It is a direct challenge to financial stability!"
"Stability that is rapidly dissolving under your own heavy-handed policies!" Sybill countered, her voice rising in pitch.
"You cannot suppress the market with taxes you barrel shaped dolt!"
"What did you say to me you four eyed ignoramus!"
"There you go again, using words you dont understand."
''Ah, what do you take me for?''
''I See you have proble,s with your memory as well."
" Why you..."
The two began to shout over one another, arguing furiously about the exchange rate while making jabs at each other—the current reality of One Standard Pound being worth five Crown Solars—and the crippling effect of the mandated conversion tax on the merchants who used the town of Oakhes as a vital trade link between the three nations. The Mayor, Varen Girthide, flinched visibly as the decibel level increased.
Elara watched them for several silent seconds. She did not raise her voice, nor did she need to. She simply placed the palms of her hands flat on the oak table and leaned forward slightly. The movement was small, but it was enough. The sheer stillness of her attention forced the two shouting delegates to falter and silence themselves.
"Enough," Elara commanded.
"Your financial war is an external matter of policy between two governing bodies. My concern is the stability of Blackwood and the continued safety of my people and my territory's income and by extension, the nation."
She spoke with the cool, analytical precision of a scholar dismantling a faulty theory.
"You are both correct. Mister Rustmark, your Union's tax punishes the common trader and merchant, causing the riots in the square outside. Mistress Weft, your Guild's insistence on demanding duties only in the Standard Pound is a direct political provocation against the established currency of Aerthos sovereignty. Both actions destabilize the equilibrium that currently keeps your rivalry a financial one, rather than a military one. And both actions directly impact the stability of this checkpoint—the lifeblood of my region's export revenue."
She looked directly at Gerold.
"Blackwood will not raise the base price of its lumber or Flowstone to compensate for your tax. That violates the compromise agreement you made to reduce prices when services are increased, and it punishes merchants who are simply trying to move necessary goods."
Then she turned to Sybill.
"House Dukker will not accept the Standard Pound for duties or taxes. Our loyalty is to the Crown Solar, the currency of our nation."
Both delegates opened their mouths to object, but Elara cut them off with a look that dared them to challenge her.
"Therefore," she concluded, asserting the neutral, governing authority of House Dukker, "we are eliminating the volatile element entirely for our own exports. Blackwood will temporarily sell all processed lumber and Flowstone to merchants passing through Oakhes at a fixed, Flow-weighted unit price."
She tapped the table once, making her proposal firm.
"The price of one unit of High-Grade Blackwood lumber will be defined by its cost in raw production materials, its inherent energy content, and a twenty percent profit margin, regardless of the currency of payment. The price is fixed. You may pay that fixed cost in either the Crown Solar or the Standard Pound based on the official, pre-existing five-to-one conversion rate, with no added surcharges or conversion fees from my customs house."
She continued before either could interrupt.
"This fixed price will remain in effect for three lunar cycles until my husband returns from the Council meeting and makes changes or maintains this decision depending on if the Monetary Stabilization Act is passed or not. This guarantees a stable income for Blackwood regardless of the market fluctuations created andit adheres to the pre-agreed conversion rate, ensuring that the common merchants utilizing this route can accurately price their goods."
Gerold frowned, his face a picture of reluctant frustration.
"Lady Dukker, that… that removes our ability to compensate for the conversion tax entirely."
"Precisely," Elara said simply.
Sybill spoke slowly, her mind already calculating the advantage.
"But it also forces the Trade Union to accept payment in the Pound at the official rate, which is an implicit victory for us in terms of valuing our currency."
"You accept the Solar," Elara corrected, her expression cold.
"And you accept the fixed price. Both parties must adhere to the official conversion rate for Blackwood exports until you resolve your financial war in Aethelburg. This meeting is concluded."
The two delegates looked at each other, then back at the unyielding figure of Elara. Her solution was a ruthless, politically neutral defense of her own region's interests, forcing both parties into a temporary, begrudging truce at her border. They whispered together for a few moments then nodded in unison.They rose bowed stiffly, gathered their ledgers, and left the room without another word to each other.
Elara watched the door close, then let out a slow, deep sigh, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. She ran a weary hand over her hair.
The Mayor, Varen, stepped forward, his eyes wide with admiration.
"Lady Dukker, that was… brilliant. You brought order to chaos. I did'nt Know how i was going to deal with the situation."
"Its only temporary Varen." Elara corrected, her voice now softer, weighted with a personal exhaustion that had nothing to do with policy. She glanced out the narrow window, the setting sun casting long, orange shadows across the dusty square.
"They will be back once the times up with more schemes. They always return, seeking the next angle, the next weakness."
She sighed again. She missed Alaric—his pragmatic strength. Ruling over a whole region was a onerous affair but it was her duty as a wife to support him. Still, she missed the comfortable solitude of the Keep.
And Elias…
She wondered if the child was being pushed too hard by Roric's training, or if Aina had managed to keep him focused on his studies. She knew that he, too, was a problem of immense complexity, something.....dark seemed to hang over him, something she couldn't quite place her finger on. She only hoped that Aina's presence was enough to guide his brilliance away from the darkness that always threatened to consume him.