Corco could already smell, and hear, the bullshit long before he reached the door to the Great Hall of the Merchant's Union.

“So where's this great seer now? Where is his respect towards this hallowed hall? Maybe the charlatan has seen that the merchants of Etra will no longer fall for his scams and the coward has decided to run before he is unmasked?”

Corco knew the voice well and, with a thought back to the man's habitual, shameless sneer, he considered just turning around and leaving them to their own devices. Still, he had to do what had to be done, even if he was forced to save a few assholes in the process.

“No entry!” the militiaman said with pretended strength in his voice, flustered at Corco's aggressive posture and swift movements. Clearly, the guard of the merchant's union wasn't a cultivator, but instead a simple man recruited form one of the city's craftsmen's guilds. Although Etra, as a free city, didn't have any knights at their disposal, at least they could have splurged on a few decent mercenaries.

“If nothing else, we should consider the offer that was made by Master Fastgrade. It is free ware, after all.” Another unpleasant voice reached Corco from beyond the door, but at least this one didn't make his blood boil over.

As an answer to the guard's order, the prince shoved the man to the side. Flustered as he was, the militiaman didn't even have the presence of mind to draw his cheap sword. With this level of ability, trying to hold off the Bornish armies was laughable. It would be up to the Fastgrade company to organize the mob and give them a fighting chance.

The cheap wooden door blew open from Corco's kick and revealed the self-possessed old men inside. With the densely packed, high-backrest chairs, set up in two opposing rows, the arrangement reminded Corco a bit of a claustrophobic version of the British parliament in his memories. The Great Hall of Etra was, on any other day, a place of arbitration between merchant houses. Today however, all members of Etra's union had collected here to debate on the upcoming crisis. Rather, they should have talked about the incoming Bornish attack, but were instead stuck on trying to denounce their newest member. All of that had been interrupted by the denounced's, by Corco's entry. Standing in the center, between the rows of seats, a large man with a tiny nose turned to face Corco, now that his accusations had been interrupted.

“Who're you calling a coward, Trellban?”

Though he was surprised at first, Trellban's dull look of confusion soon made way for his faked, off-brand anger.

“Oh, it seems the great seer has found his heart at last. I wonder, why else but for fear would the seer of the lordships appear only now, when he was the one to call the meeting in the first place?”

“Traffic jam,” Corco answered in a dry tone.

“Huh?”

“I had some stuff to get first, to make sure this meeting doesn't get out of hand. There's too much at stake to risk the bullshitters getting away.” Rather than explain his own personal joke, Corco pointed to Brym, who had silently followed the prince along on his storm of the Great Hall. Now called upon, the youngster raised the heavy leather bag he held in his hand, filled with wonders.

“...in that case, I believe we should continue.” A voice came from the left. Corco looked up ahead and found Devaerter sit among his peers, giving the prince a cold look. Since Atau's last journey on a Devaerter ship, the relationship between Fastgrade and Devaerter had considerably soured. Not only had they failed to deliver the goods and return the money, no. By the time the ship had made its way back to Etra, it was practically totaled. However, trouble over the damages was the least of their concerns.

In the end, all those problems didn't even begin to match up to the dead captain Rickert, a man who had been close to Devaerter for many years. Even though reports from the crew showed that Atau couldn't be faulted for the incident, Devaerter never seemed fully convinced. In the end, they came to an agreement and smoothed out their differences, but for now, their relationship was strictly limited to business, with the old merchant trying visibly to distance himself from the Fastgrade people. Corco could feel their space inside Etra shrinking, as more and more merchants decided to stand against them. Still, at least the old Arcavists would stand on his side, at least so long as the Reverers inside the Hall remained the threat to Etra's order they had been in recent months.

“I agree with the speaker. Let us answer the relevant questions, one at a time, now that all parties are present,” Trellban added. Meanwhile, Corco took his seat within the assembly, with Brym taking a stand by his side. After his first few meetings, the prince had mostly stayed away from the dry discussions. He really couldn't stand the greed and pettiness the merchants would show towards each other, and even more so towards outsiders. This sort of morally bankrupt behavior was something he was determined to root out. Let the values of enlightenment rule over the countries of the earth, that was his noble goal. Unaware of the grand ambitions before him, Trellban continued with his selfish speech, fueled by greed.

“Now then, if the speaker may. Before all else, I believe it would be dangerous to let these weapons inside our fair city, even more so weapons which are so firmly owned by a single personage, namely Master Fastgrade, as he is suspect already. A servant to the northern lordships, he could turn against the people of Etra with but a simple order from his northern lords.”

Loud complaints rose from the left, from the Arcavists around Devaerter, while Trellban's Reverers clapped in accord.

“You're saying that with all those guns I'd try to, what, conquer the city?” slack-jawed, Corco stared at Trellban. He had been prepared for a lot, but he really couldn't believe the slimeball's newest achievements in nonsense.

“What else could all those weapons be for, enough to arm a private force?”

“The guns are to protect the city and they're not going to my people alone. We've brought over a hundred, so where are all these loyal soldiers gonna come from? I don't even have that many permanent workers, even if I include all the chicken-breasted accountants who couldn't tell apart a barrel from a butt. The guns are to arm the guild militias of Etra, to help them defend our city in time of crisis.”

Trellban only scoffed in response, arms crossed. Consequences be damned, Corco really felt like slapping that smirk off of his punchable face.

“The brave men of Etra need no improper weapons for defense! We were more than capable of defense ten years ago, so what would have changed now? Moreover, any weapons brought into Etra would break the agreement and provoke Borna. Clearly, the traitor intends to get the gunpowder into our city to start some fires, consequences be damned. Maybe this way, he can force us to pay for his ludicrous fire fighters.”

Under loud clatter, Corco's seat slid back as he got up with force. He ignored the worried look of Brym to his side and marched straight to the sleazy merchant.

“Did you just call me a traitor, you greedy piece of shit?” His lower jaw jutted out, the prince stomped towards the retreating merchant, eyes fixed on his target alone. From the edge of the room arrived another guard, in time to stop the young union member from harming his colleague. However, Corco wouldn't play along. As the militiaman came to push Corco back by the chest, the crown prince only needed one step to the side to decide the fight. With a quick grab onto the so-called guard's poorly fitted gambeson, Corco pulled the man's torso over his own leg and forced the guard to the ground. To the deafening silence of the audience, Corco looked up from his victim and gazed over to his accuser.

“'Brave men of Etra', was it? Look at their equipment, at their shape. They're fucking useless, nowhere near the men who, barely, defended this city in the past. Not to mention, back then, Etra had the full support of the free cities of the south. With your Reverer bullshit causing in-fights everywhere, everyone else is busy. We'll have to defend us ourselves this time.”

As Corco began to march again, Trellban retreated further. In the end, his careless feet collided with an empty chair and, under great clatter, both man and seat fell to the lavish marble floor.

“You speak of 'us', yet you are nothing but an outsider! You cannot pretend to be one of us, traitor!” the Reverer squeaked as he looked back up to Corco.

“You're right,” the outsider replied with a confident grin. “Unlike you, I wasn't born here. You know what makes you a citizen of Etra? Random chance, a throw of the dice. You did nothing to join the city, your mother did all the work. I'm different. I've traveled all across Arcavia, seen the halls of kings and queens. Among all the great places, all the marvels I have seen along my journey, I've chosen this one, and no other, to call home. Now tell me, which one of us will stand for the city when it counts? You accused me of profiteering? Well, I'll tell you that I won't charge anyone for those guns, or for the food that's still waiting outside the walls with them. I won't even charge for fire safety as long as a siege is going. Wanna know why? It's because I have chosen Etra as my home, as the place I will defend with my life.”

From behind him, from the stands, he could hear intermittent claps, which soon turned into roaring applause. It felt as if he was on the cusp of winning over the crowd, as if he would become a proper part of the union again. However, the prince was still focused on the floored bullshitter right before him. From his rolling eyes, he could see that Trellban hadn't given up yet. The slime ball was still looking for a way out.

“So what, talking big is easy. Who knows if there even will be a siege. There is no indication that the Bornish will attack anyone, let alone us. They are adherents to the true faith, even their king is a converted Reverer now! They have no reason to attack a pious city!”

With a harmless smile, Corco stared down onto the sunken puddle of slime. Unlike the ridiculous claim of a coup, the prince had expected the faith argument, so he had prepared in advance.

“Brym!” he shouted across the room.

“Here, big bro.” A startled voice answered right by his side. Corco turned to see that the young merchant had already left his seat and was now holding the opened bag towards Corco's face, for him to retrieve the contents. Unperturbed by his own error, the merchant prince grabbed inside and, with a metallic clang, threw exhibit A to Trellban's feet.

“What is this?” the slimy merchant asked as he picked up the iron helmet with the flat top.

“You were around ten years ago, oh great son of Etra, so you should remember this shape well. It's a Bornish helmet. On the way back from Ganea, my convoy was attacked by a Bornish scouting unit, ready to intercept the city's supplies. They were supported by traitors within, Reverers who had been bought over by the bornish duke Herak.”

Corco wouldn't argue over whether or not Etra was a Reverer city. That path would only lead to more pointless arguments. Instead, he focused on facts.

“Pah!” Trellban spat on the ground next to him. “That helmet could come from anywhere. Telling tall tales is easy enough. Why would the Bornish attack their brethren in faith?”

Again, Corco reached inside his bag of many things for an answer. This time, he retrieved a rolled up scroll of paper and threw it to the merchant's feet, just the same as the helmet. “Here's proof. A retelling of the happenings around Ganea, signed by every man present. If you still don't believe me, you can ask them yourselves. Many of those carriers and day workers have done various jobs for various people in this room. You know as well as me that they're not all related to me. And stop trying to make this about faith. It's not. As always, it's just simple greed. The Bornish were Arcavists like Etra when they attacked back then, so why would they change tune now?”

Defeated, the slime sank even deeper into the cold marbled floor. He wouldn't even pick up the letter to check the proof. There was no need. Corco believed the debate over, but another merchant realized the problem with his reasoning.

“Wait, if the caravan has been denied entry, then how did the helmet and letter even make their way inside?” The shocked voice from the ranks in his front was answered by Corco's confident grin.

“It's smuggled, of course. So much for the great guards of Etra. Getting something illegal inside the walls is easy, as many in this room should well know. That's the problem with a city of merchants, everything's for sale. Even when we carried supplies, the Bornish got our exact cargo and route from one of our own, a true son of the city, who sold us out for a handful of coins. Now I don't know what plans you have, or how many of you brave Reverers have readied their ships to flee once the enemy appears, or how many have struck backroom deals with the Bornish. Frankly, I don't care.

“This is my home. I have chosen it as mine and I won't hand it over to some greedy bastards, inside or out! No matter what, you can't prevent those guns from entering Etra. And once the guns are inside, you won't get the gates to open in secret when the Bornish come. So you best make a wise choice today, or those guns will aim inside before they aim over the walls. I can tolerate much, but I will not allow traitors, no matter what. Etra is my home, and I will defend it to the last, with or against you.”

Corco's powerful baritone lingered throughout the chamber, without reply. The prince's look glanced past the rows of merchants one last time, before he turned and left the hall, unopposed. He knew they would make the right decision today. Their lives depended on it.