-Eastern Port city of Narwell, capital of the vassal state of Silias, year 1396 on the Unified Herelin Calendar-

"Your father is dead."

No four words could bear more grievous tidings as these could. Borne on the light mahogany of parchment, and sealed for eternity in obsidian ink, the heading began what was the eulogy of one Milvelt Delark. Attached, as if an afterthought by the writers of the document, was his will and last testament, or what was supposed as one. Its contents listed his only son Zane as the inheritor of the single entry listed within the memorandum, as notarized by close friends who bore witness to the decedent's last moments.

All that was left behind for the inheritor was an oddity shop, located in the Thessolian Empire's capital city of Pirsk.

"And that's... all?"

The crash of a fist upon wood echoed in the small room. A man, tears streaming down his face, crumpled the document in his hands, throwing it into a nearby fireplace upon reading its contents. Once the lump in his throat thoroughly engorged itself from grief, he slumped into a chair adjacent to the table he had abused only moments before.

"That's all? Did he have nothing to say to me!"

A woman, who stood some distance away, presumably to give him time to himself, rushed to his side and clutched his arm as she shared in his grief. Though not of remarkable beauty, perhaps dimmed from the lengthy scar laid from the peak of her forehead to her right ear, she possessed a demure charm.

"Zane... I'm sorry..."

"Eight years. It was eight years ago... it took a lot to convince him that I could make it as a merchant. He laughed at me, you know? Said I couldn't do it. I hated him for that."

Once more, a fist thudded onto the tabletop; it was feeble this time, as though the energy intended never made it in time for the blow.

"But look, father... I did what you said I couldn't, but... why couldn't you have waited for me to tell you? You even had a grandchild waiting for you..."

The flicker of a nearby candle darkened the rivulets that ran down their faces.

"I can only think of one thing to do. The shop should be auctioned. It's impossible to sustain it now, not with my ties here. It's on a good plot, so I'm sure many of my father's competitors would be more than willing to purchase it."

His wife's grip on his arm tightened, "But you told me it was his life's work, wasn't it? Should you give it away so easily?"

Zane grimaced. His wife's words rang so true, that it was hard for him to admit. He wouldn't have thought her capable of them before they met. But now...

The distraught merchant wiped his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I know... you're right, Milina, but how can I afford it? What we have now is barely enough to keep my ties with the docks and seamen here strong. Even if I dismantled the company I've worked so hard to build here, it would barely be enough to maintain it for a year."

His head sunk into his hands, their long fingers combed through his tousled brown hair.

"If only I had the capital, I could rebuild it from scratch... unless."

An epiphany seemed to hit Zane.

"Unless I can acquire a loan..."

Milina's teary face darkened with dread, "Dear, you aren't thinking of going to 'them', are you?"

Zane reached his hand over to caress her cheek, "There's nothing to worry about. I've dealt with them plenty of times. Over the years, I think I've built some trust with Lorel." He stood from his chair, his jaw set resolutely in stark contrast against the wet traces on his face, "With a little bit of work, the shop would pay the loan off in less than a year. And with a hefty chunk of interest, he couldn't refuse!"

"I think you should reconsider..."

But it was no use. Milina knew how her husband would get when his mind was set on one of his plans. His determination to see his dreams come true sometimes worried her with how fervently he worked toward them.

They were just rumors shared among the women of their district, but the mere possibility of them being true was what made Lorel and his men so terrifying.

On the outside, Lore's group was the largest lender in the Narwell naval district. Under this identity, they took and managed loan requests for traders and noteworthy ship captains in exchange for collateral of goods upfront, or a certain cut of any profits made on a voyage. The company reaped massive profits just through their interest alone, which was hefty enough for most prospective loan-takers to back away.

The few success stories the Lorel Group helped create painted them as the Saints of Narwell. But it wasn't these good deeds that brought rumors about. Tales of failed business owners who sought to stave off bankruptcy mysteriously disappeared several years after signing Lorel's contract.

"I can't let my father's work rot away. This is the least I can do..."

All Milina could do was smile worriedly at Zane's determination. She could only hope that determination wouldn't lose her a husband.