The Old City

0.46: Collusion

Whatever mason carved such stones, whatever engineer designed such a monument, whatever sorcerer imbued it with such power, they wanted the Rings of Soran to last. These relics harken to an Age that no longer exists. An Age that is desperate to return.

Why did they forge this testament to class?

The Office of the Treasurer, Third Ring of Soran.

"This situation in the First Ring does not concern you?" Patroklos leaned forward. He carved into his rare steak and sunk his teeth into a large slice. Delicious fat and salt burst in his mouth and a contented smile spread across his face, which vanished when he looked at his companion's face.

"They were the actions of mere rogues. The Enforcers shall manage without our interference."

Rokas Geer was a wide and obnoxious young man. He had ordered dessert first and scooped an overlarge bite of orange cake into his mouth. At least he had the manners not to speak with his mouth full. He had just become Commissioner of the Enforcers and his father, Senator Limadiol Geer, had requested periodic meetings with the Treasury to ensure he became a well-educated Senator as well. The young man knew enough about Soran's economy, but he knew little of the world and less about men. Patroklos had much to teach him.

The typical sheltered child.

"This was the second incident in as many weeks – and certainly the more embarrassing one. Do you know why the Grand Bazaar is so important?"

Rokas shrugged. "It generates forty per cent of the city's taxes. Save the harbor, it is the only critical area of the First Ring."

Patroklos slapped Rokas's hand away from the honey as he reached for another scoop and shook his head. "The Bazaar is the most public symbol of Soran. Our Rings protect us, but the Bazaar projects confidence to the world that we can survive in the face of Magnar, that merchants of every nation can – and should – trade here. The Bazaar tells every person on the Continent that the Kait has value, that they can use it instead of the Ilys. If they lose trust in the Bazaar, they lose trust in our currency. If they lose trust in our currency, then Soran can no longer function independently."

Rokas paused, realizing he was being reprimanded but not willing to concede the point. "The Kait will always be the preferred currency on the Continent because Magnar fluctuates the value of the Ilys every few decades. No one knows what it may be worth in the future. If their treasury cannot control their hegemon, they will continue to flounder."

Patroklos sighed, recognizing the youthful arrogance in Rokas's response and that he would not convince him to change his opinion.

"I studied with Galrakis Ketan. He is the most brilliant economist I have ever seen, and if there any human on the planet who could resolve Magnar's incompetent monetary policy, it is he. More than that, Rokas, I am our Treasury. I say it is a problem. I managed the central bank through the Seventh Magnar War and I will not have our financial victories squandered because some peasant terrorists decided to disrupt our domestic trading center.

"You will send men into the First Ring and root out the violators. I do not care about your methods, only your results. They must not be permitted to do this again. Strike such fear into their hearts that they never think to riot in our public places again."

Rokas placed his spoon down as his main course arrived, but he did not look at the food like he normally would. His eyes were set blankly upon the middle of the table and a hot sweat broke upon his brow. He was frozen; the words of rebuttal or defense would not come. As the silence grew long, he begged Patroklos to break it.

The Secretary did eventually sigh and after enjoying another bite of his steak, he looked upon Rokas with even greater disdain. "I would not leave you to this task sans leads. We know who led the attack on the Bazaar, which gives us a connection to those who smuggled Magnarians into the city: It was the organization known as Black Phoenix.