The piercing ring of metal on metal echoed through the wide warehouse. Artisans and metalworkers in this particular facility on the north side of the city worked to produce bronze for the guild. The copper was mined here on the island, just a single day’s walk south of the city and the cassiterite was shipped in from the nearby cities of Jurang and Choke, from the larger island east of Casoya. Both cities competed to sell their vast wealth of these gemstones to the Artisan’s Guild and as such, underbid each other for the richness that came with the business. The cassiterite was then smelted down and the pure tin was extracted. A ton of tin, when mixed with appropriate amount of copper, could be used to produce nearly ten tons of bronze. After being poured into a mold and cooled, the end product could be shipped back to both cities at a marked-up price. Even when factoring in the loss of one out of every hundred ships to storms or raiders, the wealth pouring in was astronomical.

Patzau Mellen Minoc walked through the open warehouse where the already forged bronze was sharpened, touched up, and packaged for travel. Around them stood crates of sickles, knives, axes, spear heads, and short swords. The production of tools and weapons in particular made the Casoyan industry lucrative to nearly all trading partners. People know of Casoya for the rich and fancy items sold in the auction house, but so much of the gold that enters this city comes from the creation and sale of everyday blades and weapons.

Mellen had a plethora of, what he referred to as, eyes. Watchers who monitored all incoming ships and their place of origin. There were men and women in his employ who could tell a Careyago caravel from a Miisoso galley from just a blurry outline on the distant horizon. What had started as a system to keep track of ships and business partners had, quite by accident, become a vast network of informants spread across the city. And as information pooled, those who had other information and gossip of their own suddenly found a place where it could be added to the anonymous pool, and paid for in coin.

Thus, it came to be that Patzau Mellen Minoc found himself with a more robust and reliable spy organization that he ever planned or wished for. All by accident. And the things Mellen learned about his fellow Casoyans was every bit as heartwarming, disturbing, wonderful and awful as one could imagine. It was like sitting at the head of his guild, multiplied by a magnitude. Murderers, cheats, thieves, adulterers, drunks; Mellen heard it all. Most of it rumours only, but plenty of it reliable. It had its uses, undeniably, but it was also a burden. One Patzau Minoc took upon himself, and only himself to carry. For the good of the guilds and the good of the city, he told himself. Only for the good of Caso.

A group of guildsmen pushing a heavy tool cart lumbered by and Patzau Minoc to wait. Hughir, the warehouse manager, and Kuta waited by his side. Mellen believed in a decentralized operation of his guild. When he had taken control after Patzau Onwii had died, the guild was focused on producing to a level of specificity that was stagnating creativity and success. He believed in a decentralized approach where control was given back to the artisans, smiths, and enterprises. Those who pay their dues should also have the freedom to pave their futures. But with the Guild as the beating heart, opportunities for one can be an opportunity for all. Guild negotiators to ensure fair wages and to connect buyers and sellers. Guild contracts to facilitate collaboration and support apprenticeships. In Minoc’s system, everyone reaps the benefits and everyone pays their dues.

“We have six hundred more blades on the way, ready to be sharpened and shipped” Hughir said.  

“Excellent. And where is this shipment headed?” Patzau Minoc asked, picking up a short single-handed sword from a crate. The sword was wider near the point and tapered towards the handle. The guard was short and unornamented. A simple wooden handle with a cloth wrap rounded out the sword’s grip. The blade shone as he turned it over in his hands. He resisted the urge to swing it, knowing he didn’t know how to. He pressed the blades edge to his thumb but its unsharpened bite didn’t break his skin.

“This batch is headed to the High Prince of Asere” Hughir said, eager for approval.

“Asere” Patzau Minoc repeated. “I must ask Patzau Murocil if she knows what the High Prince might want two thousand new blades for.”

“My guess, as always, is an army” Hughir said.

Patzau Minoc managed not to make a face. You’re as dull as these blades, Hughir. It’s always an army. I want to know what he plans to do with the army, you idiot. “Of course…” was all he said in response. He handed the blade to Kuta. “What do you think?” Patzau Minoc asked. She would know best.

Kuta turned the blade over in her hand once and then twice, inspecting the quality of the metal. In a wave, the musty smell of Aginjigaade sorcery emanated from where she stood and it pinched his nostrils with its earthy metallic scent. “The quality of this blade is fine. Adding more tin would create a more ridged structure. There are only minor impurities.” She held the blade in her hand and chopped lazily towards the crate the sword had been taken from. It hit the wooden box with a dull thud and she pulled back the sword, inspecting the edge.

“As I said, the blade is not yet sharp” Hughir repeated.

Another surge of sorcery emanated from Kuta as she ran her fingers along the edge of the sword. Patzau Minoc watched expectantly. On him, the bronze sword looked like a toy. But to her, it seemed the right size for her smaller frame. Kuta twisted the blade in her hand and then brought it down on the box with only a little more power than she had during her first swing. The sword bit into the wooden crate and sunk deep. Hughir stood wide-eyed.

“When sharpened, these blades will be more than sufficient” Kuta said. “The High Prince should be pleased, especially when considering the quantity.” She passed the blade back to Hughir.

“Thank you, Master Aginjigaade” he said, receiving the weapon. He inspected the newly honed edge and brought up his finger to the blade to inspect it. The edge she had created was so fine that it seemed impossible to see with human eyes. He ran his thumb across the edge with the softest touch and it sliced clean through his calloused skin. Bright red blood welled from the shallow gash on the flat of his thumb and he pulled away instinctively, bringing it up to his mouth to suck on it.

“Good work Hughir. I know that several forges and smiths have been working hard on this order. Please inform me if any of them produce anything you might consider… below guild quality.”

“Yes, Patzau” Hughir said.

Patzau Minoc and Kuta left the warehouse together, Minoc eager to move on to the next item on the itinerary. Kuta followed, ever close and ever quiet. They were an odd duo, the giant man with the giant personality and his small and quiet Aginjigaade assistant. It had been a stroke of luck that had brought them together. It was rare for Aginjigaade to hail from the mountain tribes and villages deep inland. Outside of Caso and especially in the mountain villages, being born an Aginjigaade was considered a death sentence. A curse, not a gift. Aginjigaade from the city were sent out regularly to search for children born with the gift, but Mellen couldn’t remember a single successful occasion in his lifetime.

And so, when Kuta appeared in Caso, barely a woman and gifted like no other untrained Aginjigaade before her, Mellen became intrigued. When it was revealed that her affinity was to spirits of earthen metals, he became invested. And when the scramble to add her to each guilds’ ranks had swung into motion, he had already ensured she would choose the Artisan’s Guild. And now she stood at his side, because he knew exactly what a girl like her wanted. It was something none of the other guilds would offer: opportunity. He would pay her well, like they all would, but he promised her the opportunity to listen and learn. To lead and decide for herself what to make of her life. It was what most of the poor kids that came down from the mountains sought.

It had taken a long time to really earn her trust. She was reserved. Not just with her comments. He watched her sometimes. He could see the odd whisp of a spirit. They lingered in his peripherals and disappeared into thin air when he approached. Flame spirits dancing around a candle lights. Water spirits swimming just below the surface of the city’s canals. Wind spirits dancing through the air like leaves in the wind. But where he could see the occasional spirit, he knew that Kuta could sense them all. She had shared with him once how everywhere she looked; hundreds and hundreds of spirits of countless varieties made up the world around them. She seldom spoke about herself, but Minoc caught her attention snapping to odd places. Her awareness of the world around them was astounding.

“You’ve got something on your mind” Kuta said, as the two of them sat down on opposite sides of the palanquin that would take them to their next destination. “What are you thinking about?”

Patzau Minoc stared back at her for a moment. The silence between them was only broken by the even marching of the servants carrying the palanquin and the retinue of soldiers who led them through the city. He didn’t want to share that he had been thinking of her and her abilities. Part of him still feared the baseless notion that, through her sorcery, she could read his thoughts. He had to remind himself that it was childish to hold onto that fear. He deflected and instead said, “That Aginjigaade we met. The one you said was special. The one with those princes of Gaag.”

“What about him?” Kuta asked. “Do you want me to find out where he is?”

“No,” Mellen said, raising a hand. “There’s no need. They’ve been staying with Patzau Yohati. I know they’re still there.”

Kuta detected a hint of… something in his voice; unease or confusion. She couldn’t quite tell. “Is that a problem?” she asked, trying to discern more.

“A problem?” Mellen repeated. “No. Not a problem. I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect that Yohati would take them in. As far as I can tell, he’s been quite friendly with that ambassador to the Careyago Empire. Taking in these exiled princes of Gaag puts him at odds with her. They must have something he wants and I want to find out what it is. How long until I should expect a response from the Onerans?”

“The inquiries went out yesterday with a shipment of furniture. One was addressed to Lord Diam Anup and one to Lord Eli Cardim. Hopefully, with the right winds and willing responders, we receive an answer within two- or three-weeks time” Kuta answered.

Mellen only grunted an acknowledgement. With an unexpected jolt, the palanquin came to a stop and the servants carrying them halted. Mellen pulled the cover on his window. He peered out but couldn’t see discern why they had stopped.

“What’s going on?” Mellen barked. “I have an appointment to make.”

“Message for you, Patzau” one of the soldiers said. He slipped a wax tablet through the window and Patzau Minoc took the small thing in his large hands. Kuta watched on, curious. Mellen squinted, unable to read in the dim light and then held the tablet up to the window to read it better. The servants picked up the palanquin and continued onwards.

Mellen muttered to himself. Kuta looked at him. Her face asked the question and so he explained, “It’s a report from one of my eyes on the docks,” he said. “A new trade ship docked just before the big storm. They paid off the wharfinger to avoid the search and manifest.” Kuta looked at him with concern. “It’s more common than you might think” Mellen elaborated, “but its not commonly paid in brand new Careyago Gold coins.”

“What does that imply?” Kuta asked.

“It means that the Careyago are trying to sneak something into the city. Something or somebody.”

“What would they need to sneak into Caso?” Kuta asked.

“Nothing came off the ship” Mellen said, looking over the tablet for a second time. “Not yet anyway. That’s also strange.”

“What do you think they’re up to?”

“Impossible to know for sure” he answered. Mellen scratched his chin where stubble was already growing in. But I have my suspicions, he thought to himself.

Flights of doves scattered as Patzau Minoc’s palanquin moved south towards the fortress. The heavy sounds of spears, armour, and boots marching parted the crowds of people for the detail of soldiers leading the way. Parents held their children tighter, cats and dogs fled into alleyways, and carts moved aside to allow the procession to pass. It was still early by the time they crossed the city and reached Gorini Plaza at the base of the lonely fortress peak. All sixteen servants took up the mantle of carrying the heavy palanquin up the long and steep hill. It was inconvenient, having to make the trip all the way up to the fortress to meet with his fellow Patzau, but Mellen needed her support. The great effort made represented the significance of his need. Or so he hoped it would seem. Yanata was always fickle in nature.

The climb was long and uncomfortable, and Minoc hadn’t even taken any steps. As they reached the crest of the hill, Mellen exited the palanquin the stepped out into the hot sun already drenched in sweat. Kuta stood waiting for him, having elected to walk the steep road alongside the soldiers and servants. Why a person would willingly choose such a thing was beyond his comprehension.

The two of them stared forward at the ashy gray stone fortress. The structure was large and flat with angular stone walls built to make scaling the erection impossible. The gate house was the only distinct feature along the face, simply because it was the only part of the fortress to host real battlements. Between the steep cliff faces and this small section of walls, no person could enter the ancient Casoyan fortress from any point but this spot. It was impenetrable, but mostly it was an inconvenience. That was all Mellen could think about as he was led inside by an overly friendly gate officer, Kuta at his heels.

The pair were led past a maze of hallways. Passages and staircases seemed to disperse in chaotic directions. The narrow corridors were littered with unadorned brick archways and thin defensible windows. The whole complex was cobbled together over countless years spanning so far back that nobody remembered stories of its original construction. The fortress was simply atop the lonely peak, and as far as anyone could recall, it always had been. Mellen found the entire complex dusty and drab. They crossed an arched bridge that overlooked the city to the central keep, an entirely separate tower in the center of the fortress, and up to the second floor where they were directed into a room where Patzau Ashill and her commanding officers were seated around her desk in discussion. As they entered, the room went silent. All turned to stare at the intrusion. When the oversized Patzau Minoc wiggled his way through the small doorframe, Kuta at his side, the soldiers at the table rose and saluted.  

Mellen smiled. He liked soldiers. They were easy to understand and quick to submit to authority. Compared to these men and women, controlling his guildsmen was akin to directing fish. “At ease” Mellen boomed. He played up the imperiousness of his voice for effect, something that elicited an unimpressed look from Kuta. Patzau Ashill remained as stoic as ever, never one to react to his mockery or jests. The soldiers dropped their salutes and Patzau Ashill dismissed her senior officers into the hall, leaving just the three of them. Mellen smiled jubilantly, making friendly eye-contact with each person who passed on their way out. Patzau Ashill watched him the entire time. She wore an outfit heavily inspired by her guild’s officer uniforms, but with far more embellishments. Fine imported fabrics. Lavish embroidery and gold across the shoulders.

Yanata Ashill was lean and stern; a no-nonsense woman with dark hair done up in her usual military braid. She had dark eyes that never seemed to smile. Mellen took a seat across from her and picked up a trinket off her table. It was a small map of the city about the size of Mellen’s hand. It was heavier than it looked and was shaped from cast metal and backlit with small glowing illum stones on the bottom. Perforations in the metal allowed the glow to spread out around key locations. A nifty piece of artistry. He intuited its maker at a glance.  

“You know, I could have a larger one of these made for you” Mellen said waiving the glowing metal map at her. “Perhaps I could have a table made for you, carved with a map of the city. We could use the same effect to highlight names of key positions like the squares, the gates, the auction house, the government building, your fortress…”

“We both know that’s not why you’ve come today.” Patzau Ashill said, “What do you want, Mellen?”

“Always so quick to business, Yanata.” Mellen said. “Can’t a friend ever offer his services?”

“I’m a busy woman” Patzau Ashill said. “My guild doesn’t run itself like yours always seems to.”

“I will take that as a compliment” Mellen said, placing the small map back on the broad table. “I will pass it on to my hard-working wife and our many dedicated personnel.”

“By all means, send Mira my compliments. Now what do you want?” Patzau Ashill said, punctuating each word.

“Tonight, we have the weekly council meeting” Mellen said. “I’ve come to try to persuade you to vote against your own interests. I want to ensure that Patzau Hadashenta’s proposal to levy additional taxes against my guildsmen is defeated at the vote tonight.”

She smiled at that. Not with her eyes, but a win is a win. “And why would I help you do that?” Patzau Ashill asked. “I’ve seen continuous cuts to my guild’s spending in recent years. Your artisans seem to accumulate plenty of wealth. I believe that it was even proposed that some of the additional revenue would go to supporting my soldiers. Why would I reasonably vote against my own interests?”

“I understand your position” Mellen said, rhythmically tapping his fingers along his thigh, “But I think you may change your mind after listening to what I have to say about the matter.”

“Please” Patzau Ashill said dryly. “Enlighten me.”

“First and foremost,” Mellen said, conjuring as much bravado as he could manage, “I agree with you” he said flatly. The dramatic flare lacked the desired effect as Patzau Ashill sat across from him, still unphased. He felt that she might be overjoyed, bewildered, or downright pissed off and he’d still be unable to read her hard face.

“You agree?” she said, unimpressed. “I thought you were trying to win me to your side.”

“In due time” Mellen sang. “You are right. There are artisans in my guild that are making significant profits. But there are far more who are barely earning enough to feed their families, let alone own fund multiple houses, fancy parties, and private galleys. We are doing well, and this is good for everyone, but my guildsmen don’t sit amongst the highest echelons of society. We are seen by the people of Caso as a beacon of success and wealth.”

“Your guild is seen as opulent” Patzau Ashill countered.

“Yes, opulent is perhaps a good word. We have our offenders, same as all the guilds” Mellen agreed with a focused gaze that indicated an unspoken implication behind those words. The Ashills were an old and proud family. Far wealthier than the average Casoyan. “But this view of our guild is what sustains our businesses. The people of Caso must see us as successful, to thus see the city as successful. If business is bad for us, how will people feel about their own economic prospects? Our products draw much of the business that comes from the wider world.”

“The auction houses bring in foreign business.” Patzau Ashill said.

“And who do you think provides majority of the goods sold in the Great Casoyan Auctions? Not to mention majority of the goods in the lesser auctions. It is needless to debate which guild is most important. Doing so would be akin to arguing which organ in the human body is the most important. It ultimately doesn’t matter if removing any one kills the host.”

“So, increasing taxes on your guildsmen will destroy this city? Is that what you’re implying?” Yanata asked.

“Of course, not” Mellen said dismissively. “It is a metaphor. My thesis is simply that taxing my guild will not solve the issues we are having.” Mellen took a deep breath. He continued in a slower and more serious tone, “There has been a trend over the last two decades and I am sure you have noticed it with your own eyes. Caso is the wealthiest city in the known world. We are wealthier now than we have ever been before. And yet regular people in this city seem to be suffering for it. We have mountains of gold and yet droves of people live outside the city in slums, ravaged by gangs and violence and neglect. Inside the walls, the average Casoyan finds it hard to afford food and housing.”

He could see it in her eyes. He had her attention now. He dropped his voice low, almost a murmur, “Coin is flowing out of the pockets of the people and into the hands of a select few at an alarming rate. The greed of the old line of kings has reared it ugly head once again. Desperate people are throwing themselves into servitude to pay off debts. We have become so corrupted by greed that we are consuming our very selves.”

Patzau Ashill sat pondering. Her silence made Mellen nervous. He still wasn’t sure where she might lie on the matter. She was old money, after all. But she was also a pragmatist. All he could do was hope that she might take his concerns seriously. Finally, she spoke, “Explain it to me. How does all of this have to do with your tax increase?”

“My guild is proactive on this issue. We have already implemented measures to keep our wealth from pooling, to spread it between the forges, artists, and craftsmen. This proposed tax increase isn’t to provide more funding to the guilds; it’s in retaliation to my continuous efforts to reveal the fact that some in this city are becoming absurdly wealthy. You must see clearly the schism that has been widening between the council. Patzau Powanati is unwavering in his greed and his control over the city’s wealth is a both a weapon and a boon. He’s turned Adagizhi and Hadashenta to his side and they use it to pay for obedience or to ensure those who could stop them turn a blind eye. They are amassing enough wealth and power to supress and undermine the remaining guilds. What I don’t understand is why Yohati allows it…”

A long silence hung between them. It lasted long enough to make Mellen uncomfortable. Finally, Yanata spoke, “Spirits, you’ve gone delusional, Mellen”

He bit his tongue and did his best to bury his brashness. “And how do you suppose that?”

“Where is your proof? You sound like a madman. We vote, all eight of us on matters of governance including taxes and control. If Yohati’s auditors aren’t ringing any alarm bells, then I’m not concerned. I’ll be honest, Mellen, from my vantage it appears as if you’re the one seeking more control and power. It feels as if you suddenly woke up one day and decided Powanati was your enemy.”

“Proof?” Mellen scoffed. “How can I provide hard proof when those who do all the accounting refuse to let anyone but Yohati’s people see the ledgers? We don’t even get to know what Yohati’s auditor’s see. They could be part of it.” That comment elicited a scowl, but Mellen didn’t care for pretenses any more. He was frustrated and angry that he seemed to be the only person left who cared. “You said it yourself; your guild is being underfunded but always with the promise that more coin will appear soon to keep you placated. Mine is being pilfered for additional taxes. Ada’s guild is losing more and more of its duties and powers to Yohati, Powanati, and Hadashenta. They are starving the rest of us, and my guild is the only guild capable of providing alternative funding. The only one capable to tipping the scales.”

“What about Adagizhi’s guild?” Yanata asked. “He seems unaffected.”

“They can’t touch Adagizhi” Mellen argued, “because he’s had nothing left to take for decades. His guildmembers make dirt compared to your soldiers and my artisans and if they took any more from the poor bastards, they’d riot and the city would starve. If they could skim a little more from Adagizhi, they siphon control from his guild too!”

“Here-say” Patzau Ashill said.

“Caso is the wealthiest city in the world, Yanata. More gold flows through our ports than all the backwater towns and cities of the world combined” Mellen said, angry now. “We are rich because of Hadashenta’s Auction House. And the Careyago Auction House is successful because Patzau Murocil sells the dream of visiting the ‘city of gold’ and getting rich. People travel across the seas to buy and sell and it’s my job to give them something to buy. We have built a system where we produce the worlds finest junk. And with this beautiful junk, we get rich. And others come from faraway lands with their wonderful junk to sell it to our rich people. And then other rich people who can afford to visit also come to buy all the nice junk sold here. And somewhere along the way we stopped caring about the people in this city because riches and junk became all that mattered. And to keep the river of gold and junk flowing, the city needs to be safe and it needs food. Caso is successful because Adagizhi feeds the people and provides raw materials. It is successful because you keep the streets safe. But where is our share of the wealth? We are the ones fighting over the leftover scraps. Coin is disappearing, Yanata, and we both know its not disappearing into my guild’s pockets…. It’s clearly not going into yours either.” Mellen added, looking around the dusty office.

“How can you claim that your guild is getting scraps?” Patzau Ashill asked. She was angry too now. Her voice was laced with accusation. “You yourself described your guild as decadent.”

“Opulent”

“What?” Patzau Ashill said.

“The word you and I agreed on was opulent, Yanata” Mellen repeated. “Opulence implies a level of wealth and prestige. Decadence is exactly what I hope to exterminate from this city.”

Patzau Ashill brought her hand to her temples in frustration. “Nobody in this city makes me as irritated as you, Mellen.”

“If it makes you feel any better” Mellen griped, “Nobody irritates me the way I irritate myself either.”

She almost smiled at that. Not with her eyes. He had her thinking about it, and so he pushed the point again, “It would be so damned easy to feign ignorance, Yanata. It would be so fucking easy to just not care. After all, you said it yourself, I’m already fucking rich.”

The two Patzau sat in silence for a moment. Neither able to voice the thought inside. Kuta cleared her throat and Patzau Ashill, as if for the first time, looked towards the smaller girl tucked away at the back of the room. Mellen’s Aginjigaade sat as quiet as a mouse.

“For spirits sake, Mellen” Patzau Ashill roared. She rose from her chair and planted her palms on the desk between them with a loud thud. “You didn’t kick her out with my aides?!” she shouted.

“No, she’s with me” Mellen said, as if offended on Kuta’s behalf. “Where I go, she goes. I’d tell her everything about our conversation anyway. Better she’s here to listen for herself.” Kuta froze with a wide-eyed stare.

Patzau Ashill grumbled, considered ordering the girl out, and then relented to more grumbling. “You make it so fucking hard to like you, Mellen” she said, pulling at her hair in frustration. “Girl” she said, addressing Kuta, “tell me your name again?”

“Her name is Kuta” Mellen said.

“I didn’t ask you, Mellen” Patzau Ashill growled. “She can answer herself.”

“I’m Kuta” Kuta squeaked.

“And what type of Aginjigaade are you?” Patzau Ashill asked. “Are you the reading thoughts type? Did you hide yourself to listen in? Phase through the walls? Make me hear things?”

“I’ve got an elemental affinity to metals spirits” Kuta answered.

“Right, you’re the girl from the mountains” Yanata said. “That seems to align well with your like of work. Are you an artisan too?” Patzau Ashill asked.

“Not professionally” Kuta answered.

“Kuta, what changes has Patzau Minoc implemented to improve your guild?”

“I’m sorry?” Kuta answered, perhaps thinking she misheard.

“What has our good friend Patzau Mellen-fucking-Minoc done to improve the lives of his guildsmen like he claims he’s done?”

“Well, I know that Patzau Minoc introduced the dues system to the guild” Kuta answered. Her voice was quiet and cautious, but she picked up confidence as she continued. “All members are required to pay dues to central funds that support guild initiatives that are voted on by members at the forum. Projects funded by the system include negotiated resources contracts to reduce costs, accreditations for apprentices, marks of legitimacy, and organizational supports.”

“Go on. How does this improve the lives of his guildsmen?”

“Well, the guild is now a community of artisans that work together to succeed as a whole, rather than companies competing for shares of the business as I’m told it used to be. The old system rewarded the largest players and snuffed out the embers of innovation and talent. Wealth pooled in larger groups like the Loza Metallurgy Group, which infamously used its power and status to push other artisans out of business. Since Mellen’s reforms, the quality of goods has gone up, there is money set aside for investing in resources, innovations, and upgrades, and profits are higher across the entire guild.”

Yanata frowned. The girl was making sense. She didn’t like it. She turned back to Patzau Minoc to find a pleased grin spread wide across his face. She liked that even less. She sighed angrily. “Go on” she said, “finish your fucking speech. I bet you practiced it a dozen times in the mirror this morning. Wouldn’t want to rob you of your big finale, Mellen.”

“My guild members are wealthy because my guild creates wealth and then shares it” Mellen said. “Yours is a guild that spends Yanata, and I do not fault you for that. It is simply the truth. We, as a society, must spend on soldiers for safety and security and we must spend on bureaucrats and administrators to keep track of everything. It is vital. I would not deny that. My guild, however, is one that earns money. We create and produce and ultimately sell our wares for profit but not before sharing our earnings amongst all of our members and, through the taxes we pay, we share that wealth with you and the rest of the city. Taxing my guildsmen a little more would certainly bring in some extra coin. I’m not so dishonest as to sit here and lie that it wouldn’t.”

“Wrap it up” Yanata said. He was losing her again.

“My point” Mellen said, “Is that certain guilds bring in coin to the city and certain guilds spend it. Myself, Adagizhi, Hadashenta, and Onudar are producers. Yohati, Murocil, yourself and Powanati are spenders. That’s not a judgement, just the reality. But when we take a step back and compare the budgets across the eight guilds, my point becomes clearer. The four guilds with the highest wages are mine, Hadashenta’s, Yohati’s, and Powanati’s. My guild and Hadashenta’s account for half of all the city’s tax income, which seems reasonable as the city’s largest sources of profit. Yohati’s bureaucrats run the city, and we want competent people in charge, so their high budget is also no surprise. That leaves Powanati’s bankers. Like Yohati’s administrators, we need the people managing the city’s finances to be competent. The difference is that Powanati’s bankers cost the city almost as much as your soldiers, and only a little less than Yohati’s. This might not sound unreasonable until you remember that Powanati’s guild is the smallest. It has a tenth of your membership and a quarter of Yohati’s. Where is all that money going?”

Patzau Ashill sat and stewed in the new perspective. The politics of the city always appeared to give her a headache. She was never amidst the political scheming. Mellen liked that about her.  She was a competent leader and basically bred for military tactics and leadership. It was those facts that gave him some hope. Finally, Patzau Ashill said, “Okay. I have heard your perspective and I will give it some thought. I don’t believe what you implied about Powanati being corrupt. There are far too many safeguards for that to be true. I also think that you and Powanati have different perspectives on what will improve the lives of people, and it’s important to remember that different is not wrong. I will consider everything you’ve said today, but I will make no promises.”

“Nor would I expect any from you.” Mellen said.  “But keep what I have shared with you about Powanati in mind the next time he comes to you with offers and promises. Demand significantly more than he offers. And he will offer.”

Mellen moved to stand from his place across the desk, stretching his large arms out as he did so. He looked massive when compared to Patzau Ashill, seated at her desk. Mellen retrieved the small metal map once again and smiled as he tossed it back and forth between his thick fingers. “I think I will have somebody make a larger version of this.” He set the little metal map back down on the table and turned to go.

That night at the Patzau Council meeting, the motion to tax the Artisan’s Guild passed in voting, six votes to two. Yanata sighed in relief. She had mulled over Minoc’s words most of the evening and when only Patzau Murocil and Minoc’s hands rose for the vote, she was grateful for not having risked anything in siding with the losing side. Unbeknownst to her, her vote would have been the decider.

After visiting her atop the fortress, Minoc met with Adagizhi in his chambers where Adagizhi pledged only to vote against the motion if Patzau Ashill did so first. As hands were raised, Yanata and Adagizhi found each other’s gazes across the table and when neither took the lead to object, the motion passed. Minoc, left only with Patzau Murocil’s support, leaned back in his chair in disappointment. He wasn’t angry. Not this time. He’d been prepared for this.

After the vote’s conclusion, Minoc proposed the same increased taxes for both the Auction House and Banking Guilds. Another round of arguments rolled through the round chamber but Yanata wasn’t bothered. She left the council meeting feeling satisfied, knowing she had secured more resources and funding for her guild. And, if she supported Minoc’s counter proposals, more might be on the way. It was enough to suppress the nagging feeling from Minoc’s warning to the back of her mind.