I let the words drop like stones. “They plan to blame the Alliance.”
A murmur rises, ugly and fast.
Coalhand rep’s face hardens. “That’s insane.”
“It’s efficient,” I say. “Gur collapses, everyone panics, the Alliance takes the political hit, and the Nine steps into the chaos like a savior offering ‘stability.’”
Dockwright rep curses under his breath. “They’d turn the city into a weapon.”
“They already have,” I reply. “You just didn’t see the fuse.”
Father Vahl’s voice goes quiet. “If this is real… they’re going to kill anyone who helps you.”
“Yes,” I say.
Spindle’s pretty man swallows. “Then the answer is simple. We don’t help you.”
Several heads nod, relieved to have a coward’s path that feels rational.
Coalhand rep taps the table sharply. “Agreed. We keep our heads down. We ride it out.”
I watch them, unimpressed.
“You think you can ride out an engineered collapse?” I ask, tone almost amused. “You think you can hide from a machine designed to hunt you?”
Father Vahl’s eyes narrow. “You’re trying to scare us into obedience.”
“I’m trying to scare you into survival,” I correct.
Dockwright rep leans back, arms crossed. “You’re Kaijen. You’ve got teeth. We don’t.”
I tilt my head. “You’ve got numbers. You’ve got labor. You’ve got ports and mines and fuel lines and medical supply chains. Don’t pretend you’re helpless. You’re just used to being divided.”
Spindle’s man scoffs again, but it’s weaker. “And what do you want, exactly? A speech? A pledge?”
“I want you to back the hearing publicly,” I say. “I want your syndicates and guilds to stand in the open and say: we will not be devoured separately.”
Coalhand rep laughs once, harsh. “That’s suicide.”
“Separately is suicide,” I reply. “Together is a war.”
The room is quiet enough that the drip of condensation in the walls sounds loud.
Then a new voice cuts in—smooth, arrogant.
“You’re not the one who decides that.”
Everyone turns.
A rival syndicate leader rises from the far end—Korran Vale, head of the Red Meridian, a man whose smile looks like it’s been practiced in mirrors. His suit is immaculate. His eyes are empty.
He claps slowly. “Inspiring. Really. Kaijen, you’ve always had flair.”
I don’t move. “Korran.”
He spreads his hands. “You call a ‘summit.’ You drag the city’s major players into a hidden room and demand unity under your banner.” His smile widens. “You know what that looks like?”
“Like leadership,” I say.
