Skot’s gaze sharpens. “Go on.”
“Keshivar controls grain distribution from the northern routes,” I continue. “If those routes are being hit, they’re not just losing supply—they’re losing control of that region.”
“And control is status,” Verr adds.
“And if they lose it,” I say, looking up again, “someone else can take it.”
That lands the way I expect it to. Neither of them interrupts this time.
“Drenhal is tied to livestock,” I go on, shifting slightly along the table. “They rely on consistency. If their contracts start slipping, they don’t just lose product—they lose credibility. That spreads faster than the loss itself.”
Verr nods once, his attention fully on me now. “And Voroith?”
“They’re new,” I say, the answer coming easier the more I think through it. “Still building their position. That makes them unstable. Any disruption looks bigger to them than it actually is, which means they’ll react faster and louder than the others.”
Skot moves a step closer, adjusting one of the parchments slightly as if aligning it with what I’ve just said. “Which makes them useful.”
“Which makes them dangerous,” I correct, glancing at him. “If they overreact too early, it looks suspicious.”
“Then we don’t let it look like they’re the first,” Verr says.
I nod slowly. “Right. They just need to be the loudest once it starts.”
There’s a shift in the room then, subtle but real, like the space itself is tightening around the direction this is taking. I straighten slightly, letting my hand fall back to my side.
“You don’t go to them directly,” I say. “If you do, they’ll question it.”
“Then how do we reach them?” Verr asks.
I meet his gaze.
“You don’t reach them,” I say. “You let them hear it.”
He watches me for a second, then nods once. “Rumors.”
“Not obvious ones,” I say. “Not something that looks planted. It has to feel like something they weren’t supposed to hear.”
Skot’s expression shifts slightly, approval there even if he doesn’t say it outright.
“Servants,” I continue. “Guards. Merchants moving between houses. You let the right people hear the wrong conversation and trust them to carry it where it needs to go.”
“And what exactly are they hearing?” Verr asks.
I lean forward again, bracing my hand lightly against the table as I answer.
“They’re hearing that Krago isn’t just attacking villages,” I say. “He’s walking through territory that’s supposed to be controlled and taking what he wants without resistance.”
Verr’s eyes narrow slightly, following the line of thought.
“You frame it like failure,” he says.
“No,” I correct. “You frame it like disrespect.”
The word settles heavier than the rest, and I see the way it lands with both of them.
“These routes aren’t just supply lines,” I continue. “They’re proof of control. If someone can break through them and keep going, then it doesn’t just mean loss—it means the control was never real to begin with.”
“That they’ve been exposed,” Skot says.
