The Grand Duke did not begin his investigation inside the palace.
If there truly was someone manipulating the Empire's trade, the answers would never be hidden behind polished marble floors or neatly written reports. The paper only recorded the decisions people wanted others to see. The truth was always found where money changed hands.
By sunrise, Gideon Sterling had already left his manor.
The first warehouse he visited belonged to one of the largest grain merchants in the capital. Workers froze the moment they recognized him, and within seconds, the owner came rushing from his office, nearly tripping over the hem of his robe in his haste to greet the Grand Duke. Gideon paid little attention to the man's nervous bows. Instead, he walked straight past him, his eyes moving across the stacks of grain, the shipping ledgers lying open on a nearby table, and the workers hauling sacks onto waiting wagons.
"Show me every canceled contract from the past month," he said.
The merchant hesitated only long enough to swallow before personally carrying over three heavy account books. Gideon stood there for nearly an hour, turning each page himself while the merchant waited anxiously beside him. He never explained what he was searching for, nor did he ask about profits or losses. Every few pages he would quietly ask another question—where the shipment had been headed, who had canceled first, whether another merchant had immediately taken the contract—but his expression never changed no matter what answer he received.
When he finally closed the last ledger, he thanked the merchant with a short nod and left without another word.
The same scene repeated itself throughout the city.
He visited iron foundries, shipping companies, warehouses along the river, and even the offices of caravan masters who normally dealt only with common traders. Everywhere he went, people answered every question with almost desperate honesty. No one wished to discover what happened to those who lied to the Frozen Duke.
By evening, an entire carriage was filled with copied records.
His steward watched silently as Gideon spread the documents across the long table inside his study. Hundreds of contracts covered the polished wood, connected only by dates and locations that seemed meaningless to everyone except the man studying them.
"I don't understand," the steward admitted after watching him work for nearly an hour. "Every cancellation hurts the Solis family."
"It does."
"Then whoever is behind this must be making a fortune."
Gideon's fingers paused over one of the ledgers.
"No."
The single word immediately caught the steward's attention.
Gideon picked up three different contracts and placed them side by side. One involved grain from the eastern provinces. Another concerned iron shipments from the north. The third belonged to a silk merchant operating hundreds of miles away.
"Tell me who benefited from these."
The steward carefully examined the records before answering.
"The grain contract was replaced by a merchant from the western district."
He pointed toward the second.
"The iron shipment was purchased by a foundry outside the capital."
Finally, he looked at the last.
"And this silk contract... wasn't replaced at all."
He frowned.
"They have nothing in common."
"Exactly."
Gideon leaned back in his chair, his pale gray eyes drifting across the sea of documents.
"If this were greed, one merchant would be growing richer."
He slid another record across the table.
"If this were political, one noble house would be gaining influence."
Another document joined the pile.
"If this were corruption, the money would eventually lead back to the same hands."
He looked toward the window, where the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the rooftops of the capital.
"But it doesn't."
The room fell silent.
The steward slowly looked over the scattered reports once again. For the first time, he noticed what Gideon had seen almost immediately.
Every canceled contract benefited someone different.
Every replacement merchant came from a different province.
Every decision made perfect business sense when viewed on its own.
Together...
They formed no pattern at all.
And that was precisely what made them impossible.
Gideon rested one finger on the corner of the map lying beneath the contracts.
"Someone isn't trying to enrich themselves."
His voice remained calm, almost thoughtful.
"They're changing the direction of the Empire."
At almost the same hour, several stories beneath the capital, another meeting had already begun.
The seven Gardeners stood around the circular table, each carrying fresh reports from every corner of the Empire. Trade was the first to step forward, placing a thick bundle of letters before Kira.
"The Solis family has already lost seven major contracts," he reported. "If you give the order, we can finish the rest within a month."
Finance nodded in agreement. "Their creditors have begun asking questions. A few more weeks, and no merchant will dare lend them another coin."
Another Gardener smiled faintly. "One word from you, and House Solis will collapse before the season ends."
Kira remained quiet as she turned the pages one by one. Every report confirmed that the plan was unfolding exactly as expected. Merchants were withdrawing. Investors were becoming cautious. Caravans were quietly changing routes. None of it was dramatic enough to attract suspicion, yet together they were tightening into a noose.
She closed the final report.
"No."
The answer surprised everyone around the table.
Trade blinked. "Lady Kira... they're already stumbling."
"Which is why we stop pushing."
Several puzzled glances were exchanged.
Kira stood and walked toward the great map hanging on the wall. Her gaze settled on the territory controlled by House Solis before slowly moving outward toward the neighboring provinces.
"If a tree falls overnight, everyone asks who cut it down."
Her fingers traced the roads spreading across the Empire.
"But if insects hollow out its trunk for years..."
She looked back at the Gardeners.
"...people blame the wind."
Silence settled over the chamber as understanding slowly dawned on every face.
Kira wasn't planning for the next month.
She was planning for the day when the Solis family finally collapsed—and no one would ever think to search for the hand that had pushed the first stone.