Prince Julian had never trusted coincidences.
The first report reached him three days after Lord Solis lost his second contract. A merchant caravan that had supplied one of the capital's largest trading houses for nearly fifteen years had unexpectedly changed its route, choosing to sell its goods in the western provinces instead. The explanation was reasonable enough. Flooded roads had increased transportation costs, making the western route more profitable.
Julian barely gave it a second glance.
Trade shifted with the seasons. Merchants followed profit, not loyalty.
By the following afternoon, however, another report landed on his desk.
This time it involved a silk consortium that had quietly withdrawn from an agreement with one of the lesser noble houses. Again, the explanation sounded perfectly believable. Their overseas supplier had failed to deliver on time, forcing them to renegotiate every contract.
Julian frowned as he folded the letter.
"Another?"
His steward nodded. "The third this week."
"The third?"
"The others didn't concern Your Highness directly, so I didn't mention them."
Julian leaned back in his chair and tapped the report against the polished armrest. "Bring me the others."
The steward disappeared without another word.
When he returned, he carried a stack of documents tied together with dark blue ribbon. Julian spent the better part of the evening reading through them one by one. None appeared suspicious on their own. Delayed caravans, canceled contracts, damaged warehouses, merchants withdrawing from negotiations—every explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.
That was precisely what unsettled him.
Nothing connected the incidents.
Different provinces.
Different merchants.
Different products.
Different noble houses.
Yet they all carried the same peculiar feeling, as though someone had nudged the Empire ever so slightly off its usual course.
He couldn't prove it.
He couldn't even explain it.
But the pattern lingered in the back of his mind long after he set the reports aside.
The next morning, he summoned his intelligence captain.
"I want every merchant whose trading habits changed this month investigated."
The captain looked puzzled.
"Every merchant?"
"Every one."
"It may simply be market fluctuation."
Julian's gaze drifted toward the window overlooking the capital.
"Perhaps."
"But if it isn't..."
He let the sentence fade.
The captain understood immediately.
"I'll begin tonight."
Julian nodded, but after the man had left, he remained standing by the window.
His own intelligence network was excellent when dealing with nobles and military officials. Merchants, however, were another matter. Trade flowed through countless hands before reaching its destination, and information spread through marketplaces far faster than official channels.
If someone truly was manipulating commerce...
He needed someone who lived inside that world.
By evening, a discreet carriage left the rear gate of his residence.
Its destination wasn't a noble estate or government office.
It stopped in one of the oldest districts of the capital, where narrow streets twisted between weathered buildings and lanterns glowed softly above teahouses that had stood for generations.
The carriage remained hidden in the shadows while Julian's steward stepped inside a modest tea shop.
An elderly man greeted him with a polite smile.
"I hear you're looking for information."
The steward placed a heavy pouch of gold onto the table.
"My master wishes to know who has been influencing trade within the capital."
The old man didn't reach for the pouch.
Instead, he calmly poured two cups of tea before answering.
"That's an expensive question."
"My master is prepared to pay."
"I don't doubt it."
The old man finally accepted the pouch and tucked it beneath the table.
"I'll see what I can find."
Satisfied, the steward stood and left without another word.
The elderly man watched him disappear into the evening crowd before quietly carrying the untouched teacups into the back room.
A young apprentice was already waiting.
"Take this."
He handed over the pouch of gold together with a folded slip of paper.
"The usual place?"
"The usual place."
The apprentice nodded once before disappearing through a narrow door hidden behind shelves of tea leaves.
Less than an hour later, the message arrived beneath the capital.
It passed from one courier to another without a single spoken word. A flower vendor tucked it beneath a basket of fresh lilies before handing the basket to a gardener, who delivered it to a greenhouse on the city's western edge. There, the paper disappeared into the false bottom of a wooden crate filled with potted orchids.
By midnight, it rested upon the circular table inside Wildflower.
The Seven Gardeners gathered around as the florist unfolded the note.
"Prince Julian has begun searching for the person influencing the Empire's trade."
Trade clicked his tongue softly.
"So soon?"
"I expected at least another month."
Finance frowned.
"If he follows the trail long enough, he'll eventually reach us."
Several of the Gardeners exchanged uneasy glances.
Only Kira remained perfectly calm.
She read the report once before setting it aside.
"So," she said, almost thoughtfully, "he finally noticed."
The Chairman looked at her. "Should we cut off the information channels?"
"No."
"Eliminate the broker?"
"No."
Trade folded his arms. "Then what do we do?"
A faint smile appeared on Kira's lips as she reached for another blank sheet of paper.
"We help him."
The room fell silent.
Even the old florist looked genuinely surprised.
"Help him?" he repeated.
Kira dipped her brush into fresh ink.
"If a hunter enters the forest, he will eventually find footprints."
She began writing with slow, careful strokes.
"Our task isn't to erase them."
Her smile deepened ever so slightly.
"It's to make sure they're leading in the wrong direction."
She finished the letter, folded it neatly, and sealed it with plain wax before sliding it across the table toward Information.
"Send this back through the same broker."
The Gardener glanced at the seal but didn't open it.
"What does it say?"
Kira looked toward the flickering candlelight.
"It points him toward House Ashcroft.."
Trade blinked.
"But they have nothing to do with this."
"I know."
The silence that followed carried a different weight than before.
No one questioned her again.
For the first time, they understood that Lady Kira wasn't merely responding to her enemies.
She was deciding what they would believe before they even began asking the questions.
Somewhere above them, Prince Julian waited patiently for the first thread that would unravel the mystery before him.
He had no way of knowing that the thread he was about to pull had been placed there for him.