Varyo sat comfortably on the shaded veranda of his small but bustling trading post in New Qarth, sipping a glass of chilled wine. His life as a merchant had always been simple—his avocado farm provided a reliable, if modest, income. Nothing extravagant, but it kept him afloat. The Edenites, with their peculiar obsession for putting avocados on everything, had been steady customers, offering fair prices but never anything outrageous. Until now.
The past few weeks had been nothing short of a financial windfall. Every crate of avocados he brought to New Qarth sold almost instantly—and not just for a decent profit, but for eye-watering amounts of money. Edenite buyers, typically cool and indifferent, were now scrambling to secure every shipment Varyo could provide. Some offered double or even triple the usual price, haggling with wild desperation. Gold coins, once so carefully guarded, were now being thrown about like copper pieces.
At first, Varyo thought his luck had finally turned. But as the surreal trend continued, he grew suspicious. The demand was far beyond what even the most avocado-crazed Edenites could justify. He wasn't the only one noticing it either—his fellow merchants reported similar frenzies over other mundane goods. One silk trader had sold out his entire stock in a single day, while another merchant hawking salt said his supplies had been emptied within hours, with buyers paying five times the usual rate.
Confused and intrigued, Varyo made his way to the merchant quarter, hoping to uncover the source of this sudden madness. There, he met with Haron, an old acquaintance who specialized in exotic spices. Like Varyo, Haron was equally baffled by the chaotic market behavior.
"It makes no sense," Haron muttered, scratching his balding head as they shared a drink. "The only thing I can think of is some grand festival happening in Eden. But that doesn't add up. The only major celebration near this time of year is Christmas, and that's still months away."
Varyo nodded, swirling his wine. "I thought the same. Maybe some local holiday? But even then, this kind of frenzy feels... unnatural."
The two men continued trading theories with other merchants gathered at the tavern, but most of the suggestions were wild guesses. Some thought it was a royal wedding or a diplomatic summit. Others whispered about a new cult spreading through Eden, urging its followers to stockpile goods. None of the explanations seemed convincing.
Then, an older silk merchant named Barlos entered the tavern, his clothes freshly dusted from his return journey from Eden's capital. He sat down with a weary grin, and the other merchants crowded around him. If anyone had insight, it would be someone who had just come from Eden's inner circles.
"Barlos!" Haron called, clapping the man on the back. "What in the gods' names is happening? Why are the Edenites buying everything like it's the end of the world?"
Barlos chuckled, though there was a tension in his eyes. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you. It's a political power struggle."
The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the tavern's hearth. A power struggle? In Eden? That was nearly unthinkable. Edenites were famous for their robotic efficiency and unwavering loyalty to the Supreme Leader. The idea of internal conflict seemed absurd.
"You're joking," Varyo said, narrowing his eyes. "Eden's politicians don't fight. They're practically machines."
Barlos shook his head, swirling his drink. "Not this time. Something's changed. The fight started over the most ridiculous thing—a baby."
"A baby?" Haron repeated, confused.
"Yeah. Something about this kid—the Dome Baby—triggered a massive rift in Eden's administration," Barlos explained. "It started small, but now it's blown up into a full-blown ideological war. On one side, you've got the Sacred 69—the old elite, notorious for their tight control over trade with outsiders. They hate us foreign merchants and make it nearly impossible to do business in Eden without jumping through a thousand hoops."
The mention of the Sacred 69 drew a chorus of groans from the other merchants. Every trader in the room had suffered under their strict, stifling policies.
"And on the other side?" Varyo asked, leaning forward.
"The new money elites," Barlos answered, grinning. "They're young, ambitious, and far more open to outside trade. They're not as obsessed with maintaining Eden's 'purity.' In fact, they love what we bring to the table—our goods, our ideas, our business methods. If they win this fight, it'll be a golden age for all of us."
The merchants exchanged hopeful glances. If the new money elites could take control, it would mean fewer restrictions, more trade, and higher profits. But the idea of a political struggle in Eden still felt surreal.
"How did this even start?" Varyo asked, bewildered. "Why would something as trivial as a baby lead to all this?"
Barlos shrugged. "It's hard to say. What I do know is that the whole thing spiraled out of control. What began as a minor disagreement over the baby turned into a massive ideological conflict. Now, the two factions are at each other's throats, and the administrative machinery is falling apart."
"And that's why the supply chains are collapsing," Varyo realized, the pieces falling into place.
"Exactly," Barlos confirmed. "Eden's infamous efficiency is breaking down. Shipments are delayed, orders are getting lost, and everyone is panicking. The wealthy Edenites, in particular, are terrified. They don't know how long this mess will last, so they're buying up anything they can get their hands on—avocados, silk, salt, wine, you name it."
Varyo leaned back in his chair, stunned. It all made sense now. The sudden surge in demand, the frantic buying—it wasn't a festival or a celebration. It was fear. The Edenites, so used to their perfectly ordered world, were facing uncertainty for the first time in generations. And in their panic, they were willing to pay outrageous prices for even the most ordinary goods.
"Well," Haron said, raising his glass, "whatever the reason, it's good news for us."
Varyo chuckled and clinked his glass against Haron's. "I'll drink to that. Here's to chaos—and to profit."
As the tavern filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, Varyo couldn't help but smile. The political turmoil in Eden might have been unsettling, but for merchants like him, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And until order was restored, he intended to make the most of it.
"Looks like I'll need to plant more avocado trees," he mused, savoring the thought of even bigger profits on the horizon.