A bustle of activity roared throughout the square. Merchants haggled and yelled, their voices clashing as carts rumbled over uneven cobblestones. The crowd surged and swirled, creating a cacophony of life. Amid the chaos, the merchant lay in a sunlit room above the square, the morning light streaming through the window. He stirred, his gaze drifting to the woman beside him. Her green eyes, flecked with gold, fluttered open, meeting his with a soft smile. Loose curls framed her face, cascading over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her skin, smooth and glowing in the morning light, held a warmth that contrasted with the sharp edges of her expression. A faint scent of lavender clung to her, mingling with the lingering aroma of rose petals scattered around the room. She shifted slightly, her slender form draped in sheets that hinted at a poise and confidence carefully honed.
"You're already awake," she murmured, her voice hushed and languid.
The merchant returned her smile, his eyes lingering on her features. "How could I not be, with such beauty beside me?" His tone carried an effortless charm, but it softened as he sighed. "Still, there's work to be done."
Her smile faded slightly as she shifted away, rising from the bed with deliberate grace. She lingered at the edge, her fingers brushing the sheets as though caught in a moment of indecision. Finally, she turned to him, her expression soft yet resolute. "Take me with you," she said quietly, her voice wavering but hopeful. "There's nothing for me here. I could travel by your side, help you in whatever way you need."
The merchant studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. "The road is no place for someone like you," he said at last, his tone gentle but firm. "You belong where beauty and grace are appreciated, not among the dust and dangers of my trade."
Her lips tightened, and she stood, crossing the room with deliberate movements. Pulling her robe around her shoulders, she let out a bitter laugh. "Be careful in Roness," she said, her voice low and cautious. "Lord Cartlian won't let you sell your wares without taxing half of it."
The merchant's brow furrowed, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "If things are as dire as you say, why not incite a rebellion? Surely the people's voice, unified in defiance, would force his hand to change."
She laughed again, but this time there was no humor in it. "Talk like that will get you killed," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "And rebellion? Don't even think of it." She turned to gather her things, her movements sharp and deliberate. Before leaving, she glanced back at him, her expression conflicted. "You're a clever man, merchant, but cleverness won't save you from his wrath." With that, she slipped out of the room.
The merchant sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts churning. Rebellion. The word hung in the air like smoke, bitter and intoxicating. He sighed, rising from the bed and dressing carefully, his gaze lingering on the scattered rose petals in the room. "Far too many to be romantic," he muttered to himself.
Descending the stairs, he walked through the dimly lit hall, the murmur of voices and faint laughter growing louder. A lounge filled with women came into view, their smiles warm and inviting as they beckoned to him. Some reached for his hand, but he brushed past them, his focus unwavering.
Outside, the square buzzed with life. The merchant moved through the crowd, the noise and chaos a familiar backdrop to his thoughts. At the caravan, he began his inspection, carefully examining each wagon. He tested the wheels, prodded at the weight distribution, and scrutinized the repairs completed overnight. Satisfied, he made his way to the back, where his guards gathered in a loose circle.
Henry noticed him first, grinning broadly. "How were the women of Roness, your highness?" he teased, giving an exaggerated bow.
The merchant smirked, his tone casual. "Tanya was lovely. She even offered to join the caravan—until I mentioned rebellion."
The words landed heavily among the guards, their expressions shifting from amusement to unease. Henry was the first to speak. "You mean to incite a rebellion?"
The group erupted into a heated debate, voices overlapping as they argued. The merchant let them vent their frustrations before finally raising a hand. "I'm willing to pay more," he said evenly, "and you are free to leave. But if you believe this land needs healing, I ask that you protect me."
Silence fell, the tension palpable. Henry glanced at each of his comrades, waiting for their nods of approval. Most agreed without hesitation, but one did not. Tarrel, clad in plated armor that gleamed in the sunlight, stood with a resolute expression.
"I wish to put forth an argument," Tarrel said, his voice steady. "But I will not leave."
Henry nodded, giving him the floor. Tarrel took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the group. "As all of you have noticed, there's something off about this territory—this city. You can see a man in velvet eating grain and meat beside another who lives on rat soup in the streets." He paused, his tone growing heavier. "I don't wish these people to suffer, but there's no point in trying to dethrone a noble. Even if we succeed, he'll just be replaced by another mongrel. Please, reconsider."
A wave of unease washed over the group. Tarrel's words carried weight, his knowledge of noble games undeniable. Henry turned to the merchant, seeking guidance.
The merchant's expression hardened. "You are right," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "There is no point in dethroning him. But a rebellion doesn't have to happen for there to be power in it."
He met Tarrel's gaze, unwavering. "All we must do is incite the people to talk of rebellion. That will be enough to secure an audience with the Lord. Once we have that, I can convince him to stop this madness."
Tarrel tilted his head back, his gaze fixed on the sky as though seeking solace. Finally, he looked at Henry and gave a single nod. The group exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of hope and trepidation.
They turned to the merchant, waiting for his approval. But he simply stood there, his face unreadable, a swirl of emotions lurking behind his eyes. He thought to himself, Didn't think we'd get this far.