| Valtheris, Capital of the Federation of Argos |
The golden domes of Valtheris gleamed beneath the midday sun, their surfaces catching the light like molten treasure. The city stretched outward from the bay, a breathtaking panorama of white stone, glass towers, and sprawling marketplaces. Gilded bridges arched over the labyrinthine canals that snaked through the city, their waters shimmering with the hues of spices and dyes spilled from the cargo ships that had made Argos the wealthiest trade empire in the world.
In the heart of the city, atop the Grand Mercatoria, the ruling body of the Federation of Argos gathered within the Gilded Hall—a chamber so vast that its domed ceiling was painted with constellations of the known world, their positions enchanted to shift with the turning of the seasons. Beneath this celestial masterpiece, the Merchant Lords of Argos convened at a crescent-shaped table of polished ebony, their robes embroidered with the sigils of their respective trade houses.
At the head of the assembly sat Lirianne Velaros, Grand Merchant of Argos, her emerald eyes scanning the room with practiced ease. She was a woman of striking elegance, clad in a flowing robe of black and gold, her auburn hair pinned into a crown of delicate golden chains. A merchant by blood, a strategist by necessity—her rule had kept Argos unrivaled in trade for nearly a decade.
A courier stood before the council, holding a parchment sealed with an unfamiliar crest: the sigil of Vandemir—a golden phoenix rising from crimson and black flames.
"Read it," Lirianne commanded, her voice like silk over steel.
The courier unfurled the letter and began:
"To the Esteemed Grand Merchant of Argos,"
"I, Aedric Leiyen von Vandemir, Sovereign of Vandemir, extend my greetings and an offer of trade and partnership. Our dominion is young, but our ambitions are boundless. With the Whalefolk as our allies, we control routes both above and below the sea. We seek not conflict, but opportunity. Let us forge prosperity together."
"May our banners rise in mutual strength."
The room fell silent. Some of the Merchant Lords exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism.
Finally, an older man, Lord Valen Demos, head of the Demos Shipping Guild, leaned back in his chair. His thick, graying beard barely concealed his frown. "A young nation speaks of dominion as if it were a birthright. Arrogance, or ambition?"
"A fine line separates the two," Lirianne murmured, her fingers tapping against the armrest of her chair. "But arrogance does not crush a pirate oligarchy overnight. Nor does it command fleets and airships before most nations have even heard its name."
A younger noble, Lord Renio Valtros, scoffed. "They are an upstart kingdom. What could they possibly offer us that we do not already control?"
Lirianne's emerald eyes flicked toward him, amusement barely veiled. "You think too small, Renio. Trade is not about what you already have—it is about what you may yet gain."
She turned her attention back to the courier. "What else does Vandemir propose?"
"They have offered access to Whalefolk goods—pearls, enchanted coral, and medicinal extracts found only in the deep. Additionally, they offer exclusive trade rights for raw mithral ore."
That caught the room's attention.
"Mithral?" Valen Demos straightened. "Where did they find a source?"
"Unknown, but their claim seems legitimate," the courier replied. "Their letter states they have begun mining operations in their mountains."
Lirianne's mind worked quickly. Mithral was rare—an ore prized for its lightweight durability and magical conductivity. Argos had long relied on importing it from Solencia, whose monopoly on the resource ensured that prices remained exorbitantly high. If Vandemir's claim was true, this could shift the balance of economic power.
She leaned forward. "Summon the Argos Trade Delegation. We will send our own emissary to Vandemir. If their claims hold merit, we may yet find them more valuable than mere upstarts."
She glanced once more at the phoenix emblem of Vandemir, a thoughtful smirk playing at her lips.
"Let us see how brightly this new power intends to burn."
Later that evening, as the city glowed under the light of enchanted lanterns, Lirianne walked through the Silken Promenade, a stretch of market stalls and luxury shops where only the wealthiest merchants bartered. Here, deals were struck with a nod, and fortunes were made with the flick of a wrist.
Accompanied by her trusted aide, Malco Trevane, she observed the shifting currents of power.
"What do you make of this, Malco?"
The older man, his features weathered by years of trade disputes and political maneuvering, stroked his beard. "Vandemir is bold, but boldness alone is not a foundation. Yet… they do not move like fools. Their approach is measured, and they recognize the value of alliances."
Lirianne exhaled slowly. "Argos thrives because we adapt. If Vandemir proves themselves useful, we will shape them into something mutually beneficial."
"And if they become a threat?" Malco asked.
Lirianne's smirk was sharp as a dagger. "Then we will remind them that wealth is not merely about what you build—but what can be taken away."
The golden domes of Valtheris shone beneath the stars, a kingdom built not on armies, but on coin and cunning. Vandemir had sent their envoys.
Now, Argos would respond.
Meanwhile, in Vandemir as the sun dipped below the horizon in Eternis Primus, Aedric sat within the Diplomatic Hall, a chamber lined with banners of both Vandemir and its allies. Before him, reports detailing Argos's economic influence lay unfurled.
Sebastian poured a glass of deep red wine, his expression unreadable. "Do you believe they will accept the offer, my lord?"
Aedric swirled the glass, watching the liquid catch the candlelight. "Argos does not reject opportunity. They will test us, probe for weaknesses. But they will not turn away from potential profit."
"And if they seek to undermine us?"
Aedric smiled slightly. "Then we remind them that Vandemir does not barter from a position of weakness."
He set the glass down and stood, stepping onto the balcony where the city stretched before him—a vision of progress, illuminated by arcane lanterns and the glow of industry.
The world was beginning to move. Vandemir was no longer a whisper in the wind. It was a force in motion.
And soon, the grand game of nations would truly begin.