Two-World Traders (progression fantasy)

Elias only occasionally wandered through the Crown of Hightown, though he supposed his relationship with the neighborhood would change as a sitting member of the House of Merchants. Usually, his destination was the Trader's Bank, where The Two Worlds Trading Company stored most of its wealth these days, or less frequently the Trader's Hall for another seasonal exhibition. What he never had—before today—was any purpose in the House of Merchants, the smallest of three large buildings that formed the prongs of the Rise's proverbial crown.

If the Trader's Bank was grand in the manner of an imperial fortress, the House of Merchants possessed the charm of a regal manor. It boasted many half-moon windows, a veritable museum of statues adorning the premises, and even a few stone gargoyles perched below the sharp edges of the building's pyramidal copper roof.

Elias walked up a wide staircase sentineled with leering armored guards and through the pillared entrance of the legislature. The Crown's bustling intersection quieted into a background babble as doors were closed behind him, as the knocking of polished boots on hardwood crafted a new melody: a song of important people who had places to be. Elias peered around the expansive entry hall and questioned once more whether he really was one of them, though the letter folded inside his coat pocket was real enough. He felt for it to be sure.

"Excuse me, sir. Can I help you, sir?"

Elias turned toward a red-faced woman whose oversized spectacles seemed to forever place her behind a window. She waved him over as he met her goggle-eyed gaze. The counter he approached, much like the glasses the woman wore, seemed too big for the diminutive secretary. "Hello." He stopped on the other side of it. "I'm here for today's session."

The woman nodded thrice before shaking her head the same number of times. "Unfortunately, we do not permit spectators inside the House of Merchants, as riveting as the minutia of guild politics can no doubt be for your average citizen."

Elias retrieved his letter, unfolding it for her. "I'm not an average citizen," he said proudly, expecting her to look impressed.

The woman blinked at the letter, then tapped her finger—again, thrice—on the large leather book flopped open beside her. "Sign in here."

Elias followed her tapping and examined an empty page. "Am I the only one signing in?"

"You're early," she said.

"I didn't want to be late," he explained.

"Congratulations."

Elias signed his name and slinked past another set of guards.

The chamber in which the Trader's Guild debated and determined the fate of its many members largely resembled a modest, if presently empty, amphitheater. Five stacked rows comprising ninety seats formed one half of the bowl, while another ten—presumably reserved for councilors—formed their own miniature arc, facing the others upon a sort of stage. The arrangement made sense. It was councilors who drove their conversations, who could introduce new laws. Regular voting members, members like Elias, spoke only when spoken to.

One seat in particular had a higher back than the others, he noticed. The seat of the council chair, Elias assumed. It had barely been a day since he'd last connected with Bartholomew Grimsby, the soft-spoken industrialist who apparently controlled both halves of the world: the known and the unknown. The younger man had once pictured this council chair as the pinnacle of power, and yet Mr. Grimsby possessed even more than that.

Elias seated himself near the back, not wishing to stand out during his first legislative session. He would make a name for himself eventually, but today he was here to learn and not do anything too embarrassing.

Perhaps he had already failed that mission, sitting there by himself, waiting thirty minutes for the day's meeting to convene. He hoped he might form a few connections—that had been his value proposition to the Valshynar, after all—but the sitting members who finally started filing inside barely registered his existence.

At least he had worn his nicest shirt and caught up on sleep. Alas, what was an occasion for Elias appeared to be an obligation for everyone else in attendance. The only man who flashed an enigmatic smile in his direction was Mr. Grimsby, though a few scrutinizing glances settled on him as the room filled to capacity.

Elias scanned the chamber for more familiar faces, though most he could not put a name to. One exception was Edric Graystone, sitting two seats over from Mr. Grimsby. His presence was unexpected.

"Pleasant morning, everyone." The Trader's Guild's council chair raised a single hand, letting it fall only as their conversations faded to a courteous silence. "I now call this sitting to order," he declared as softly as a feather lands. "It appears we have a mostly full house this morning, along with a few fresh faces. Let us start there."

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Reading from a script, Mr. Grimsby introduced five other newly christened sitting members, all of whom placed ahead of Elias, before finishing on the recipient least likely to be here. "And last but not least, we have a recent Emerald Cup champion, Mr. Elias Vice of The Two Worlds Trading Company, now the ninety-ninth largest firm in the guild. Welcome to the House of Merchants, all of you."

Mr. Grimsby led a lackluster applause before thanking the six companies that had lost their seats for their years of service. There was more clapping.

"We have a full agenda today." The council chair flipped his page, and Elias heard the fluttering of everyone around him flipping their pages too, like a flock of birds taking flight. Unfortunately, he was a pigeon without wings, which is to say he did not have an agenda. It was obvious that he was supposed to have one. He'd had a whole thirty minutes in which to acquire the printed package. And yet.

"I should mention Mr. Edric Graystone will once again sit in for his father," Mr. Grimsby added, clarifying at least one question. "I'm told Arthur has taken ill, and we of course wish him a speedy recovery."

Indeed, time seemed to be a valuable commodity in the House of Merchants. As they rushed headlong through their full, tactile agendas, Elias felt like the child at a dinner table with adults, offered a steak with no cutlery. Because he was smart, he often made the mistake of thinking that being smart was enough. Unfortunately, his intelligence provided him no context for acronyms and abbreviations related to departments and bills he barely knew existed.

There was one suggestion, however, that Elias understood completely—and at whom it was aimed. "I would like to introduce a bill regarding the handover of seats to new sitting companies," Edric said, adjusting his chair to better face his audience.

Mr. Grimsby gestured for him to continue.

Edric spoke so that everyone could hear him clearly, including those in the back. "While I appreciate the open nature of our democratic system, there has long been a lack of oversight around who ultimately sits here. This could be remedied rather simply by putting invitations to a vote. If concerns arise, they can be discussed beforehand."

"A lack of oversight, as you call it, is precisely the point, my dear," interjected a fellow councilor Elias recognized as Ava Quinn, mother of Levi Quinn and (as of a year ago) mother-in-law of Abigail Graystone. Her family connection with Edric did not dull the sharp edge in her tone. "Power is corruptible," she went on. "We cannot place the reins of our system solely in the hands of men. We must trust in the institution that has served us well for over a century."

Mr. Grimsby very obviously agreed with her assessment, but that same system they believed in allowed for an open discussion on the matter. He simply added that "members must also be in good standing with the Trader's Guild."

"Anyone who pays their taxes is in good standing with the Trader's Guild," Edric shot back. "Good standing alone does not make a proper chief proprietor. What of his business dealings, his character? I'm told we had an issue with a previous member last year, whose good standing was revoked after the fact. Could that situation have been avoided with a little more… oversight?"

"With all due respect, Edric, while we appreciate your enthusiasm, I can count the number of times you've sat in this room on one hand," Ava said. "The situation you reference was complicated but, in the end, resolved."

By the way the two councilors glared at each another, one would not guess they attended the same family functions. Ava was as fashionable as her modish son, though she hardly looked old enough to have an adult child. If money could buy youth—and in Elias's experience, it could—the Quinn matriarch was evidently a very rich woman. Of course, her being on council confirmed that plainly enough.

As for Edric, ever was he reaching for the opposite: the appearance of age without the patience for time. He had shortened his sideburns and adopted a more conservative haircut in recent months, sporting an appearance appropriate for a councilor, appropriate for saying things such as: "I move we take this to a vote."

And so a vote it was. Mr. Grimsby put forward the question in an official manner and allowed sitting members a minute to raise, or not raise, their hands.

As hands went up—some of them a few inches before coming back down—Elias tried to read the room. He was surprised by the number raised in favor of Edric's proposal, and he quickly realized that every man and woman in this room wanted to hold onto that which they valued most, their power. Anything that might be weaponized to that end would always have a certain appeal.

Still, the vote failed by a difference of seven—one of which, Elias proudly recognized, was his own negative vote. He could see that Edric realized it too.

The issue, however, was not entirely dead. Another councilor who had voted in the affirmative put forward an alternative motion. "At the very least," she said, "new sitting companies should have their financial statements audited."

This suggestion earned a number of nods.

Though Ava's was not among them. "Audits sound fair and good, but they too can be wielded like a pistol. We do not audit guild members unless given ample grounds. New sitting companies are no exception. Such is the spirit of our system: to give no favor and erect no obstacle for any registered company, whether inside or outside this room. If we are to audit new members, should we not audit ourselves first?"

"Those who've previously served this guild have proven themselves already," Edric replied. "Auditing every sitting company would create work for no purpose, wasting Trader's Guild resources that could be put to better use. I, for one, appreciate the surgical precision of Councilor Hayden's proposal."

This earned the young Graystone a polite applause. Edric was not entirely terrible at this, as much as Elias loathed and disagreed with him. And thus, they had a second vote.

He watched more hesitant hands head for the high ceiling. And while his was not among them, he now found himself in the minority. Half the councilors and the council chair opposed the motion, but more than half of those in the upper seats voted in favor of the revised proposal: that new sitting members and new sitting members only, members such as Elias, would be audited before their annual term could be confirmed.

Edric looked pleased with himself. It was not his bill they had passed, but he had steered them in this direction. Perhaps he had learned the lesson Elias was late to learn himself: to take the victories life gives you with grace.

The latter man assumed The Two Worlds Trading Company's books were in order, but he could feel the barrel against his back.