Chapter 4 - Blood and Ledger

The private solar of the Rowanvale estate smelled of old parchment, damp cedar, and the cold salt spray that blew off the harbor below the cliffs. It was a room where kings had signed away continents and merchants had ruined dynasties with the stroke of a quill.
Elias sat at the heavy mahogany desk, his shoulders still aching from the dragon's weight, though the soot had been scrubbed from his face. He wore a clean wool tunic—borrowed from one of the royal pages, slightly too tight across the chest—and his heavy meteoric hammer leaned against the wainscot behind his chair like an uninvited guest who refused to leave.
The heavy oak doors swung open, and Princess Lyra walked in, carrying a tray with two silver cups of steaming black tea and a stack of leather-bound folios thick enough to stop a bullet.
"The bankers are threatening to lock the exchange," she said, setting the tray down with a sharp clack. She didn't look like a terrified royal princess; she looked like a general inspecting the commissariat before a winter siege. "Vane has already sent riders to the military garrison at Fort Ironwood, trying to convince the general that you're a revolutionary impostor sent by the offshore trading syndicates."
"Let them send riders," Elias said, taking a cup of tea. His hands were steady now, though the leather wraps were still stained with coal dust. "Fort Ironwood hasn't received its supply budget in six months. The quartermaster's letters are in the bottom drawer of that desk. Vane has been pocketing the grain tariffs to pay off his gambling debts in the upper city."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, pulling out one of the ledgers and flipping through the yellowed pages covered in neat, cramped ink. "You've been busy for an apprentice smith."
"When you work twelve-hour shifts next to the municipal dock office, you hear things," Elias said quietly. "Dockworkers don't care about royal secrets. They care about whether their pay is copper or lead. Vane paid them in lead for three years. They gave me the copies."
"My father is weakening," Lyra said, her voice dropping a fraction of an octave, losing its sharp edge. She sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at him with those deep, plum-colored eyes. "The poison they've been slipping into his evening wine for the past year is slow. It doesn't kill quickly; it just makes him forget things—like who signed the trust agreements, or which ledger belongs to the crown and which belongs to Vey’s shipping cartel."
"Garron wasn't acting alone," Elias said. "The dragon-bone clasp he wore—that's not a royal military decoration. It's the crest of the North Coast Mercantile Trust. They funded the coup twenty years ago against my uncle, and they've been running the harbor tolls ever since."
"Which means," Lyra finished, leaning closer, "if we audit the main vault at dawn as my father promised, we won't just find gold. We'll find the deeds to half the city—including the land this palace is built on."
Before Elias could answer, a sharp, frantic knocking echoed against the heavy oak doors.
Before they could call out, the door flew open. It was young page boy Peter, breathless, his uniform jacket half-buttoned, his face pale as lard.
"My Lord! My Princess!" the boy gasped, clutching the doorframe for support. "They're moving the iron guards! Chancellor Vane has declared a state of emergency under the Riot Act. He’s surrounded the lower harbor forge with three companies of city pikemen. They're smashing the equipment—they say they're searching for unregistered contraband weapons!"
Elias stood up so fast his chair tipped backward, hitting the wainscot with a loud crash. The meteoric hammer was in his hand before the wood even hit the floor.
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"My forge," Elias said, his voice dropping into a register that made the room feel twenty degrees colder. "That's where my mother's tools are."
"They're not just smashing the forge, Elias," Peter gasped, tears welling in his eyes. "They've locked my mother inside the tool shed. They say if you don't surrender the hammer and renounce your claim by midnight, they're going to put the torch to the whole block."