CHAPTER 6: THE FIRST HURDLE

The ink on Seraphina's contract with Gideon Malkov had barely dried before the whispers began.

Merchants gossiped in the city squares. Minor nobles exchanged wary glances at evening salons. The name Liora, long thought forgotten, was beginning to resurface.

And not everyone was pleased.

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A Noble House Takes Notice

In the private study of Marquis Valen Ravencourt, a tense discussion unfolded.

"She's making her move," murmured Lady Evelyne Ravencourt, tossing a letter onto the desk. "Merchants are beginning to side with her."

Valen leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "I underestimated her," he admitted. "Most assumed House Liora was finished, yet here she is, forcing the nobility to take notice."

Evelyne scoffed. "Are you impressed?"

"I am." His lips curved slightly. "But admiration does not mean inaction."

He turned to a waiting servant. "Send word to Master Hargrove and our other business contacts. House Liora must find that every path forward is blocked."

That night, letters were sent across the city—subtle warnings, veiled threats, strategic delays.

By morning, Seraphina would find her path far more difficult than she expected.

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The First Signs of Resistance

Seraphina sat in her study, rereading the coldly worded letter from Master Hargrove, the head of a prominent textile guild.

> Lady Liora,

I regret to inform you that, due to unforeseen circumstances, we will be unable to supply your estate with the requested materials. Furthermore, our contracts are fully committed to existing partnerships at this time.

Respectfully,

Master Hargrove

Seraphina's eyes darkened. A lie.

She had personally confirmed that Hargrove's warehouses were overflowing with fine silks and woven fabrics. Someone had gotten to him first.

Elise, reading over her shoulder, scowled. "They're trying to isolate you, my lady."

Seraphina folded the letter carefully. "Then we find another way."

That evening, she attended a gathering of merchants at a lavish estate. The room buzzed with deals and negotiations, but as she approached, conversations grew quieter.

A test. Would she retreat?

Instead, she stepped forward, engaging one merchant after another—reminding them of House Liora's former prestige, the opportunities she could offer, and the dangers of betting against her too soon.

By the end of the night, a few merchants had cautiously agreed to business, though in small amounts. It wasn't a full victory, but it was a foothold.

And a foothold was all she needed.

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A Public Challenge

Just as Seraphina was about to take her leave, a voice rang out from the center of the hall.

"My, my. How bold."

She turned to see Lord Cedric Whitmore, a lesser noble under House Ravencourt, leaning lazily against a marble pillar. His voice was pleasant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

"To think that House Liora would return from the grave to beg for scraps." He tilted his wine glass. "Tell me, Lady Seraphina, do you truly believe anyone here will risk their fortunes on a fallen house?"

A murmur rippled through the room. Some looked away, unwilling to be dragged into the exchange. Others watched with interest, waiting to see how she would respond.

Seraphina met his gaze without flinching. "And yet, Lord Whitmore, despite your words, you find yourself speaking of House Liora as though it still holds weight."

He chuckled. "A fair point. But words mean little without power."

Seraphina smiled, slow and deliberate. "Power, my lord, is not always in the hands of those who boast the loudest." She turned, addressing the room at large. "Tonight, I came not to demand loyalty but to remind you—House Liora built this city's wealth long before others rose to prominence. To align with me is not a risk but an investment in what is inevitable."

A hush fell over the crowd. Whitmore's smirk faltered, and a few merchants nodded subtly in her direction.

One of them, Master Laurent, an elderly jeweler, stepped forward. "Lady Liora speaks wisely. I remember the prosperity of her house. It would be unwise to dismiss her too soon."

His words carried weight. A few other merchants hesitated, then murmured their agreement.

Seraphina inclined her head. "I appreciate your wisdom, Master Laurent. Perhaps we should discuss further opportunities in private."

Whitmore frowned but said nothing, realizing that pressing further would only make him look like a desperate lackey. He downed his wine and stepped back into the crowd.

Seraphina's heart pounded, but she kept her expression serene. Tonight had not been a sweeping victory, but it had been a step forward.

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