Chapter 29, AIA

The damp, metallic scent of the mine still clung to Owen's skin as he emerged from its depths, the rough-hewn walls behind him receding into darkness. The lanterns scattered along the cavern's entrance flickered, their dying flames casting distorted shadows across the uneven ground. As he stepped forward, the crisp night air met him, carrying the distant hum of the Apollo County industrial sector—the rhythmic pulse of a city always in motion.

Standing in the path ahead, unwavering as stone, was a figure whose presence demanded immediate attention. His black uniform was immaculate, the fabric catching the faint glow of the overhead street lights, but the thing that caught Owen's real attention was the identification card clipped meticulously to his coat.

It was polished and rigid, bearing the insignia of Apollo Group—a golden sun embossed in the top right corner, its surface catching the light with a regal brilliance. Below it, a stark inscription read AIA—Apollo Intelligence Agency.

Centered on the card, his name stood etched in firm, unwavering lettering: Special Agent Anthony James Allwin. Beneath it, the formal designation confirmed his status: Apollo Intelligence Agency Operative.

The air around him carried an undeniable tension, a quiet urgency that was amplified by the sharp, deliberate edge in his voice as he finally spoke. "Sir Owen, the intelligence branch has uncovered vital new information. Your presence is required at the upcoming briefing."

No pleasantries. No hesitation. He had come with a singular purpose. Owen met his gaze—a piercing stare devoid of uncertainty. This was serious. Whatever had been discovered was not something to be delayed.

Owen exhaled sharply, giving a curt nod. "Lead the way." With practiced efficiency, they departed, each step measured as they moved through the dimly lit streets toward the newly completed AIA Headquarters.

The building was a towering monolith against the skyline—an architectural marvel of reinforced steel and tinted glass. It stood as a bastion of Caledon intelligence operations, a fortress built for secrecy and control. Though only finished a week ago, its presence already commanded absolute authority, its design both utilitarian and unyielding.

Inside, the air was cool, sterile. The corridors were wide but devoid of unnecessary adornments—every inch of space designed for efficiency. Operatives moved with calculated precision, each stride carrying them to destinations known only to those who had clearance. Murmurs of classified information passed between them in hushed voices, exchanged like currency between minds trained to dissect truth from deception.

Owen was led into the main briefing room, where a singular figure sat in quiet command. At the head of the elongated table, posture unwavering, expression sharp, was Lily—Director of the AIA (DAIA), the highest-ranking leader of the Apollo Intelligence Agency.

Her reputation preceded her. Ruthlessly intelligent, methodical, and unshaken by uncertainty, Lily's command of the intelligence sector was absolute. She met Owen's gaze with calculated precision before speaking. "We've identified the culprits," she stated, each syllable landing with unmistakable weight.

The room fell into silence—waiting, absorbing. "Three nobles—Henry Owden, Cartier James, and Leon Teriona. They have systematically sabotaged our economy. Trade routes were obstructed. Legal documents intercepted and halted. Carefully curated propaganda disseminated to the public to sow distrust."

She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle. "Their collective actions have resulted in a staggering 45% decline in the value of the Apollo Companies." The number was sharp, like a blade dragged across unprotected skin. Not a minor setback. Not a temporary dip. This was deliberate economic warfare.

Owen's fingers pressed against the armrest of his chair, tension coiling beneath his skin. This wasn't just an attack on infrastructure or business logistics—this was an attempt to cripple Caledon's economic stronghold.

An act of defiance.

A calculated challenge.

Owen inhaled, locking his thoughts into place. The rules of engagement had changed. But if the opposition thought they would crumble under the pressure, they had gravely underestimated the resilience of the Caledon foundation.

The weight of Lily's words settled over the room like a dense fog, suffocating in its implications. A 45% decline—a calculated wound, meant to cripple. This wasn't the work of reckless dissenters or opportunistic rivals. No, this was deliberate. Orchestrated.

And the architects of their downfall had names. Henry Owden. Cartier James. Leon Teriona. Nobles. Men of power. But not untouchable.

Owen leaned forward, fingers interlacing as he absorbed the depth of the intelligence report before him. The Apollo Companies had long been the backbone of economic stability—spanning industries from infrastructure to finance. To weaken it so effectively required a convergence of forces—a disruption of critical trade routes, a manipulation of bureaucratic processes, and a war of perception in the public eye.

It was more than financial sabotage.

It was an assault on trust.

Owen exhaled slowly, controlling the flood of thoughts surging in his mind. Across the table, Lily watched him with an unwavering gaze, her posture disciplined, the weight of leadership settled effortlessly on her shoulders. Around them, Apollo Intelligence operatives stood poised, each awaiting the next directive—the next step in this unfolding war.

"What is their endgame?" Owen asked finally, his voice even but firm.

Lily adjusted the documents in front of her, bringing up detailed reports—shifting maps of disrupted supply chains, intercepted communications, financial projections spiraling downward.

"Power consolidation." Her tone carried no uncertainty. "Owden, James, and Teriona are leveraging instability. With Apollo weakened, their competing interests will strengthen—new trade monopolies, new financial networks built atop the chaos. If they succeed, Apollo Group will lose its influence over the larger economy."

A bitter calculation. Ruthless. Effective.

They weren't merely enemies—they were strategists.

Lily continued. "Our intelligence indicates that Owden has taken direct control of several key ports along the Eastern Trade Passage. James has stalled critical legislation, blocking contracts that would stabilize Apollo's Credits presence. And Teriona—he's leading the public manipulation. Coordinated press campaigns. Public figures denouncing our operations. Even leaked 'insider reports' painting Apollo as corrupt and unstable."

The pieces of the puzzle aligned. Disrupt the foundation. Control the narrative. Force Apollo into submission. Lily's gaze sharpened. "We need a response. Swift. Precise. We let this fester, and we might never be able to recover the Caledon economy."

Owen glanced toward Anthony James Allwin, still standing near the entrance, his face unreadable, but his presence unwavering. "What assets do we have in play?" Owen asked. Allwin stepped forward,

"We have three major fronts. First: Financial Countermeasures. We've already initiated buybacks to stabilize Apollo's holdings, but we'll need a broader strategy to mitigate losses. Second: Infrastructure Defense. We have agents positioned along key routes and have new routes being built, but if the nobles push further, we may need to deploy intervention teams. And third—" He paused, his gaze tightening. "Public Narrative Control. We need to shift perception. Fast. We have intelligence analysts working to expose the nobles' involvement, but there are risks. If we move too early, they'll deny everything. We need irrefutable proof before we go public."

Owen nodded, considering the options before him. Time was against them, and the nobles had been careful, methodical. The wrong move could worsen the crisis.

But the right move—executed with precision—could turn the tide. Owen turned back to Lily. "We hit them where it hurts." Her lips curled into the faintest hint of approval. "Then let's get to work."