Chapter 21: Whispers of Ambition

The night air carried a heavy stillness, the kind that signaled a shift in the city's balance. In the wake of Vask's death, the streets of Velmire were alive with murmurs—fragments of speculation and fear that passed from one shadow to the next. Everyone knew something had changed. They just didn't know how deep the wound truly ran.

Aedric leaned against the rough stone wall of the safe house, staring into the flickering candlelight on the wooden table before him. Lirian, Varen, and Tessa sat nearby, their expressions serious, their minds already working through the next steps.

"We know Dorn is a likely candidate," Aedric said at last. "But the question is: does he know that yet?"

Tessa tapped her fingers against the table, her gaze distant. "He's smart. He won't rush to grab power outright, not while there's still blood drying on the stones." She glanced at Aedric. "We need to make him see the opportunity."

Varen grunted. "And how exactly do we do that?"

Aedric let a small smirk creep onto his lips. "We stir the pot."

Lirian sat up, intrigued. "Go on."

"We spread rumors. Let word slip that Gorran is already looking for Vask's killer and that he doesn't trust his own men anymore. We plant doubt—make it seem like he's considering cutting the weak links before they turn on him."

Tessa caught on quickly. "And when Dorn hears that?"

"He'll feel the pressure," Aedric said. "He'll start thinking he might be next on the chopping block. And the moment he starts doubting Gorran's control—"

"He'll start looking for his own way to the top," Lirian finished, a knowing grin spreading across her face.

Varen gave a thoughtful nod. "If we do this right, we won't need to push Dorn into action. He'll make the first move on his own."

Aedric exhaled. "Then let's get to work."

---

The slums of Velmire were a maze of filth and desperation, where information was as valuable as gold and trust was a currency few could afford. Aedric moved through the winding streets, hood pulled low, ears tuned to the sounds of the city.

He didn't need to force rumors into existence. They were already beginning to form on their own.

At a dimly lit gambling den, a group of thugs muttered over their drinks.

"—Vask gone, just like that?"

"Can't believe it. That bastard was a monster."

"Gorran's got to be pissed."

Aedric sat at the bar, feigning disinterest as he listened. He leaned toward the barkeep, slipping a few coins onto the counter.

"Heard Gorran's losing his grip," he said casually.

The barkeep glanced at the money, then at Aedric, before letting out a short laugh. "You're not the only one. People are saying he's paranoid—don't trust his own men anymore."

Aedric hummed thoughtfully. "If that's true, then his lieutenants must be getting nervous."

The barkeep shrugged, but Aedric could see it in his eyes—the thought had already taken root.

That was enough.

He downed the rest of his drink and slipped away before he could be asked any more questions.

---

Elsewhere, Lirian had taken a different approach.

She perched at the edge of a shadowed rooftop, watching the entrance of one of Gorran's warehouses. A cluster of enforcers lingered outside, speaking in hushed tones. She couldn't hear the exact words, but she could see the worry in their posture.

Good.

She moved down, slipping through the alleys until she reached a familiar doorway. A quick knock, a pause, and then the door creaked open.

A sharp-eyed man greeted her with a wary stare.

"Lirian," he muttered. "Didn't expect you here."

She smirked. "You never expect me, Valen. That's what makes this so fun."

Valen sighed, stepping aside. "What do you want?"

Lirian sauntered in, taking in the dimly lit room—a storage house repurposed into a smuggler's den. Crates lined the walls, and a handful of men sat around a table, rolling dice.

"I'm here to talk," she said, leaning against a crate. "Word is, Gorran's starting to doubt his own men."

Valen frowned. "Who told you that?"

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? What matters is that people are talking. And once doubt spreads…" She let the sentence linger.

One of the men at the table scoffed. "Tch. Gorran's still got the biggest fists in the city. No one's stupid enough to challenge him."

Lirian raised an eyebrow. "Not even Dorn?"

A silence settled over the room.

Valen exhaled slowly. "You think Dorn would go against Gorran?"

Lirian smirked. "I think if you believe he would, then others might start believing it too."

Valen muttered a curse under his breath.

That was all she needed.

---

By the time they regrouped at the safe house, the city was already beginning to shift. The idea had been planted. Now, they had to wait.

Varen leaned against the table, arms crossed. "It's working. I heard two separate groups talking about how Gorran doesn't trust his own men anymore."

Tessa nodded. "And I heard rumors about Dorn being seen meeting with people in secret."

Lirian grinned. "Good. That means he's feeling the pressure."

Aedric drummed his fingers against the wooden table, deep in thought. "Now, we watch. If Dorn makes his move, we need to be ready."

Tessa frowned. "And if he doesn't?"

Aedric's expression darkened. "Then we give him a reason to."

The tension in the room thickened. They were playing a dangerous game now—one that could tip the scales of the city's underworld in their favor.

But only if they played it right.

Aedric rose, eyes sharp with determination.

"The pieces are moving," he said. "Now, we wait for the first one to fall."