The city of Velmire woke to uncertainty. Dawn stretched across the slums, painting the rooftops with a pale golden hue, but the streets remained tense. A quiet fear clung to the air, not yet solidified into panic but close—the kind of fear that came when power began to shift.
Rumors had spread overnight, whispers of Dorn's rebellion striking against Gorran's men. Some claimed entire factions had turned against the crime lord. Others said Dorn had gathered an army in the dark corners of the city, waiting for the right moment to strike.
None of it was entirely true.
But none of it was entirely false either.
Aedric stood on the balcony of their hideout, watching the streets below. Even from this vantage point, he could see the change. The usual flow of morning traffic—workers trudging to jobs they despised, merchants setting up stalls, beggars searching for scraps—was slower, more cautious. People whispered in hushed tones, eyes darting toward alleys and doorways as if expecting a fight to break out at any moment.
Lirian joined him, leaning against the railing. "It's working."
Aedric gave a slight nod. "It's beginning."
She smirked. "Same thing."
Below them, a group of men gathered near a vendor, speaking in low voices. Aedric recognized a few of them—former enforcers of smaller gangs that Gorran had absorbed over the years. They had once worked under him out of necessity, but now… they seemed uncertain.
Lirian followed his gaze. "They're waiting."
"For what?"
"For someone to tell them what happens next."
Aedric knew she was right. Dorn's attack had shaken the foundations of Gorran's control, but it was still just a tremor. The real shift would come when more people acted—not just talked.
And for that to happen, they needed to push further.
---
Inside the hideout, Varen and Tessa were already at work. The table was covered in scattered parchment—maps of the city, lists of names, notes detailing movement patterns of Gorran's enforcers. Everything they had gathered over the past weeks.
Varen glanced up as Aedric entered. "It's happening faster than I expected."
Tessa chuckled, sharpening a dagger absentmindedly. "People love a good rebellion."
Aedric moved to the table, scanning the maps. "Dorn's men need reinforcements. The first step worked, but we can't let them falter." His fingers traced a particular district on the map, one closer to the river. "Gorran's men still hold most of the trade routes here. That's his backbone. If we weaken it, we force him to stretch himself thin."
Varen frowned. "That means more direct fights. Dorn's not ready for that."
Aedric met his gaze. "Then we make sure he is."
Lirian dropped into a chair, tilting her head. "Let me guess. Another 'accident'?"
Aedric smiled slightly. "Something like that."
---
By nightfall, they were moving again.
The warehouse district near the river was one of the most valuable pieces of territory in Velmire. It wasn't just about money—it was about control. Gorran's men used these docks to smuggle weapons, rare goods, and sometimes people. Cutting off even a fraction of that supply line would force him to divert resources—resources he needed to suppress the growing unrest.
Their target was a specific warehouse—one known for storing contraband. If Dorn's men could take it, they wouldn't just gain supplies. They would gain proof that Gorran was slipping.
Aedric and his group took their positions, staying in the shadows as they observed from a distance. Dorn's men, now emboldened, were preparing to strike. Their numbers were still small, but their movements were more confident than before.
Lirian watched with a raised eyebrow. "They don't look as hesitant anymore."
Aedric nodded. "They've seen what's possible."
Varen exhaled, watching the scene unfold. "Then let's make sure they don't fail."
---
The attack began just before midnight.
Dorn's men approached from the alleyways, their footsteps barely audible against the damp ground. They moved in pairs, weapons drawn, faces set with determination.
The warehouse was guarded, but not as heavily as it should have been. Gorran's men were getting careless.
Tessa moved first, slipping through the darkness like a ghost. Aedric watched as she approached one of the guards stationed near the entrance—a quick movement, a blade against the throat, and the man crumpled without a sound.
A second guard was taken down moments later.
The door creaked open.
Dorn's men moved in, securing the entryway before advancing deeper inside. The warehouse was filled with crates and barrels—contraband from across the continent. Weapons, illicit potions, rare enchanted goods. All of it proof of Gorran's corruption.
The real fight began when the remaining guards inside noticed the intruders.
Steel clashed against steel, shouts echoing in the confined space. Dorn's men fought fiercely, their strikes desperate but determined. Some hesitated, unaccustomed to true battle, but as the fight continued, that hesitation burned away.
Aedric stayed at the edge of the battle, watching carefully. This was the real test.
Dorn himself fought at the front, his blade cutting through the chaos. He wasn't the strongest fighter, but he fought like a man with something to prove.
Minutes stretched, but the outcome was clear.
Dorn's men were winning.
When the last of Gorran's enforcers collapsed, silence settled over the warehouse. Dorn wiped the sweat from his brow, looking around. His men, though injured, stood victorious.
Lirian smirked. "Well, that was fun."
Aedric stepped forward, his voice steady. "Now comes the hard part."
Dorn turned to him, breathing heavily. "Which is?"
Aedric gestured to the crates. "Making sure everyone knows you won."
---
The next morning, the slums buzzed with a new story.
Dorn's men had seized one of Gorran's warehouses. And they had proof.
Weapons, goods—all of it was now in Dorn's hands. The victory wasn't just about supplies. It was a symbol.
People who had once been too afraid to choose sides were beginning to see the truth.
Gorran wasn't invincible.
And for the first time in years, the balance of power in Velmire had begun to shift.