The atmosphere in Brownfort's inner courtyard was electric.
Soldiers carried countless heavy chests out of the storerooms and stacked them neatly in the center of the courtyard.
On the battlements, Taicho Nestoris pulled his outer robe tighter around himself and watched the scene, his eyes full of confusion.
He walked over to Suleiman, who stood with his hands behind his back, looking out over the inner courtyard.
"Lord Suleiman," the banker began mildly. "Forgive my presumption, but what is all this for?"
"Master Taicho, do you know what it means to ride an irresistible tide?"
Suleiman did not turn around. His gaze remained on the neatly arranged chests, his voice calm and steady.
Taicho Nestoris froze. He turned the phrase over in his mind, only growing more puzzled.
Suleiman turned his head, a gentle, knowing smile curling his lips.
"Power means holding the high ground. Like a boulder rolling down a mountain, you follow the momentum. Who would dare stand in your way? Who would dare defy you?"
Suleiman extended a hand, pointing at the chests in the courtyard, then at himself, and finally at the endless campfires outside Duskold Town in the distance.
"A lion rules the beasts not because it is merciful by nature, but because it has sharp claws and fangs."
"If a lion loses its claws, has its fangs pulled out, and finds itself stranded on an open plain..."
"Then even the lowliest mouse can torment it at will and gnaw at its flesh."
Taicho Nestoris was even more confused. He could not understand what these chests had to do with claws, fangs, or irresistible tides.
This young man always spoke in riddles, yet somehow always seemed to mean something profound.
Suleiman saw his confusion. His gentle smile remained unchanged, carrying the composure of someone who