Anwen stood at the edge of the bustling market square, her eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of excitement and fear coiling tightly around her. This was the day they would attempt their first independent trade—her trade. Liora's cousin, Thom, had managed to arrange a small shipment of goods, nothing too grand, but enough to test the waters.

Thom stood beside her, his appearance that of a modest trader with an unremarkable face and a calm demeanor. He was the perfect person for this venture—someone who could blend into the background, unnoticed by most, while carrying out his work with precision.

"Are you ready?" Thom asked quietly, his eyes flicking to Anwen.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the hood of her cloak to conceal her identity. "Yes," she whispered back. "We need to keep this quiet. My father can't know."

Thom gave a curt nod. "I've arranged the meeting with a small merchant from the eastern provinces. He's looking to establish new trade routes and has agreed to keep the deal discreet. It should go smoothly."

Anwen swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had gone over this plan a hundred times in her head, examining every detail and contingency. But the reality of the situation felt so much more precarious than she had anticipated. She had learned much from her secret sessions with Eamon, but this was different. This was real.

"Let’s go," Thom said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He began to move through the crowd, Anwen following a step behind. The market was alive with the sounds of haggling merchants, the clinking of coins, and the chatter of townsfolk. It was a place of constant motion, a web of interactions that made it both a perfect cover and a dangerous ground for their secret dealings.

They wound their way through the market until they reached a quieter corner, where a small tent had been set up. Inside, a man sat at a makeshift table, his expression guarded. He glanced up as they approached, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Thom," the man greeted with a nod. "And this must be your... associate?"

Thom inclined his head. "Yes. She will oversee the details of this transaction."

The man’s gaze flicked to Anwen, his expression neutral. He didn't ask for her name, a sign that he was indeed willing to keep things discreet. "I see," he said simply. "Well, then, let's get to it."

Anwen felt her nerves flare as they took their seats at the table. Thom began the negotiations, discussing the goods they had to offer and the terms of the trade. Anwen listened intently, her mind analyzing every word, every gesture. She had gone over the pricing, the market demand, and the potential profit margins in her head a thousand times. Now was her chance to put that knowledge into action.

When the man mentioned the price he was willing to pay, Anwen felt her heart leap. It was lower than what they had anticipated. She knew it was part of the negotiation process, but it was still a setback.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Thom glanced at her, waiting for her input. Anwen took a deep breath, steadying herself. "That's a fair starting point," she began, her voice calm and measured, "but considering the quality of the goods and the rarity of the materials used, we believe a higher price is warranted."

The merchant eyed her carefully, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but I need to make a profit as well. The eastern market is unpredictable. There are risks."

Anwen nodded, acknowledging his point. "True," she said, "but you also know that the demand for these goods is on the rise. If we can establish a stable trade route, the profit margins will increase over time. It's an investment for future gains, not just a one-time transaction."

The merchant leaned back in his chair, considering her words. There was a tense silence, the air around them heavy with the weight of negotiation. Anwen felt the seconds stretch into minutes, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Finally, the merchant leaned forward again. "Very well," he said. "We can adjust the price to meet somewhere in the middle. But I expect the quality to match your claims."

A wave of relief washed over Anwen, though she kept her face composed. "Agreed," she replied. "You won't be disappointed."

They shook hands to seal the deal, and Thom handed over the contract for the merchant to sign. Anwen felt a surge of triumph as the ink dried on the parchment. This was her first step toward independence, a small but significant victory.

As they exited the tent, Thom turned to her with a rare smile. "Well done," he said. "You handled that better than I expected."

Anwen couldn't help but smile back, though her relief was tinged with lingering anxiety. "Thank you," she said. "But this is just the beginning. We need to ensure the goods are delivered and that my father doesn't find out."

Thom's expression grew serious. "I'll handle the logistics. You just make sure your end is covered."

Anwen nodded. "I will," she promised.

They made their way back to her family's estate, careful to take separate paths to avoid suspicion. Anwen's heart pounded as she approached the entrance, hoping her absence hadn't been noticed. She slipped inside, moving quickly through the corridors to her father's study. As she approached, she heard his voice—angry and sharp.

She froze, her blood running cold.

"Anwen!" Lord Alistair's voice thundered from within the room. "Where have you been?"

Anwen took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm as she entered the study. Her father stood by his desk, his face a mask of fury.

"I was overseeing the inventory in the storeroom," she lied smoothly, praying he wouldn't see through her deception.

Lord Alistair narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident in his gaze. "You were gone longer than usual."

"I... needed to recount some items," she replied, her voice steady. "There were discrepancies in the records, and I wanted to ensure accuracy."

He stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching thin between them. Finally, he grunted and turned back to his papers. "See that it doesn't happen again. Your place is here, not wandering about."

Anwen nodded, relief flooding her as she backed out of the room. Once she was safely in the corridor, she let out a shaky breath. That had been too close. But it had worked. Her first trade, her first act of independence, was a success.

She made her way to her room, her mind racing. This was only the beginning. There were more risks to take, more obstacles to overcome. But now, she had a taste of what it felt like to take control of her destiny, and she wasn't about to let it go.

Anwen closed the door behind her and sat down at her desk, pulling out a blank sheet of parchment. She began to write, outlining her next moves, her plans to grow her business further. Thom would handle the front, but she would be the one orchestrating everything from the shadows.

For the first time in her life, she felt the stirrings of hope and excitement for the future—a future she would shape with her own hands.