Chapter 178: Seven Days

The first day passed without a single sack of clay arriving.

By the second morning, Aria had stopped asking whether the deliveries were delayed and started asking who was holding them.

She stood in the pottery workshop, watching workers finish the pieces they could make with the remaining clay. The kilns were running below capacity, and several worktables stood empty.

Nobody complained openly, but Aria noticed the questions people avoided asking.

Would they still receive their wages?

Would customers cancel their orders?

Would New Beginning survive another month of uncertainty?

She couldn’t promise that everything would be fine. She could promise that the council would know the truth before making decisions that affected everyone.

She returned to the council building, where Lucan had spread supplier records across the table.

"Three suppliers have delayed shipments," he reported. "Two are waiting for allocation decisions. The third says it has clay available but can’t confirm when transportation will be authorized."

"Can they sell to someone else?"

"Yes."

"Can they sell to us if we arrange our own transport?"

"Possibly. The problem is that the allocation restrictions apply to the materials, not just the delivery."

Aria pulled out a chair.

"So even if we find a cart, we might not be allowed to buy the clay."

"Correct."

Kelme entered carrying a plate of bread.

"I have an idea."

Everyone looked at him.

"We could make pottery out of bread."

Martha stared at him.

"Would you like to explain how that works?"

"No. I was hoping one of you knew."

Aria rubbed her forehead.

"Please find a useful idea before lunch."

"I’ll do my best."

He sat down and began eating.

Aria spent the morning reviewing the contracts.

The Authority’s temporary instruction prevented the immediate reassignment of certain materials already listed for review. It did not guarantee that suppliers could release additional stock, nor did it automatically restore deliveries that had already been delayed.

That distinction mattered.

New Beginning had protected what it already possessed, but it had not secured what it needed next.

Aria wrote three headings on a sheet of paper:

Available. Committed. Restricted.

Every supplier would be asked to identify which category applied to their stock.

Available materials could potentially be purchased.

Committed materials were already promised to other customers.

Restricted materials were subject to an allocation decision or other official limitation.

It was a simple system, but it would stop them from treating every reported stockpile as something they could actually buy.

Lucan examined the sheet.

"This will help us compare suppliers."

"And identify whether the problem is real scarcity or administrative restrictions."

"Careful," he said. "Those aren’t always mutually exclusive."

"I know. That’s why we’re checking."

She looked at the ledger containing the supplier names.

"I want written answers. How much clay do they have? How much is already committed? Which deliveries are delayed? And what document prevents them from releasing the stock?"

Lucan nodded.

"I’ll contact them today."

"Good. We need evidence, not rumors."

That afternoon, a letter arrived from Director Elira Voss.

The Authority had completed its preliminary review of the first reassignment.

Aria opened it at the council table.

The decision acknowledged that the Materials Office had redirected New Beginning’s one hundred and twenty sacks of clay to compensate for the Eastern Corridor project’s transportation delay.

It also acknowledged that the original contract had not been reviewed before the reassignment.

However, the Authority had not yet approved compensation.

Instead, it requested additional documents showing the financial impact of the delay.

Kelme read over Aria’s shoulder.

"They took the clay, admitted they shouldn’t have handled it that way, and now want us to prove it caused a problem."

"They want us to quantify the loss," Aria replied.

"Isn’t the missing clay the problem?"

"That’s part of it. We also need to document delayed orders, additional transportation costs, and any penalties our customers impose."

Martha pulled a chair closer.

"Then we’ll prepare the records."

Aria nodded.

She wasn’t pleased, but the written acknowledgment was important. It established what had happened and confirmed that the Authority recognized the missing review.

She drafted a response listing the outstanding costs and attached the original contract.

Before sending it, she added one sentence:

New Beginning reserves the right to challenge any future reassignment that disregards existing contractual obligations.

She read it twice.

Then she signed.

On the fourth day, Lucan returned with news.

"One supplier has offered us sixty sacks."

Aria looked up immediately.

"Available stock?"

"Yes. Their records show that the clay isn’t committed to another buyer."

"Restrictions?"

"They’ve requested confirmation from the Materials Office that the stock can be sold to us."

"Price?"

"Higher than our previous contract."

"How much higher?"

Lucan told her.

Aria calculated the difference on paper.

The price was unpleasant, but not impossible. If the clay arrived promptly, it could allow them to fulfill their most urgent orders.

However, buying it would reduce their reserve funds and leave less money available for wages, repairs, and other emergencies.

She took the figures to the council.

"We have three options," she explained. "We can buy the sixty sacks at the higher price, continue reducing production until our regular deliveries resume, or divide the purchase into smaller quantities and negotiate with the supplier."

Martha favored buying the full amount.

"If we stop production for too long, we risk losing our customers."

Duke disagreed.

"If we spend too much on materials, we may struggle to pay wages if another shipment is delayed."

Lucan suggested negotiating a partial delivery immediately, with the remaining stock released once the Authority confirmed the allocation.

Aria listened to each argument.

Then she asked the council to vote.

They agreed to purchase thirty sacks immediately, provided the supplier received written authorization to release them. The remaining thirty would be negotiated separately.

It wasn’t enough to restore full production.

But it was enough to keep the most urgent orders moving without emptying the reserve.

Aria sent the offer that afternoon.

For the first time in days, she had a practical solution that did not depend entirely on the Authority changing its policies.

On the fifth day, the supplier replied.

The thirty sacks could be released.

But there was a condition.

The buyer had to sign a declaration acknowledging that the materials might be subject to future emergency allocation orders.

Aria read the declaration in silence.

Kelme leaned over her shoulder.

"Is that normal?"

"Not in our previous contracts."

"Can we refuse?"

"Yes."

"Then refuse."

Aria looked at him.

"It’s not that simple. If we refuse, we lose the shipment. If we sign, we accept uncertainty that could make future deliveries difficult to challenge."

"Sounds like a terrible contract."

"It might be. But I need to know exactly what it allows before deciding."

She asked Lucan to contact the supplier and request clarification.

The supplier responded that the declaration was a standard form issued following the emergency notice. It did not transfer ownership of materials already delivered, but it acknowledged that future stock could be affected by lawful allocation orders.

That was more specific than the original wording, but it still left important questions unanswered.

Aria took the document to the council.

They agreed not to sign immediately.

Instead, Lucan would negotiate a narrower declaration applying only to the thirty sacks being purchased, with no waiver of their rights under the existing agreement.

If the supplier refused, they would consider other options.

Aria was learning that sometimes the most important part of a business deal wasn’t the price.

It was the sentence everyone wanted her to sign without reading.

On the sixth day, Cassian Vale arrived in New Beginning.

He came without an inspection team and carried a thin folder.

"I wanted to update you before the temporary hold expires," he said.

Aria invited him into the council building.

"Have the proposed reassignments been reviewed?"

"Most of them. The Materials Office has agreed that existing contracts must be considered before additional materials are redirected. However, the Authority has not yet adopted a permanent procedure."

"Will our supplies remain protected after tomorrow?"

"The current instruction can be extended if the review requires more time."

"Has that extension been approved?"

"Not yet."

Aria folded her arms.

"Then we still don’t know what happens tomorrow."

Cassian accepted the criticism.

"No. But I can tell you something else. Your case has exposed a wider problem. Several businesses have submitted similar complaints."

"Because their materials were redirected?"

"Some were. Others were told to hold stock without receiving a final allocation order. The Authority is trying to distinguish between legitimate emergency requirements and administrative decisions made too quickly."

Aria considered that.

"Will the businesses receive compensation?"

"That depends on each case."

"And will suppliers be allowed to release uncommitted stock?"

"That’s part of the review."

She studied him.

"Is the Authority actually changing its process, or are you trying to convince us to wait quietly?"

Cassian met her gaze.

"I’m telling you what has changed and what hasn’t. The temporary hold is real. The wider procedure remains unresolved."

It was the most honest answer she’d received all week.

Aria nodded.

"Then I’ll continue preparing our records."

Before leaving, Cassian handed her a copy of the latest review summary.

It confirmed that the Authority was considering a standardized declaration for suppliers operating during the emergency.

Aria read the final section.

The proposed declaration would allow the Authority to request information about available stock, committed materials, and delivery schedules.

That part seemed reasonable.

But another clause would permit the Authority to designate certain suppliers as priority providers, potentially placing additional obligations on their future deliveries.

Aria set the document down.

"They’re solving one problem while preparing another."

Cassian didn’t deny it.

"Emergency rules tend to expand when the people writing them believe the emergency will continue."

"And shrink when?"

"When someone demonstrates why they should."

He left her with that answer.

On the seventh morning, the council gathered before the temporary hold expired.

Lucan had negotiated the release of thirty sacks of clay under a narrower declaration. The supplier had confirmed that the materials were uncommitted and that the purchase would not waive New Beginning’s rights under its existing contracts.

The shipment was scheduled to leave once transportation was arranged.

It wasn’t a complete solution, but it was progress.

Aria placed the supplier’s agreement beside the Authority’s review summary.

"We have two things to do today," she said. "First, secure an extension of the temporary hold. Second, submit our evidence and request a final decision on compensation."

Martha nodded.

"And if they refuse?"

"Then we decide what to do with the information we have. We can challenge a refusal, negotiate with suppliers, or reduce production further. But we won’t sign away our independence just because we’re under pressure."

The council approved the plan.

Aria prepared the request and sent it to the regional office.

By midday, the answer arrived.

The Authority had extended the temporary hold for another seven days while it reviewed the outstanding contracts.

The letter also confirmed that no additional materials listed in the current review would be reassigned without written justification and notification, except in circumstances requiring immediate action.

Aria read the document carefully.

It wasn’t the permanent protection she wanted.

But it was a meaningful change.

The Authority had acknowledged the problem, extended the review, and accepted that businesses needed clear reasons before their supplies could be redirected.

For the moment, New Beginning had room to breathe.

Kelme entered the council building with a grin.

"So, are we rich again?"

"No."

"Are we safe?"

"Not entirely."

"Have we at least become famous?"

Aria looked up from the letter.

"Why would that help?"

"People might buy pottery from a famous settlement."

Martha laughed.

Aria shook her head, but the tension in the room finally eased.

They had spent a week fighting over materials, contracts, and decisions made in offices far from their workshops.

They hadn’t solved everything.

But they had secured a shipment, protected their existing supplies, and forced the Authority to reconsider how it treated private contracts.

That was worth something.

Then Lucan entered carrying another document.

This one bore the seal of the Northern Trade Authority’s Strategic Infrastructure Department.

"I think you should read this before celebrating," he said.

Aria took it.

The document announced a new review of commercial facilities located along the Eastern Corridor.

Its stated purpose was to identify businesses essential to regional construction and emergency supply.

New Beginning’s pottery workshop and storage facility had been included.

Aria read the notice twice.

This wasn’t another request to redirect clay.

It was a review of what the settlement itself might be required to provide in the future.

At the bottom of the page was a sentence she had learned to distrust.

Designated facilities may be subject to additional production, storage, and distribution obligations during a declared emergency.

Kelme looked at her.

"Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means."

Aria folded the notice.

"I don’t know what it means yet."

She placed it beside the other documents.

"But tomorrow, we’re going to find out."