Chapter 169: The Failed Agreement

The journey to Stormvale Pack had taken nearly half a day.

Jaime had spent most of it in wolf form, running at the front of the small group of guards assigned to accompany him. The others followed closely behind, their paws hitting the earth in steady rhythm as the landscape gradually changed.

IronRidge territory was rich in ironwood and fertile grazing lands, but Stormvale had something IronRidge needed even more.

Salt.

For years, the two Packs had maintained one of the most profitable trade agreements in the northern territories. IronRidge supplied weapons, iron, medicinal herbs, and timber, while Stormvale supplied salt, preserved meat, and rare minerals extracted from the deep caves beneath their territory.

But the agreement was expiring, and this time, Jaime had been chosen to negotiate the renewal himself. His father had specifically asked him to even write the agreement himself, and when Augustus had asked that of him, Jaime had felt... honoured.

As simple as it seemed, it was a huge deal.

Augustus usually took care of important deals like this on his own, so calling like this aside and asking him to handle it instead felt like a test.

One he was going to pass.

He had escorted his father to many of these kinds of deals. Stormvale and IronRidge had no issue with each other — he would simply be renewing the expired agreement.

By the time the enormous stone walls of Stormvale came into view, Jaime slowed down. The guards behind him did the same.

He shifted back to his human self first. Bones cracked, fur disappeared beneath skin, and within seconds, he stood naked in the middle of the road before one of the guards quickly handed him his clothes.

"Everything ready?" he asked as he dressed.

"Yes, Sir Jaime."

Jaime nodded, then he looked at Stormvale again and took in a deep breath. Responsibilities like this made him nervous, and that was exactly why he had gone over the agreement several times before leaving IronRidge.

The prices.

The quantities.

The duration.

Even the small clauses his father had insisted he memorise.

There was no reason this should fail.

He was the heir to IronRidge.

Stormvale knew that.

And this agreement benefited both Packs.

So when the enormous gates opened and several Stormvale guards stepped forward, Jaime smiled, "Welcome to Stormvale, Sir Jaime."

"Thank you."

He followed the guards inside, and they led him straight to the negotiation room. Everything was already prepared inside the room.

A long table had been arranged inside, with documents placed neatly across its surface.

Alpha Zanthros of Stormvale sat at the opposite end.

He was an older man with silver beginning to spread through his dark hair, his eyes sharp enough to make Jaime straighten unconsciously, "Sir Jaime."

"Alpha Zanthros." Jaime bowed to him before he took his seat.

His guards remained behind him.

"Let us begin," Zanthros said and picked up the first document, "I’ve reviewed the proposal your father sent me beforehand,"

Jaime nodded.

Everything was standard protocol now. The nervousness in him was just dissolving when Zanthros suddenly said, "And I have a problem with it."

Jaime blinked, "What problem?"

Zanthros dropped the paper onto the table, and his welcoming gaze turned cold, "You’ve reduced the amount of iron IronRidge is supplying us by almost forty per cent."

"No, we haven’t." Jaime frowned.

Why would they do that? It’s outrageous to even think of.

Zanthros’s brows pulled together, then he gestured at the paper, "It’s written right here."

Jaime reached for the document quickly, wondering at first if Zanthros had maybe dulled and was suffering from sight complications due to his advancing age. He didn’t dare say it out loud though.

His eyes moved down the page to where the clause of Iron was written.

Three hundred crates annually.

Jaime’s eyes narrowed at the words. Three hundred?! That wasn’t what his father had agreed to. It was supposed to be five hundred. Or did his father change it and never tell him? Impossible! Or was this the true test to see how he would react under pressure?

It couldn’t be.

Jaime had looked through the proposal countless times. There’s no way the Alpha would even try to jeopardise this just to test him, "This isn’t our proposal." He looked at Zanthros.

Zanthros stared at him, expression blank, "Your seal is on it."

"What?" Jaime grabbed the document again.

There it was!

The IronRidge seal.

His father’s signature.

Everything looked legitimate.

So why the hell did it say three hundred instead of five hundred?!

"Someone changed this." He blurted out, "But I don’t know..." His voice faded, realising how stupid that must sound.

The room went silent, and then Zanthros leaned back slowly. "Are you accusing Stormvale of forging your father’s agreement?"

"No." Jaime replied sharply.

"Then who?"

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, for his future was riding in the line, but he couldn’t find the words.

Because he didn’t know. He was fucking confused.

"Sir Jaime, are you aware that we have rejected three shipments from IronRidge this month?"

"Three?" Jaime’s eyes widened.

"All three contained inferior iron."

"That’s impossible."

"It wasn’t." Zanthros was now staring at Jaime with even more suspicion than before. The heir of the pack looked unaware of all these happenings, which also meant Alpha Augustus was also oblivious.

IronRidge had never sent inferior iron to Stormvale.

Never.

Ronan slid another document across the table, "This is the inspection report."

Jaime picked it up, and his expression turned even more twisted as he read through it.

The shipment had apparently contained iron with dangerously high levels of impurities.

Iron that could crack under pressure.

Iron that could cause weapons to shatter during combat. And every shipment had carried IronRidge’s mark.

Jaime remembered sending them off. The messengers had reported that they had delivered it to Stormvale successfully each time. Jaime had been in charge of overseeing and making sure the shipment carried only pure iron.

So how the hell did impure ones get in there?!

"How much have you lost?" Jaime’s fingers tightened around the paper.

"Enough." Zanthros replied coldly, "And because of those shipments, my council wants the agreement terminated."

Jaime’s head snapped back up at him, "What?"

"You heard me,"

"But..."

"That decision has already been made."

"Alpha Zanthros, please."

"This is a time of war, Sir Jaime of IronRidge. We have rogues on our tails that could come at us at any time, and we cannot afford to worry about whether our swords might shatter during the fight. It’s far too risky."

"Alpha Zanthros, I oversaw the iron filling myself. But I have no idea how impure ones got delivered instead. Please give me a chance to get to the—"

"I could give you a chance," Zanthros cut him off, "But the rogues won’t give me or my pack a chance when they bite down on our swords, and it breaks immediately,"

"Alpha—"

The older Alpha raised one hand, silencing him, "You came here expecting to negotiate." He slowly pushed the documents toward Jaime, "But I do not trust you enough to do so anymore. If it has happened three times already, along with the changed agreement you seem to have no idea about, then it can definitely happen again,"

Jaime stared at the papers.

Something was terribly wrong.

Zanthros stood up to leave,"The guards would escort you back out of the castle. My regards to Augustus,"

.

.

The first thing Jaime did the moment he returned home was head straight to his chambers and pull out the original trade agreement that was with him.

He’d been restless and alarmed and worried ever since he left Stormvale. He’d just freaking lost years of agreement! How on earth was he supposed to explain this to his father?

He pulled out the original agreement and spread it open on his table, then he placed the copy of Stormvale next to it and began comparing them together.

The original agreement should have five hundred iron. That would confirm that someone had actually tampered with it.

But what Jaime saw had him stumbling backwards. Right there on the original paper, in his own handwriting, was three hundred iron annually! How in the name of the Moon Goddess did he miss that? It was freaking five hundred before he had left for Stormvale last night!!

Someone changed it?!

He started to analyse the paper and handwriting again.

The quality of it.

But he couldn’t find a single thing that pointed out that it had been tampered with.

He brought the paper close to his nose and sniffed.

His scent. Nothing new. Nothing out of place. The guards on duty had confirmed with him that nobody had come close to his chambers since he left.

Jaime stumbled back, clutching the paper in one hand. Does this mean...he made the mistake all this while? His eyes have been deceiving him? How could that be? It made no freaking sense!!

He slammed his fists into the table, and the wood groaned heavily on impact. How was he supposed to explain this to his father?!

They needed that freaking salt!

Once the war starts, all trading would have to halt!

Jaime dragged a hand through his hair, thinking of an alternative. Maybe he would negotiate with another pack. That was the only way out now.

"How did it go with Stormvale?!" Alpha Augustus’s voice rang from the open door.

Jaime felt his soul come out of his body.