Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 447 of 619

Ajax rode home from the nameless city with two full carts and a plan. The eastern road ran both ways now. Spice and glass and dye going west, cloth and needles going east. But a plan was not a route. Someone had to walk it every week, load the carts, count the coin, and keep the goods moving. Ajax called Grayson, Tucker, and Aldric to the hall table to settle it. Aldric had the ledger open before Ajax sat. Aldric kept the vault and counted every bar and blade in Black Oak. He looked up over the page. "You have thirty fighters and no cart master," he said. "A trade route is not a raid. It runs on the same day each week or it dies." "Then it needs a man on it each week," Ajax said. "Same man. One who knows the market and can read a trader." Tucker leaned back in his chair. He wore both gold chains and a look that said he already knew where this went. "You're describing me," Tucker said. "I've worked that city. I know the lean man in the red coat. I know what glass costs there and what it fetches at the port." He shrugged. "But I can't run a bar and a road at once." Grayson spoke flat. "Then choose." He crossed his arms. Grayson held the gate and rarely wasted words. "You can't hold both. The bar bleeds captains for talk. The road brings coin. Pick which one keeps." Ajax looked between the two chains on Tucker's chest and the ledger under Aldric's hand. The answer sat there. "Tucker takes the road," he said. "Every week. He loads at Black Oak, rides to the Crossing, trades in the city, comes back the same day each run. Marco holds the gate and passes him through clean." Tucker nodded slow. "And the bar?" "Aldric runs the bar and the ledger both," Ajax said. "You've done it before when Tucker sailed north." Aldric closed the book. "I can hold the bar. I can hold the count." He met Ajax's eyes. "But one man on a road each week is a habit. Habits get watched. The gatekeeper's men count who passes. In a month they'll know your cart by its wheels." The warning landed hard. Ajax had broken one gatekeeper's grip. He had not thought the city's own watchers would learn his pattern. But the road had to run, and it had to run steady, or the coin dried up. "Then we vary the days," Ajax said. "Tucker rides different mornings. Different loads. Never the same twice." He stood. "It runs. Tucker owns it. First cart leaves in three days." Tucker rose and clasped Ajax's arm. The route was settled. Black Oak had its trade line east, and a man sworn to walk it.