CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST CREDITOR

Three months after arriving in the Free Cities, I made my first move.

My target was a conservative investment firm called Harren Capital the smallest of the three primary Sterling Pack creditors listed in the ledger. Harren Capital held a fourteen-million-credit loan against the Sterling Pack dating back to 2021. According to the 2024 financial records, the loan’s interest payments were already three months overdue.

The company belonged to a sixty-three-year-old Lycan-blood financier named Aldric Harren.

And by every piece of information I had gathered, Aldric Harren was running out of options.

I had spent six weeks studying him.

The meeting took place on a Tuesday afternoon during my ninth week in the Free Cities.

The location was a modest conference room inside Harren Capital’s office building in the financial district of the Second Free City.

I wore the second charcoal wool suit Margarethe Lindholm had sent from Halversford during my second week in the city. Around my neck rested the Voss family pearls. In my hand was the old leather Voss Capital card case my grandmother had commissioned back in 2017.

I wasn’t carrying the Sterling Pack ledger.

There was no need.

I’d memorized every relevant entry involving Aldric Harren’s fourteen-million-credit loan during my first three weeks in the Free Cities.

Aldric Harren was exactly what I expected.

Grey at the temples. Wire-rimmed glasses. A polite smile that looked practiced rather than genuine. The expression of a man who had spent years pretending everything was under control.

Nothing about him suggested comfort.

He stood as I entered.

“Ms. Voss.”

His voice was smooth, professional, refined by decades of speaking with investors.

“Mr. Harren.”

I took my seat.

The leather card case rested between us on the polished conference table.

Then I spoke.

“Mr. Harren, you’re currently holding a fourteen-million-credit loan issued to the Sterling Pack at a seven-point-three percent interest rate. According to the payment schedule, they are three months behind on interest.”

Silence followed.

Aldric Harren didn’t visibly react.

But the stillness in his eyes sharpened.

“I’d like to purchase that loan today,” I continued. “At full face value. Fourteen million Free Cities credits transferred into Harren Capital’s account before the close of business.”

The room went quiet.

Very quiet.

Across the table, Aldric studied me.

His gaze moved briefly to the card case.

Then to the pearls.

Then back to me.

Finally, he said, “Ms. Voss, according to the Voss family trust registry, you’re twenty-three years old.”

“That’s correct.”

“And according to the Voss Capital registry, you’ve been operating in the Free Cities for three months.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re asking me to sell a fourteen-million-credit loan at face value despite the fact that a Sterling Pack loan three months in arrears would currently trade for closer to nine million on the secondary market.”

I lifted my chin.

“Yes, Mr. Harren.”

The silence stretched.

He watched me carefully.

The afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows highlighted every line on his face.

He looked at the card case again.

Then the pearls.

And finally my eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

His voice was calm.

Curious.

Nothing more.

I answered just as softly.

“Because the Sterling Pack isn’t recovering.”

I folded my hands neatly on the table.

“The missed interest payments will become missed principal payments within six months. By the end of 2025, that fourteen-million-credit loan won’t be worth nine million.”

I paused.

“It will be worth closer to four.”

His expression remained unreadable.

“I’m offering fourteen million today. Every credit. Full face value.”

I held his gaze.

“And I’m offering you the opportunity you’ve been waiting for during the last three years.”

The silence that followed felt endless.

Outside the windows, distant city traffic hummed through the financial district.

Inside the room, neither of us moved.

Then Aldric slowly removed his glasses.

He set them on the table.

When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter.

“How do you know the Sterling Pack’s financial position, Ms. Voss?”

I met his eyes.

“I was raised as the primary heir to the Voss family fortune.”

The answer came easily.

“The Voss family has conducted business with Northern packs for three hundred and forty-one years. I understand the financial landscape of those territories.”

A brief pause.

“And I know exactly where the Sterling Pack stands.”

I leaned back slightly.

“Fourteen million, Mr. Harren. Today. Face value.”

For the longest moment of the entire meeting, he said nothing.

Then he lifted one hand.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

He extended it across the table.

“Yes, Ms. Voss.”

I stared at his hand.

Then at him.

A faint smile touched his face.

“You have yourself a deal.”

I left Harren Capital at exactly 3:47 PM.

The autumn air carried a faint chill as I crossed the streets of the Second Free City’s financial district. Sunlight reflected off glass towers and polished stone while distant voices drifted between buildings.

Still wearing my charcoal suit and family pearls, I walked toward the black Voss family car Helga had arranged.

Mikhal Korven waited beside it.

The rear door was already open.

I stepped inside.

The scent of leather filled the cabin.

For a long moment, I sat silently in the back seat.

Then I spoke.

“Mikhal.”

“Yes, Lady Voss.”

“Thirteen more.”

That was all.

Mikhal Korven, after forty-three years of service to the Voss family, knew better than to ask unnecessary questions.

Instead, he started the engine.

The car purred to life.

“The Aldris Lane townhouse, Lady Voss?”

I looked out the window.

“Yes, Mikhal.”

A pause.

“Home.”

The following week, on Wednesday morning, Helga brought me the news.

Caelum Sterling and Isolde Voss had married on Saturday during a Northern Hollow pack ceremony.

The Northern Hollow press had covered every detail.

Helga had quietly maintained subscriptions to several Northern pack publications since my first day in the Free Cities.

As a result, the reports arrived on my breakfast table before sunrise.

I learned that Isolde had worn my grandmother’s wedding crown.

The Voss family crown crafted in 1847.

The same crown I had taken off in Margarethe Lindholm’s small Halversford shop on the third day of my journey.

I set my coffee down.

The rich scent of roasted beans drifted upward.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t allow myself that luxury.

Instead, I sat motionless at the long oak table in the kitchen of the Aldris Lane townhouse.

Pale morning light spilled through the windows.

Dust floated lazily through golden beams.

And for the first time, I understood it completely.

Not partially.

Not intellectually.

Completely.

The life I had spent seven years preparing for during my engagement to Caelum Sterling no longer existed.

It was gone.

Permanently.

No amount of wishing would bring it back.

No amount of grief would change what had happened.

I lifted my eyes.

Across the kitchen, Helga stood quietly with a dishcloth in her hands.

“Helga.”

“Yes, Lady Voss.”

“Schedule the next creditor meeting for Friday.”

She placed the cloth aside.

Her weathered eyes rose to meet mine.

“Of course, Lady Voss.”

A brief pause.

“Which creditor?”

I reached for the Sterling Pack creditor list lying on the oak table.

My finger moved down the remaining thirteen names.

Then stopped.

“Vael Investment Group.”

I glanced at the figures.

“Thirty-one million Free Cities credits.”

Another pause.

“Four months in arrears.”

Helga waited.

I closed the file.

“According to every indicator on the creditor schedule, Helga, they’re considerably more desperate than Mr. Harren ever was.”

The smallest smile touched Helga Vorenheim’s face.

Barely visible.

But there.

“Friday, then, Lady Voss.”

I raised my chin.

Picked up my coffee.

And took a slow drink.

Outside the townhouse windows, beneath the pale autumn light of the Second Free City, life moved steadily through the streets.

And somewhere deep inside my heart, I realized something unexpected.

The Free Cities were beginning to feel like home.