CHAPTER 27 BRAKKOR
brAKKOR
The morning air bites at my exposed skin as I crouch beside the wagon ruts carved into Thornak's land.
My fingers trace the deep grooves in the earth, following their path toward the forest line where they disappear beneath fallen leaves.
The tracks are fresh—maybe two days old—and the weight patterns tell a story I'm still piecing together.
I can see the pattern now, clear as ink on parchment.
Selwyn's operation flows like water finding the easiest path downhill—diverted shipments here, falsified records there, stolen lumber feeding back into the very supply chain he's disrupting.
But the structure underneath remains frustratingly opaque, like trying to read a book with half the pages torn out.
"Still chasing shadows?"
Thornak's voice cuts through my concentration. I don't look up from the tracks, but I hear his boots crunching through the underbrush as he approaches. His usual heavy footsteps sound different today—lighter, more cautious.
"These aren't shadows." I straighten, brushing dirt from my hands. "These are wagon wheels carrying stolen lumber back into town. The question is why steal from you just to sell inferior wood to the same people who could've bought quality timber directly."
"Because it's not about the lumber." Thornak stops beside me, his weathered face unusually grim. "It's about control."
Something in his tone makes me turn to face him fully. "You know something."
He nods slowly, like a man coming to terms with an unpleasant truth. "The name Selwyn finally clicked. Took me most of the night, but I remembered where I'd heard it before."
"Where?"
"Trade route gossip. Logging contracts from three towns over." Thornak's jaw tightens. "Selwyn Trask isn't just some middleman supplier playing fast and loose with invoices. He runs something called the Harvest Development Group."
The wheels start turning, slowly but surely.
"Infrastructure expansion, they call it.
Been quietly acquiring land across multiple regions for the past two years.
" Thornak kicks at a loose stone, sending it skittering into the underbrush.
"Always the same pattern—create financial pressure on local businesses, then swoop in with offers to 'help' struggling landowners. "
My mind races, connecting threads I hadn't seen before. "Financial pressure like missing shipments and inflated supply costs."
"Exactly." Thornak's voice carries the weight of someone who's seen this play out before. "They target towns with valuable resources or strategic locations. Force out the locals, then develop the land for profit."
"And Harvest Hollow has both." The pieces snap into place with sickening clarity. "Prime agricultural land, established trade routes, and a population too trusting to see it coming."
"There's more." Thornak's expression darkens further. "Remember when Maddie mentioned someone tried to contest her grandmother's will? Claimed there were irregularities with the orchard inheritance?"
Ice forms in my stomach. "That was them."
"Has to be. Same timeline, same tactics." He gestures toward the stolen lumber site. "They've been working this town longer than we realized. The supply chain disruption is just the latest phase."
The full scope finally settles into place. I can see the entire operation laid out like a map—each missing shipment, each falsified record, each piece of stolen lumber feeding into a machine designed to break this town apart piece by piece.
"It's not random disruption." The words come out flat, certain.
"They disrupt supply chains first, create financial strain on local businesses, then weaken them right before peak season.
When the festival fails, everyone's desperate.
That's when Selwyn swoops in with his development group, offering to buy struggling businesses and land at rock-bottom prices. "
Thornak nods grimly. "And once they control enough infrastructure, they can reshape the entire region according to their plans."
"The festival isn't collateral damage." My mind races through the timeline, connecting each deliberate delay, each strategic shortage.
"It's the breaking point. If the Harvest Festival collapses, it takes half the town's economy with it.
Maddie's bakery, the craftsmen, the traders—they all depend on festival season to carry them through the winter. "
"Selwyn's not improvising," Thornak continues, his voice carrying the weight of grim experience. "This is a proven strategy. He's done this before."
I stop chasing more evidence. We have enough to see the pattern—now we need to stop it before the festival begins in three days.
"We need to get back to Calla. Now."
The wagon ride into town feels both endless and too short. Thornak's oxen move steadily through the darkened roads while urgency builds between us like pressure in a sealed pot. Every minute we spend traveling is another minute Selwyn has to solidify his position.
The Whistle's windows glow warm against the evening darkness. Inside, I find Calla and Jamie hunched over a table covered in notes, maps, and shipment records. Lanterns cast flickering light across scattered parchment, and ink stains mark both their fingers and the wooden surface.
"We know what's going on." I don't waste time with pleasantries. "Selwyn Trask runs the Harvest Development Group. They've been targeting this town for years."
Calla looks up, her sharp eyes immediately focused. "How?"
"Land acquisition through financial pressure.
They create supply shortages, drive up costs, force businesses into debt, then buy everything cheap when people can't hold on anymore.
" I spread Thornak's notes across their existing papers.
"The lumber theft, the rerouted shipments, the festival supply problems—it's all designed to create a cascade failure. "
Jamie's face pales as he follows the connections. "If the festival fails..."
"Half the town goes bankrupt within a month," Calla finishes quietly. "And Selwyn gets to play savior while buying up everything that matters."
Thornak steps forward, his weathered face grim. "They tried to contest Maddie's inheritance. Been working the angles longer than any of us realized."
A heavy silence settles over the room. We've solved the mystery, but the solution feels impossibly far away. Three days until festival opening, with critical supplies still missing and no clear way to restore them in time.
Jamie clears his throat. "Actually, I know exactly what to do."
We all turn to stare at him. He's been quiet through most of this, diligently taking notes and organizing information, but now he looks directly at Calla with something approaching determination.
"My mother sits on the Harvest Valley Guild Council."
Calla's eyebrows rise. "Jamie, why didn't you—"
"Because I wanted to earn my place here on merit, not connections.
" His voice carries quiet conviction. "But this isn't about my career anymore.
The Guild Council has authority over trade routes, supply chains, and commercial disputes across the entire valley.
They can seize goods, halt operations, and investigate fraud allegations. "
The pieces click into place immediately. External authority that can act fast enough to matter.
Thornak is already turning toward the door. "Get in the wagon. All of you."
"Jamie, are you certain your mother will—" Calla begins.
"She will." Jamie's jaw sets with surprising steel. "She has to."
We gather papers quickly, stuffing evidence into leather satchels. Calla locks the Whistle behind us, and within minutes we're all crowded into Thornak's wagon—Calla beside me, Jamie across from us, Thornak driving with grim purpose toward the main road.
As the wagon wheels find their rhythm on the cobblestones, I glance at Calla's profile in the lantern light. Her expression carries the same determination I've seen throughout this investigation, but something else underneath—confidence, maybe. Trust.
I'm not expecting things to go wrong. I'm expecting them to work.