Morning on Greyscale Island was as noisy as ever, but beneath the surface bustle, the atmosphere at the port had shifted.
The clash between Hall and Rugo had spread quickly, exposing the first cracks in Rugo's rule. Doubts began to stir among the factions, and many of the smaller gangs waited quietly, watching for the right moment to act.
Barron sat in a hidden booth at a tavern, fingers interlaced atop the wooden table, his gaze cool and steady as he stared at the three men seated across from him.
They were Hall, leader of a smuggling gang; Gale, a merchant discontent with Rugo's dominance; and Nick, a mid-tier leader of a neutral faction.
The booth was dim, lit only by a faint flicker from a corner oil lamp. A bottle of cheap rum and a few battered wooden cups sat untouched on the table. All attention was focused on Barron.
"Rugo may be strong, but his foundation is shaky," Barron began, his voice low, yet carrying a quiet authority that commanded the room.
Hall leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop. He was clearly still weighing the consequences of his earlier confrontation with Rugo. He looked up, eyes filled with complex emotions.
"Barron, you lit the fire. But now, we need to see an actual plan."
Gale frowned, skepticism lacing his tone.
"Last time, Hall's people made a move, and Rugo sealed off several key trade routes almost instantly. He acted faster than we expected. If we take another risk, we might not even get our goods out."
Nick, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, let out a derisive laugh.
"Easy for you to say. What makes you think we can trust you not to disappear when things go south? We don't all get second chances."
Barron's gaze drifted slowly across the three men. He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he pulled a rough map from inside his coat and spread it across the table. Red ink marked several key locations tied to Rugo: warehouses, outposts, and a secret financial transfer site.
"These are the lifelines we've identified over the past few days," Barron said, pointing at the map.
"The warehouses hold his weapons and supplies. The outposts monitor the port. And this transfer point? It funds his operations with the Blackfin Alliance."
Hall's brows furrowed as he studied the markings.
"If these places are that critical, they'll be heavily guarded."
Barron nodded, eyes sharp.
"Exactly why we won't hit them directly. We'll create chaos—make him chase shadows."
Gale set down his untouched cup and looked up.
"How?"
Barron smiled faintly, tracing a dotted line across the map with his finger.
"We feign an assault on the warehouse. We leak intel on purpose, so Rugo thinks it's a targeted strike.
He'll pull his men in to protect it. Meanwhile, Nick's crew will stir up trouble at the port, drawing even more guards away from the transfer point."
He paused, glancing at Nick.
"Your men are good at blending in, aren't they?"
Nick grinned.
"Sure. But you'd better make sure none of them die for it."
Barron ignored the jab and continued.
"Once Rugo's attention is split, Gale's people will infiltrate the transfer point, destroy key ledgers, and steal a chunk of the gold.
That'll rattle his finances. Then Hall's crew hits the outpost, weakening his grip on the port."
Hall's expression finally eased a little, though caution lingered in his eyes.
"Sounds solid. But what if Rugo figures out we're working together?"
Barron's voice turned cold.
"Then he'll find out too late."
Barron proceeded to assign each of them their roles.
Hall's crew would plant rudimentary traps around the warehouse and deliberately leave their insignia behind for Rugo's men to discover.
Gale's people would disguise themselves as merchants and slip into the transfer point. Nick's gang would mix with the crowd at the taverns, using drunken brawls to create chaos.
That night, the plan went into motion.
Hall and his men slipped through the shadows, planting their homemade traps in hidden spots around the warehouse. They carved their gang's symbol into wooden crates and walls—bold, unmistakable.
Meanwhile, Nick's people descended on the busiest tavern by the docks, pockets jingling with coins.
They got several guards drunk and stoked a rowdy brawl, drawing in nearby sentries desperate to restore order.
During the confusion, Gale's operatives sneaked into the financial hub. They quietly torched vital ledgers and slipped several crates of gold out under the noses of the distracted guards.
By morning, Rugo's headquarters reeked of fury.
He stood at the war table, hair a disheveled mess of deep brown strands, sweat gluing a few locks to his forehead.
His eyes were bloodshot, his expression a storm of rage and menace. A dark grey coat hung open over his muscular frame, revealing old knife scars and clenched muscles.
His hand gripped a curved blade so tightly that veins bulged across his arm, the weapon threatening to swing at the slightest provocation.
He slammed a hand onto the table, eyes blazing at his cowering lieutenant.
"I told you to guard the transfer point. Now the ledgers are ash and the gold is gone! Are you all useless?"
The man stammered, wiping cold sweat from his brow.
"Boss, it… it might've been Hall. He's been getting bolder lately, could be working behind our backs."
Rugo narrowed his eyes, his voice like ice.
"Hall? A petty smuggler? Even if it's him…" He paused, suspicion flashing in his eyes. "Could they really pull this off alone? Or do we have traitors on the inside?"
The lieutenant's face drained of color. Beads of sweat dripped down his temple.
"You mean… you think someone here—?"
Rugo let out a low, venomous laugh.
"I don't need to think. I need answers. If someone's betrayed me… I'll make sure they regret ever breathing."
Elsewhere, on a hill overlooking the port, Barron and Hall stood together, watching the lights flicker below.
A hint of admiration and excitement danced in Hall's expression.
"You're colder than I thought. That move was brutal. Rugo's not just fighting us now—he's turning on his own."
Barron didn't reply immediately. His gaze remained locked on the port.
"Pressure from outside and paranoia within. That's how he'll fall. But we can't ease up yet. Next, we need to show the whole island just how dangerous and useless he is."
Hall nodded, clenching his fist.
"Tell me what comes next. I'm ready."
Barron gave a faint smile. His eyes gleamed with quiet malice.
"Next, we turn all of Greyscale Island against him."