CHAPTER 93: [93] A TOAST TO THE ARCHITECT

Pierre watched the festival swirl around him, a carefully orchestrated display of Valerio’s power. Lanterns cast golden shadows across white stone, while musicians played at precisely timed intervals. Nothing in Porto Veloce happened by chance.

Look at them all, dancing to his tune. Each one a puppet on invisible strings.

Hardy’s darkness coiled inside him, whispering seductive thoughts of power and control. Pierre pushed them down, focusing instead on the weight of the sea-blue stone against his chest. The voice wasn’t him. Not yet. Not ever, if he could help it.

He caught Alyssa’s eye across the plaza. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Leo’s distraction was in place. Raven had slipped away, heading toward Valerio’s office. Now came his part – the most dangerous role in their plan.

Pierre stepped forward, raising his glass high. "Friends of Porto Veloce," he called, his voice carrying across the plaza with the strength that came from years in fighting rings. "I would like to propose a toast to our gracious host!"

Conversations halted. Heads turned. Valerio, standing near the central fountain, smiled broadly, basking in the attention.

"To Master Valerio," Pierre continued, moving to the center of the plaza where everyone could see him. "The architect of this magnificent port, who has taught me much about the nature of perfection these past days."

Valerio inclined his head modestly, though his eyes gleamed with pride.

"In fact," Pierre said, taking a measured step toward Valerio, "I’ve been contemplating your philosophy extensively. The Meridian Oak, broken to grow stronger. The ingredients that compose your meals, each with its proper place." He paused, letting his eyes sweep across the gathered crowd. "The people of Porto Veloce, all parts of your grand design."

Valerio’s smile remained fixed, but something shifted in his gaze – a wariness, a recognition that this wasn’t a simple toast.

"I find myself wondering," Pierre continued, his tone conversational yet loud enough for all to hear, "if an ingredient knows it’s being consumed. If the Meridian Oak, before it was broken, might have preferred to grow in its own way."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Valerio’s smile tightened.

"An interesting philosophical question, my friend," Valerio replied, his voice pleasant but carrying an edge. "Though perhaps better suited to a private conversation than a celebration."

"But what better time to celebrate ideas than during a festival?" Pierre countered, stepping closer to Valerio. "You yourself told me that Porto Veloce represents your philosophy made manifest. That each person here plays their proper role in your composition."

Pierre turned to the crowd, gesturing expansively. "I wonder if they know what those roles are. If the captains understand why their contracts extend with each Script adjustment. If the shipwrights comprehend why their debts grow despite their labor."

The murmuring grew louder. Valerio’s smile vanished entirely.

"You misunderstand my work," Valerio said, moving toward Pierre with the smooth grace of a predator. "Porto Veloce thrives because each person contributes according to their abilities. The Script system merely ensures fair compensation."

"Fair?" Pierre questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Let’s examine that claim. The Meridian Oak – you told me it was made stronger by breaking it. But who decided it needed to be stronger? Who appointed themselves arbiter of its growth?"

Valerio’s face darkened. "A tree doesn’t know what’s best for it."

"And people do?" Pierre challenged. "Or just one person? You?"

The crowd had gone silent now, hanging on every word. Pierre could see uncertainty in their eyes, a questioning that hadn’t been there before.

"I have spent fifteen years perfecting this port," Valerio said, his voice hardening. "Transforming chaos into order. Creating prosperity where there was poverty. Every person here lives better because of my vision."

"Living better while owing more," Pierre replied. "Strange how that works. The harder they labor, the deeper in debt they fall. Almost as if the system were designed that way."

Valerio’s jaw clenched. "You speak of matters you don’t understand."

"Explain them to me, then," Pierre said, spreading his arms in invitation. "Help me see the perfection in a system where a boy works six years to pay off his dead father’s debt, only to find the amount has doubled."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Pierre had struck a nerve – many in attendance knew Leo’s story, or had similar tales of their own.

Valerio’s composure cracked. His carefully cultivated image of benevolent mastery couldn’t withstand direct challenge. "These simplistic criticisms reveal your ignorance of economic necessities," he snapped. "Porto Veloce’s prosperity requires investment, sacrifice. The Script system balances complex factors beyond your comprehension."

"So complex that no one but you can understand it?" Pierre asked, his voice mild. "How convenient."

"You dare question my methods?" Valerio’s face flushed with anger. "Look around you! Everything you see is my creation. The order, the beauty, the prosperity – all of it exists because I willed it into being!"

Pierre smiled inwardly. Valerio was taking the bait, his ego driving him to defend his life’s work at the expense of caution. From the corner of his eye, Pierre noticed Marco trying to approach his master, likely with news of trouble elsewhere. But Valerio waved him away, too engrossed in the public challenge to his philosophy.

Perfect. Keep talking, you pompous bastard.

"Creating beauty is admirable," Pierre acknowledged, softening his tone. "But at what cost? The Meridian Oak may grow stronger when broken, but does it grow as it was meant to? Or does it become something else entirely – something shaped by your will rather than its nature?"

"Nature is imperfect," Valerio declared, his voice rising with passion. "Raw, unrefined potential wasted without proper guidance. I see what things can become, what people can achieve under the right conditions."

"Under your conditions," Pierre corrected.

"Yes!" Valerio exclaimed, too caught up in his own rhetoric to notice how the crowd reacted to this admission. "I have the vision to see beyond limitations, to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. Each person here serves a purpose in that vision."

"As tools, then. Not as people."

Valerio’s eyes narrowed. "Tools, ingredients, components – call them what you will. Everything has its place in my design."

The crowd’s murmuring grew louder, more disturbed. Captains exchanged worried glances with merchants. Shipwrights looked at their calloused hands with new understanding.

"And those who don’t fit your design?" Pierre pressed. "What happens to them?"

"They are reshaped until they do," Valerio stated, his voice cold with certainty. "No resource is wasted in Porto Veloce."