Chapter 75 – After the Meeting
Chapter 75 – After the Meeting
They stepped out of the café into the steady movement of the street.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
The noise of the surroundings filled the space instead like the passing conversations, distant traffic, the usual rhythm of the city continuing without pause.
Varis walked a few steps ahead before slowing just enough for Taren to fall in beside him.
He exhaled lightly.
“They’re overestimating themselves,” he said.
The words came calmly, without force, as if the conclusion had already settled in his mind.
Taren didn’t respond.
Varis continued.
“It happens,” he said. “Early traction, a bit of attention, and suddenly they start thinking they can dictate terms.”
His tone remained even, but there was a trace of irritation beneath it now.
“They’ll come back to reality,” he added. “They always do.”
They walked in silence for a short distance.
Taren’s gaze remained forward, but his thoughts had not moved on.
The conversation in the café replayed in fragments, not as isolated lines, but as a whole.
The clarity and the certainty they had.
There had been no hesitation on the other side of the table.
No attempt to stretch the discussion or soften the refusal.
Just a decision.
Varis spoke again.
“That kind of stance doesn’t last,” he said. “Not without structure behind it.”
Taren glanced at him briefly.
“They didn’t seem unsure,” he said.
Varis gave a small, dismissive smile.
“Confidence isn’t the same as position,” he replied. “You can be certain and still be wrong.”
Taren didn’t argue.
He understood the point.
But it didn’t align with what he had seen.
They continued walking to the tram.
The distance back to the office wasn’t near nor far, but neither of them seemed in a hurry.
Varis’s tone shifted slightly as he continued.
“They’re tied to a small operation,” he said. “Whatever they’re doing now, it’s limited. Without scale, they’ll hit a ceiling sooner or later.”
He paused briefly before adding,
“When that happens, they’ll reconsider.”
Taren said nothing as these words were quite familiar to him.
He had heard variations of them before, applied to different authors, different works.
But something about this time felt… incomplete.
Not incorrect, just insufficient.
The conversation in the café had not felt like someone reaching upward without support.
It had felt like someone choosing not to step into something they didn’t need.
Varis continued, as if clarifying the matter further.
“Right now, they’re looking at what they’ve already built,” he said. “That’s fine. But growth requires more than that.”
He glanced at Taren briefly.
“You saw the terms. They weren’t unreasonable.”
Taren’s response came after a short pause.
“They were the company’s standard terms,” he said.
Varis nodded once.
“Exactly.”
The agreement settled easily on his side.
Taren did not continue the thought aloud.
He had raised those same terms before, more than once. Suggested adjustments. Argued, when it was necessary, that they could be structured more fairly without weakening the company’s position.
It had never gone far.
The terms remained as they were.
He let the thought pass.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
By the time they reached the building, the earlier tension had thinned, replaced by the familiar routine of the workday.
People moved through the entrance as usual.
Nothing had changed.
Varis didn’t slow as he entered.
“I’ll update the chief,” he said. “We’ll leave it for now.”
Taren nodded.
Varis moved ahead toward the inner offices without waiting.
Taren remained near the entrance for a moment longer.
His thoughts had not settled as easily.
The terms had failed. That much was clear.
But that did not mean the opportunity was gone.
If the structure changed, even slightly…
If the terms reflected what the work had already achieved…
There was still a possibility.
The question was not whether it could work.
It was whether the company would allow it.
Taren exhaled quietly, then moved toward his desk.
Inside the chief editor’s office, Varis stood across the desk as he gave his report.
The chief listened without interruption.
His expression remained neutral at first, his attention focused on the details rather than the outcome.
“They refused outright?” he asked.
“Yes,” Varis replied. “They didn’t entertain the structure at all.”
The chief leaned back slightly.
“And the numbers?”
“Confirmed,” Varis said. “Digital is above fifteen thousand. Physical is already past five thousand and still moving.”
That drew a visible pause.
The chief’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Five thousand,” he repeated.
The number settled differently.
Digital growth could fluctuate.
Physical movement at that scale did not happen without consistent demand.
He remained silent for a moment before asking,
“What about their position?”
Varis gave a faint, dismissive exhale.
“Confident,” he said. “More than that. They were setting conditions as if they were already established.”
The chief’s expression didn’t change, but his attention had clearly shifted.
“Based on what?” he asked.
Varis shrugged slightly.
“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Either they’ve already been in contact with larger publishers, or they’re expecting better offers. It’s possible they’ve circulated the manuscript widely and are waiting.”
He paused briefly before adding,
“Or they’re overestimating their position.”
The chief did not respond immediately.
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk once before stopping.
“And Crownspire?” he asked.
“Unknown,” Varis replied. “No presence at scale. Likely a small operation.”
The chief considered that for a moment.
Then he activated his wristlink.
“Get me the press,” he said.
A connection formed shortly after.
“Find out who is handling the printing for this title,” he said. “Crownspire Publishing. I want details on the press and their current capacity.”
He paused, then added,
“And their background. Recent activity as well.”
“Understood,” came the reply.
The line closed.
Varis remained where he was.
“Do you think they’ll be a problem?” he asked.
The chief waved a hand lightly.
“No,” he said. “Just curious.”
His tone remained casual, but his attention hadn’t fully moved away from the thought.
“We don’t deal with every small operation that appears,” he added.
The matter might have ended there.
But a short while later, the wristlink activated again.
“We found the press,” the voice said.
The chief leaned forward slightly.
“Go on.”
“Stone & Quill Press,” the man replied. “Also referred to as Rendon’s press.”
The chief’s gaze narrowed slightly.
“Status?”
“Previously stable,” the man said. “Mid-tier capacity at best. Declined over the past few years. Recently close to shut down.”
He continued,
“However, current activity suggests a reversal. They’re hiring aggressively, expanding operations, and acquiring new machinery.”
The chief frowned slightly.
“Funding?”
“Loan,” came the answer. “From Lunecrest Bank.”
The chief leaned back again.
“Lunecrest,” he repeated.
There was a brief pause.
“And Crownspire?”
“Unclear,” the man replied. “Possibly a rebrand or a new entity operating through the same press. No established profile yet.”
The chief exhaled lightly.
“That’s enough,” he said.
“Should we continue monitoring them?” the voice asked.
“No,” the chief replied. “No need to spend time on it anymore and waste company resources.”
The call ended.
For a moment, the room remained quiet.
Then the chief shook his head slightly.
“Lunecrest Bank,” he muttered.
Varis glanced at him.
“What about them?”
The chief gave a short, dismissive scoff.
“They hand out loans where others wouldn’t,” he said. “The risk is obvious, the returns are uncertain, and they approve it anyway without much restraint.”
His tone carried mild irritation now.
“If they keep funding operations like that, they’ll run into trouble sooner or later and go bankrupt themselves before the debtors do.”
Varis nodded, though without much investment in the thought.
The discussion ended there.
From the chief’s perspective, the matter had already been categorized.
Not worth further attention.
“Keep me updated if anything changes,” the chief said after a moment. “But don’t push it. No need to make it look like we’re eager.”
Varis gave a small nod.
“Of course,” he said. “I know how to handle situations like this.”
The chief’s gaze shifted briefly.
“And Taren?” he asked.
Varis exhaled lightly, the restraint in his tone slipping just enough to show his irritation.
“He’s still the same,” he said. “Trying to adjust everything to suit them, suggesting changes, pushing for concessions.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“He’s not suited for negotiations like this. It slows things down more than it helps.”
The chief raised a hand slightly, cutting him off before he went further.
“That’s enough,” he said.
Varis stopped.
The chief did not elaborate.
“Get back to work,” he added.
Varis gave a short nod and turned toward the door.
“And Varis,” the chief said from behind him.
He paused.
“Make sure Taren is informed as well.”
There was a brief stillness at the door.
Varis’s hand tightened slightly on the handle before he released it.
“Understood,” he said, his tone even.
He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Varis returned to the main floor a few minutes later.
Taren was at his desk, already back at work.
Varis stopped beside him.
“There’s an update,” he said.
Taren looked up.
“The printing of Ashborne’s book is being handled by a press called Stone & Quill,” Varis continued. “They were a small press but now it seems they’ve picked up activity recently with expansion like getting new equipment and significant hiring.”
Taren’s expression shifted slightly at that.
Varis noticed.
“You know them?” he asked.
Taren nodded once.
“I’ve heard of them,” he said. “They had a solid reputation before.”
He paused briefly.
“Though I heard they hadn’t been doing well in recent years. Nothing confirmed by me, just some industry talk.”
Varis studied him for a moment.
“Since when are you following the press side of things?” he asked.
Taren gave a small, neutral response.
“Just general awareness,” he said. “It comes up.”
He paused briefly, then added,
“It helps to understand how things move across the whole process. Not in detail, but enough to know where decisions connect and what affects what.”
Varis let out a quiet snort.
“Are you explaining the workflow to me now?” he said.
Taren didn’t react to the tone.
“No,” he said. “Just saying it’s useful to have a broader view.”
Varis shook his head slightly.
“Better to focus on what actually matters,” he said. “We don’t need to track every small operation trying to stay afloat.”
Taren gave a small nod.
“Understood.”
He didn’t add anything further.
It wasn’t the first time the gap in approach had shown itself, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Varis continued without waiting.
“They’re currently running on a loan from Lunecrest Bank,” he said. “Using it to upgrade and expand.”
Taren considered that.
“That kind of shift doesn’t happen without a reason,” he said.
Varis shrugged slightly.
“It happens when someone’s willing to take the risk,” he replied. “Whether it pays off is another matter.”
Taren’s gaze remained steady.
“And what about Crownspire?” he asked.
“No real presence,” Varis said. “Likely operating through them, possibly as a rebrand maybe. Nothing significant yet.”
He straightened slightly.
“That’s where it stands.”
Taren nodded.
“Understood.”
Varis didn’t stay longer than that.
“Focus on the current work,” he added before moving away.
Taren watched him go for a moment, then looked back down at the page in front of him.
The new information settled differently.
Stone & Quill.
A press that had nearly shut down, now running again, and not just stabilizing but expanding.
Backed by a loan.
And at the same time, handling a title that was already performing beyond expectations.
Taren’s gaze lingered on the page in front of him, but his focus had shifted elsewhere.
The pieces didn’t sit apart.
They lined up.
A struggling press suddenly regaining momentum.
A new publishing name appearing without any prior presence.
A book gaining traction faster than most first releases.
On their own, each of them could be explained.
Together…
They felt less like coincidence.
He considered the name again.
Crownspire.
A rebranding, perhaps.
Or something new built on top of what was already there.
Either way, it didn’t fully account for the timing.
Taren exhaled quietly.
It was possible he was reading too much into it.
But it was just as possible that they were still missing something important.
He picked up his pen again, but his thoughts didn’t settle. They kept returning to the same question... whether it was all coincidence, or if he had missed something along the way.