The Council Chamber was empty. The seats were empty by their lonesome. All except one.

Canelé Cookie perches on the edge of her seat. Her eyes flicker toward the chamber doors, then down to a crumpled note in her hands. She exhales. No witnesses, no recordings.

The elder's eyes returned to the paper as she started to mutter. “Three barrels… disguised as salted caramel syrup exports. Mudshake concentrates from Choco Mud Town. Captain Caviar Cookie’s ships won’t inspect House Oyster’s cargo… especially not if I sign the manifest.”