24. Loose Ends

Lucien stared at the cloaked figure in his chair. The accusation was specific enough to cut through his exhaustion, yet still absurd on its face.

“That is a serious accusation,” he said flatly. “And a very specific one.”

“It is,” the masked man replied. “That’s why I came to you instead of just reporting it at town hall.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Why me?”

“Because you’re one of the few people in this town who seems to care about what happens to it.”

Lucien looked unimpressed. “That sounds like flattery.”

“It isn’t.” A brief pause followed. “And because I know you’re not involved.”

This time, Lucien reacted.

Lucien’s posture changed slightly. “And you are sure of that.”

“I am.”

The answer offered no reassurance.

Lucien folded his arms. “Then start giving me details. If you’re going to say someone is moving Midnight Dream and slaves through Verevain, you will need much more than words.”

The stranger nodded once. “His name is Davin Roe.”

Lucien said nothing, but his face stiffened.

He knew the name well enough. Everyone in town hall did. Roe was more than some merchant. He was influential, connected, and useful. If the accusation was true, the problem was bad. If it was false, the problem became worse in a different way.

“You have proof?” Lucien asked.

“I know where the Midnight Dream was stored. I saw it.”

“That is not proof I can use,” Lucien said sharply. “Even if I believed every word so far, town officers cannot simply walk into private property because an unknown man in a mask tells me to. Not when the property belongs to a man like Roe. I would need stronger evidence, and I would need an officer above my rank to support it.”

“I thought you might say that.”

The masked figure reached into his cloak and produced folded parchments. They were copies, not originals. Lucien noticed that immediately.

The stranger held them out. “These are from Roe’s records.”

Lucien did not take them right away. “You’re expecting me not to ask how you got them.”

“Yes.”

“That is inconvenient.”

“You don’t have to pursue that tonight.”

Lucien took the parchments.

His eyes moved across them quickly, and he immediately saw the problem. Codes, abbreviations, aliases, and partial records built to make sense only to people already inside the operation. He frowned, looked more carefully, then glanced back at the stranger.

“This is coded.”

“Yes.”

Lucien looked back down at the copies. He read a little more, then said, “I can see enough of the structure.”

The response told the masked man something useful, and Lucien noticed that too.

“You were hoping I could read it better than you,” Lucien said.

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

The steward read in silence for a while longer, then lowered the papers and asked, “You said slaves too. Explain that part carefully.”

“They’re taking children from villages,” the stranger said. “Not openly. Usually through families facing desperation. They pass through Verevain, stay briefly, then are taken out through the port.”

Lucien’s face hardened.

“And Roe’s exact role?”

“I know for certain the people collecting the children were being paid by Roe. That much is in the records. Whether he arranges the transport, sells them directly, or only passes them onward, I can’t prove yet.”

“Yet.”

The stranger left that unanswered.

Lucien pressed. “You are certain of the connection?”

“Yes.”

“And how many children?”

“I don’t know.”

“Names?”

“I don’t know.”

Lucien exhaled slowly through his nose.

For a moment, neither man spoke. Lucien looked down at the copied records again, piecing together what he could. Then he set the papers carefully on the table beside him and began summarizing aloud, more for his own thinking than for the other man’s benefit.

“If I use only what I have right now, at best we might intercept a suspicious cargo going in or out of town,” he said. “If we were lucky, that might be enough to justify pressure from above for a warehouse inspection. But if Roe is involved, truly involved, he is also connected enough to learn of that inspection very quickly. He would clear the warehouse before we ever set foot in it.”

He tapped the parchments with one finger.

“And then what? We find nothing. He blames hired transporters, says they were acting outside his knowledge, pays a fine for poor oversight if necessary, and keeps his business going. The Dream charge might still cling to someone lower in the chain. Roe would not. As for slavery, you have no direct evidence. So I would not even mention that part.”

The masked man was quiet.

In that silence, Alistair realized he had made the right decision by coming here. He had reached the limit of what he could think through alone. His next obvious move had been Pell. But if Pell vanished or was exposed too early, Roe would feel the change, tighten his operation, and perhaps stop moving cargo altogether until things cooled. Going directly after Roe himself was worse. Hedra had already taught him what happened when he underestimated a higher-level opponent. Roe would be even more dangerous, if only because of what he could make other people do.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

So he had involved someone else.

He had not done it because he wanted help. His own approach had simply become too narrow.

Lucien, still thinking aloud, continued. “The proper path would be gathering more information first. Start below him. Build evidence carefully. Follow the shards if possible. Tie the cargo, the payment, the carriers, and the movement into one chain. Then act on all of them at once, before anyone can clean the evidence.”

The masked man spoke for the first time in several breaths. “That would take time.”

“Yes.”

“And if I keep looking, Roe will notice sooner or later.”

“Probably.”

The man behind the mask was silent again. He did not like the answer. Lucien could tell that much.

Eventually the masked man said, “Then there isn’t an easy way to do this.”

Lucien’s mouth twitched. “No. There rarely is, once influence gets involved.”

Influence, not the strength of stats or a class, but another kind of power. Alistair understood it better now than he had before entering this house. Roe’s connections, reputation, and use to the town were armor.

The masked man gave a small nod. “I see. I suppose you’re right.”

Lucien looked mildly satisfied at being listened to, growing careless for a moment. He had grown too engaged in the problem. He seemed to forget, briefly, that he was speaking with a masked trespasser who had somehow acquired stolen records and was almost certainly involved in more than he admitted.

“There is another option,” Lucien said, then paused.

He disliked even saying that much.

“What option?” the stranger asked.

Lucien chose his words carefully. “If town officers happened to encounter an emergency requiring immediate intervention for public safety, then prior consent would not be necessary to enter private property connected to that emergency.”

The masked man did not speak.

Lucien continued just as carefully. “And if, during that intervention, we happened to discover something highly illegal, then the investigation would move very quickly. Especially if the matter became public too fast to suppress.”

The pause that followed was longer this time.