Chương 72: Book 2: Chapter 8 - Trap House

No great achievement can be earned without trust; it is the glue that binds a movement. But trust alone cannot win the unwinnable. There comes a point when we must open our hand to a stranger, accepting that we cannot see what they hold behind their back. That is not weakness, it is bravery, and it is the cost of accomplishing the impossible."

- The Red Sash Manifesto, author unknown ISABELLA The edges of the parchment map were soggy and creasing, the cheap ink running where the sea salt spray had splattered across it. I marked Tilly's Refuge with a brass pin, pressing it into the hand drawn eastern quadrant with a frustrated sigh. It looked like a drop of blood, sitting there in the center of a mess I hadn't seen coming.

"No signal was ever issued because our scouts were incapacitated simultaneously," Kalia was saying over the sound of a whetstone scraping against steel. Her aura was flat this morning, the continued run of bad luck apparently pushing her toward apathy.

"The wards in the alley were bypassed somehow, never triggered."

"Faulty?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Unlikely. The safe was opened without so much as a warning flare going up. The runes should have been impossible to brute force without someone knowing about it at the very least." I stared at the red pin. It was impossible, we'd been so careful. Since our first failed attempts, we'd gone to extreme lengths to avoid a repeat.

Every recruit who survived Kalia's initial vetting was subjected to my max level [Aetheric Empathy] examination - with my Charisma attribute as high as it was, it would have surfaced deception from anyone lower than a Gold-Rank. I'd had years of practice reading auras down to the slightest nuance, maybe someone could have gotten away with a small lie but not this... Beyond the regular assessments, we'd employed strict operational compartmentalization.

The scouts did not know the safe combination let alone the rune configuration, and the wardens who did were not clued in on shift rotation or locations of the scouting teams. Morrigan's Greycloaks would have needed to have cracked four separate, insulated layers of security to have opened that safe without an alarm going off. So far, there was no indications they'd even done it to one.

"And Rory was certain this was Morrigan's men? This is quite an escalation." I adjusted the drape of my shawl, the cellar draft bringing a sudden chill into the room.

"Said he recognized the tattoo under the bandana... a Thorne deserter, Mack Butler." Kalia casually tested the edge of her blade with a thumb. A bright crimson bead of blood bloomed on her dark skin.

"Military tactics, he says, edge formation, coordinated clearing. Rory may not be what he once was, but I'd trust the old man to know what he was looking at."

"And yet," I started, rubbing at my temples to keep the headache from spiraling, "they failed to actually acquire the ledger?" Kalia sheathed the blade with a snap.

"A lone man dropped into the courtyard. His word, 'dropped.' Rory had never seen the man before, a drifter. Again, his word. Was wearing common laborer attire - duster cap, dirty clothes. Said he was limping a bit like he'd been through it a time or two without access to a proper healer. He took down the whole squad without even drawing a weapon. Mack Butler is a Silver-Rank CQC specialist, can't speak to the rest. This 'drifter' clearly had skills, the kind that you don't get working in the docks."

[Pattern Weaver] sifted through the information in the back of my mind as I tried to add the pieces together. A lone fighter with impressive skills appears in the city and wanders into a Greycloak operation at the exact moment we experience our greatest security breach in almost two years.

"He dismantles an entire Greycloak B-team with his bare hands, and then walks off?" I said, pacing the room.

"It doesn't add up. A mercenary? But then who's he working for?"

"He left us a message before he disappeared," Kalia said, locking eyes.

"He said his name was Caden Gray, claims he has the documents and is offering to return them. Says we have a leak." The name triggered some deep recollection somewhere in my brain, but I couldn't place it.

"Did you check the name?"

"Yes, he's in the AG database, but he was declared missing in the Clockwork Tomb disaster. Not that it could be him anyway, the Caden Gray in the database was a D-Rank nobody, would have had no chance against a trained hit squad." Kaz-Varr. Somehow everything always traced back to that mess.

"Whatever the case," she continued, "I think he's bluffing. The documents are encrypted, they'd read like merchant manifests without the cipher key, and a blind man could see we have a leak. He's looking for a payday."

"Maybe," I admitted, "but how would he know who the documents belonged to? Why would he make overtures to give them back? We have to assume the cipher is burned at any rate." I quieted my emotions, letting cold pragmatism take over.

"Rotate all active safe houses to the secondary list. Cut contact with our runners for the next two days. If Morrigan has pierced our operations somehow, we need to starve him of targets until we figure out how."

"And this Caden Gray?"

"He wanted my attention, well now he has it." I extracted [The Visage of the Silenced] from my inventory, running a finger along the cool porcelain.

"When he makes contact again, setup a meet at the old foundry outside of the city." Kalia's aura spiked orange.

"You mean to meet with him yourself? I can't allow it."

"I can take care of myself, Kal," I assured her.

"But... if worst come to worst, you'll be there to protect me." Kalia was already my most competent fighter before she'd ascended to Gold-Rank just over a month ago, now she was almost a match even for Victor. This man might be dangerous, but so were we.

"We don't know what this man is capable of - if he's working with Morrigan, or if this is some sort of secondary trap designed by Thorne to lure you out..."

"We'll come prepared."

"Prepared how? We don't have a ton of experienced fighters." I sighed, moving to a nearby table.

"Place Ren and Carver on the upper gantries here and here. Have Mira ward the main entrance with traps we can trigger from a distance." I used some bits of debris to demonstrate where I meant.

"The brasswork foundry is a labyrinth, if it comes to it we'll have multiple easy exits to get away quick."

"I don't like it..." She could see I wasn't going to budge so she just shook her head.

"And you?"

"I'll meet him on the floor. I need to see the man's face and hear him lie." I lifted the porcelain mask and pressed it to my face. It felt good. +++ MASON The skeletal remains of the old brass foundry was dusty and wet, oxidized copper smells mixed with wet rot. A late spring rain dripped through the holes in the roof pinging against metal catwalks suspended thirty feet above the former factory floor.

I didn't need to activate [Architect's Vision] or [Deep Structure] to know that I was likely surrounded, but I did it anyway, as much an impulse as anything else. The golden lattice of my System admin tool overlayed the darkness: two up in the gantry, a tether trap buried under the sediment three feet ahead, and a heavily suppressed Gold-Rank aura vibrating in the shadows to my left. Kalia, most likely. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Vex hadn't told me everything about the Red Sash operation - the man loved his secrets - but I knew enough to know she was dangerous. A former pit fighter in Everton, undefeated the rumors said, more combat experience than I'd earn in a dozen lifetimes. This Bandit Queen must be quite the woman to have Kalia as her right hand. Vex had told me next to nothing about the infamous masked vigilante, just that she was a local and worth taking seriously.

I stepped over the tether trap, reading its trigger condition just to be safe; remote detonation, not proximity. I wore the same clothes I had at Tilly's Refuge, favoring my right leg, no gloves to hide the prosthetic which was now clearly visible beneath my jacket. It felt a bit strange wearing my own face, I'd gotten so used to being William after two weeks spent in the city. I stopped in the exact center of the floor, creating maximum exposure for the two snipers. I waited.

Whatever else this woman was, she certainly had a sense for dramatic tension. Footsteps echoed from the shadows ahead, the quiet ping of rain on tin muffled by the pressure in the room. She stepped into a beam of moonlight filtering through the broken roof. She was smaller than I'd expected, lithe but curvy, a good foot shorter than me, black hair falling down her shoulders. The dark clothing was certainly on brand, form-fitting leather, a cloak draped over one shoulder.

The real show-stopper was the mask, a faceless void of white porcelain with a single silver tear under one eye. < ERROR: Status inspection failed. > My attempts to read her aura were met with cascading System failures, the prompts flashing red in my peripheral vision. Fascinating. I ignored the errors and ran [Deep Structure], examining the System layer of her disguise. The mask was a void, the overlay showing gold symbols that read as [Identity Obfuscation] in High Exaltian.

Her clothing was also enchanted, mid-level stealth enhancements that ensured she would move through even heavy crowds unnoticed. My mind flashed back to the square the first day I'd arrived, the strange void that had grabbed my attention. It had been her, she'd been watching me, hidden in plain sight. Strapped to her thigh was a dagger, unassuming but emanating a heavy mana signature that was concealed with a high-level suppression enchantment. I'd seen it before...

under a midnight-blue silk dress in a study in Ravenshall. Somewhere Vex was falling out of his custom recliner, laughing as he imagined this moment. Suddenly, it all made sense. The Dark Arts skills that didn't fit, the way she'd probed and prodded my aura at dinner, the sense of low-level hostility I'd felt from her the entire night. Isabella Thorne. I tried to keep the shock from my face but fear I failed. It was almost too perfect to believe...

the very woman William Marcell would soon be trying to turn against her father was already funding and leading the insurgency that was trying to bring him down. I compartmentalized, returning my focus to the problem in front of me. If I played this wrong, my interlocutors might turn hostile, forcing me into a tough decision I would rather avoid.

"Nice place," I said casually.

"Beautiful architecture, if a bit drafty. Imagine the breeze is nice in the summer, though." Her posture shifted slightly, feet pointing away as if preparing to move.

"Who are you, really?" she asked, her voice stripped of accent and tone, a featureless void just like her face.

"Caden Gray was reported missing in the Clockwork Tomb over a year ago, nobody has seen him since."

"Well, not nobody," I said, pointing to her as if to imply that clearly she was looking at him right now.

"I wouldn't trust everything you read in that Guild database. I've found it's wrong at least twenty percent of the time."

"I'm not here to play games with you, Mr. Gray," she said, the mask pulsing a skill that [Deep Structure] read as an intimidation tactic. Even knowing what it was, I felt it.

"You tracked our people, you interfered with our operations, you stole something that belongs to me and then you demanded an audience... what do you want?" When she put it like that, it did seem a bit hostile.

"I wasn't tracking your people, I was following a Greycloak enforcer by the name of Mack Butler. He and I have history." I'd gotten the tattooed man's identity by old fashioned investigation after the fact.

"Wrong place wrong time as it were. Truthfully, I didn't really know what I was walking into." I reached into my jacket and heard the scratch of feet on the floor - Kalia preparing to move, her aura flaring in the dark. I slowly pulled the leather folio from my pocket, tossing it on the floor between us where it landed in the dirt with a heavy thud.

"I found two men with these." I watched her shoulders, they remained still, but she tensed ever-so-slightly.

"I couldn't read them, of course, but I recognized the cipher you're using... or a version of it anyway. Ran with a crew a few years back, from the western markets south of Kelna, they used a similar setup." According to Vex, the cipher the Red Sash used had come from one of his contacts, a man named Wally Plush - if they sought him out to ask about me, he'd confirm my story.

"And what makes you think they belong to me?" she asked, not even looking at the folder.

"Process of elimination. Butler works for Morrigan, Morrigan and the Red Sash are enemies. Weren't many candidates to choose from. That, and Rory is a known rebel sympathizer."

"So you show up, run into this... who was it? Mack Butler? Then just decide to take down an entire Greycloak smash squad by yourself? Out of the goodness of your heart?"

"They were clearly after something valuable, thought I'd make an easy score." I pointed at the documents.

"Found something better."

"You think I'll pay you for stealing from me?"

"I don't want money," I said.

"I want to work for you." Her movements gave me nothing, the mask remaining an impenetrable vacuum.

"I don't know you and I certainly don't trust you. I cannot work with someone I don't trust."

"Let me earn your trust then." I let a hint of desperation sneak into my aura.

"They say you can read a man's mind, read mine." A subtle pressure formed behind my eyes, my psychic defenses sending warnings that someone was attempting a psionic intrusion. I let her in, carefully managing my thoughts and emotions with practiced discipline.

"Why do you want to work for me?"

"I was born in Eastwatch." The truth would help more than a lie, but it had to be the right truth.

"Alastair Thorne killed my parents. I'd like to see justice served." If she was surprised by that answer, she showed no sign of it.

"The Duke is hated by many, he's produced thousands of orphans, some even work for him now." My thoughts turned to William Clark, the boy whose name I'd taken, the boy whose father had died for my carelessness, the boy who wore Thorne's uniform.

"Why should I choose to trust this one?"

"I have skills that can help you, and I'm motivated. I know there's nothing I can say in this conversation that could convince you, but at least give me a chance to prove myself." She seemed to consider that, though what was going on behind that mask was anyone's guess.

"I've actually seen you before, Caden Gray." Well that was a surprise. A bluff? To what end?

"The Kaz-Varr Adventure Guild gauntlet exam, I was in attendance." It was true that Isabella Thorne had been in the city at the time, her family were high ranking members of the guild... it was possible.

"Then you know I am who I say I am."

"I've never seen someone so fully dismantle an opponent in a System-suppressed match." I'd feared that I would live to regret the display I'd put on that day, but I'd been under a bit of time pressure and hadn't had much choice.

"Where did you learn to fight?" This was tricky, if I outright lied she'd know, but I couldn't exactly tell the truth either.

"I was not always an adventurer," I started, picking my words carefully.

"And I'm much older than I look." True in a way.

"I trained under a very strong mentor for years, he taught me most of what I know. He died some years ago, only recently did I decide to pursue the life of an adventurer. A late bloomer you might say." She must not have detected a lie, the pressure in my head easing considerably as her probing withdrew.

"You're not lying, but I don't think you're telling me the whole truth either," she held a hand out toward the shadows where I knew her guard dog waited, apparently a signal to stand down.

"I'm sure you're a useful man, but I need more than usefulness in those I recruit. I need men who are predictable, and you, Mr. Gray, I fear are anything but."

"You're far too smart to throw away good help," I said, playing my last card.

"If trust is the issue, treat me as an expendable asset, lie to me if you must. I know that whatever I do for you will be in service of hurting Alastair Thorne, and that's enough for me." The Bandit Queen said nothing for a long moment and I feared I had failed.

"There may be something," she said finally, voice as lifeless as ever.

"There is an item I need, but its acquisition cannot be traced back to me."

"I'm listening."

"Acquiring it will not be easy, in fact I'd say the chances are good that you won't survive the attempt." It was unlikely she was buying my D-Rank guild status, meaning this ask was probably going to be unreasonable.

"A dungeon has opened in the wilds north of Lantoch, elven territory. There is something inside that I need you to bring back. It requires C-Rank clearance, is that a problem?" C-Rank clearance would mean passing a C-Rank guild advancement exam. I had the raid clear Title that would allow me to bypass it, but showing that off would register me as part of that dungeon clear and I couldn't have that either.

Passing the exam should be easy enough, and I could trick their readings with [Aetheric Chameleon] - it was a risk, but a small one.

"Problem? No, I don't see why it would be. What is it you want me to find?" She flipped the folio up from the ground with the tip of her foot, catching it in one movement and disappearing it into her inventory.

"There will be a dead drop on North Miller's road tomorrow morning, the hollowed post third from the end where it intersects the creek. You'll know the mark when you see it, operational details will be inside."

"That's all rather cloak and dagger, can't you just tell me?" Not bothering to answer, she turned on her heels as if to leave.

"Oh, and Caden, do hurry." And with that, she was gone, blending into the shadows, her aura signature blinking out somewhere in the forest beyond. The others were gone too, leaving me alone to consider what had just happened.

"I think I just got played," I said to the dark, thinking I should be annoyed but finding that I couldn't stop smiling.