Chương 85: Chapter 83. Good Guard, Bad Guard

"You haven't touched your sandwich," Valiant said, gesturing with a small paw toward the untouched plate.

"It's quite good, you know." The young man across the table—Rennik—glanced nervously at the enormous freeman looming in the corner, then back at the sandwich.

"I'm... not hungry," he mumbled.

"Not hungry?" Valiant's whiskers twitched indignantly.

"It's been six hours since we brought you here. Everyone gets hungry after six hours."

"Maybe he thinks it's poisoned," Thormund rumbled, arms crossed over his massive chest.

"Smart. I would have poisoned it." Valiant spun around.

"Thormund! We did not poison the sandwich! We talked about this!"

"Did not say we did, little boss. Said I would have."

"It's a really good sandwich," Valiant insisted, turning back to Rennik.

"I made it myself. With a special cheese I've been working on for weeks. It's got these wonderful herbs from the southern valleys mixed right in." Adom sat quietly, watching the exchange with detached interest.

"Look," Valiant continued, pushing the plate a little closer to Rennik, "we're not savages here." He paused.

"Well, I mean none of us are savages, obviously, but we're also not trying to hurt you. That's what I meant." This made no sense at all. Adom wanted to say.

"What the little boss is trying to say," Thormund clarified, "is that we just want information. Nothing complicated." Why didn't he just say that from the start? Rennik swallowed hard.

"I told you already. I'm just a courier. I deliver messages, small packages. That's it."

"And yet," Adom finally spoke, "you were the one who threw the explosive at our warehouse. The one that nearly killed me and my friend."

"I didn't—I wasn't trying to—" Rennik stuttered. Thormund pushed off from the wall.

"You weren't trying to what? Kill them? Just maim them a little?"

"I didn't know anyone would be inside!" Rennik protested, his voice rising.

"They told me the warehouse would be empty!"

"And that makes it better?" Valiant asked, whiskers quivering indignantly.

"Destroying someone's property is fine as long as they're not home?" He nudged the plate again.

"The sandwich really is good by the way. Just a small bite?"

"I—I just—" Rennik looked down at his hands, ignoring the sandwich.

"I was just following orders." Adom leaned forward slightly.

"Whose orders? Who told you to bomb our warehouse?"

"Deroq. He's the operations manager." Rennik still wouldn't meet their eyes.

"He handles all the... competitive adjustments."

"Competitive adjustments," Valiant repeated, trying to sound menacing but coming across more like a confused schoolteacher.

"Is that what you call attempted murder these days?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like that!" Rennik insisted.

"It was just supposed to be a warning!"

"A warning," Thormund said flatly.

"With explosives."

"No, I-" Rennik said quickly."

"Warning jobs are... they're meant to scare competitors. Usually it's just property damage. Breaking windows, damaging merchandise. Things that can be fixed but cost money and time." He glanced nervously at Adom.

"Never when people are around. That's the rule. No one gets hurt. That's all it was supposed to be. Scare you off. Make you reconsider your business plans."

"What business plans specifically?" Adom asked, eyes narrowing.

"What about our guild concerns the Crimson Scale so much?" Rennik hesitated. Thormund took a step forward.

"The mage asked you a question." He touched the handle of his axe.

"Should I give you a good reason to talk?"

"That won't be necessary," Adom said calmly.

"Rennik's going to tell us everything he knows. Because he understands his situation. Right, Rennik?"

"Your sponsors," Rennik blurted out.

"Guildmaster Mavarin found out you had backing from several powerful merchant houses. She said you were being positioned to challenge our trade routes." Adom and Valiant exchanged a look.

"How did they find out who our backers were?" Adom asked.

"Those arrangements were meant to be private." Rennik shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know. I just follow orders."

"Seems like your orders nearly got people killed," Valiant said, his tail swishing rapidly back and forth.

"That's a serious violation of the Merchant's Code." He pushed the plate even closer.

"Please try the sandwich? I've been experimenting with this cheese for months." Adom glanced at the sandwich, then at Valiant. Did he not say weeks at first?

"I didn't know!" Rennik's voice cracked.

"You have to believe me!" Adom studied him for a long moment.

"What's happening at the Crimson Scale right now? What are they planning next?" Rennik shook his head.

"I don't know. They don't tell people like me about plans." He hesitated, then added, "But they've been turning away new applicants. Usually they're always hiring, but Velth said no new faces until this 'situation' is resolved." Adom's expression shifted subtly.

"No new hires," he repeated softly.

"Interesting."

"Makes sense," Valiant said.

"They're worried about spies."

"Like anyone would trust this one with sensitive information," Thormund said, nodding at Rennik.

"They don't!" Rennik protested.

"I'm just a courier!"

"A courier who throws bombs," Thormund reminded him.

"That was just this once! I don't usually—" Rennik caught himself.

"I mean, I've never done anything like that before."

"And yet you did it so well," Adom observed coolly.

"Almost as if you'd had practice." Rennik opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, looking miserable. After a moment, he reached out with a shaking hand and took a small bite of the sandwich. Valiant's ears perked up immediately.

"Well? What do you think?" Rennik chewed slowly, then swallowed.

"It's... it's actually really good." Valiant beamed.

"I knew it! The rosemary makes all the difference. Adom, you should try it too." Adom looked momentarily distracted.

"What? Oh. Perhaps later."

"I'll save you one," Valiant promised, looking utterly delighted. Adom stood suddenly.

"Valiant, Thormund, a word?" He gestured toward the door.

"Stay," Thormund told Rennik with a menacing stare.

"Finish your sandwich." Rennik nodded quickly, taking another small bite as they left. Once outside, Adom closed the door and turned to his companions.

"We need to get someone inside the Crimson Scale," he said without preamble. Valiant's tail swished thoughtfully.

"But they're not hiring."

"The boy just said so," Thormund agreed.

"No new faces."

"Not new faces," Adom said, a slight smile playing at his lips.

"But what about an old face?" Valiant's eyes widened as understanding dawned.

"You mean..."

"Rennik," Adom confirmed.

"They're already expecting him back. They know he was at the warehouse. If he returns with a convincing story about how he escaped..."

"But he won't return to Crimson Scale just to spy for us," Thormund pointed out.

"No," Adom agreed.

"He won't." Thormund looked at Valiant.

"Little boss, didn't you want to be the bad guard in there?"

"Yeah. I was. Wasn't I?"

"You made him a sandwich with your special cheese," Thormund said flatly.

"Well, yes, but I was asking intimidating questions while he ate it." Adom frowned.

"What are you two talking about? Bad guard?"

"It's 'bad guard, good guard,'" Thormund explained.

"Interrogation technique. One person threatens, one person offers comfort. Makes suspect open up."

"I read about it in a book," Valiant added enthusiastically.

"It's very effective! The suspect bonds with the good guard out of relief and shares all their secrets."

"And you were supposed to be the bad guard?" Adom asked Valiant, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Valiant said proudly, then deflated slightly.

"I mean, I was trying to be."

"You gave him your special cheese sandwich," Adom pointed out again.

"I wanted to see if he liked it," Valiant admitted.

"I've been working on that recipe for weeks." So, weeks it is then. Adom thought. Thormund shook his head.

"Worst bad guard ever."

"Next time, I'll be much more intimidating," Valiant promised.

"I've been practicing my growl." He was about to attempt a growl when Adom sighed.

"Let's focus on the matter at hand. We need someone inside the Crimson Scale." Valiant frowned, tail swishing faster.

"We can't force Rennik to spy for us. That would be unethical." Adom and Thormund both looked at him.

"What?" Valiant asked defensively.

"It would be!"

"We won't send Rennik," Adom said.

"We'll send someone else. As Rennik." Valiant's whiskers twitched in confusion.

"I don't follow."

"Remember that mask I made the last time?"

"The face changing mask?" Thormund asked, his normally gruff voice tinged with unease.

"The little boss told me about that. Getting caught with that kind of deception inside the Crimson Scale headquarters... that's asking for a quick burial, mage."

"Yes," Adom agreed.

"But also our best chance to know what they're planning before they do it."

"Wait," Valiant said, standing on his tiptoes in excitement.

"Are you suggesting we send someone disguised as Rennik into the Crimson Scale? As a spy?"

"I am." Valiant was practically bouncing now.

"Oh! Oh! I'll do it! I've always wanted to be a spy! I can wear a tiny hat and everything!" Adom and Thormund exchanged glances.

"Little boss," Thormund said gently, "the mask can't turn a mouse into a human." He turned to Adom.

"Right?"

"Right."

"Oh." Valiant's ears drooped.

"Right."

"Besides," Adom added, "we need you here, coordinating things."

"Of course," Valiant straightened, trying to look dignified.

"That makes strategic sense."

"So who will wear the mask?" Thormund asked.

They re-entered the room to find Rennik had finished the entire sandwich, the plate now empty save for a few crumbs. Valiant's eyes lit up.

"It was that good, wasn't it?" Rennik looked embarrassed, caught between fear and the undeniable fact that he'd devoured the food.

"It was... very good. Thank you."

"See?" Valiant said triumphantly to Adom and Thormund.

"I told you the rosemary makes all the difference." Thormund moved suddenly toward Rennik, who flinched back in his chair.

"Please," Rennik stammered, "I've told you everything I know, I swear!" Thormund grabbed him by the shoulder with his one massive hand and pulled him to his feet. Rennik went pale.

"I don't want to die," he whispered, eyes wide with terror.

"Please, I have a sister—""Hold still," Thormund commanded, producing a measuring tape from his pocket. Rennik blinked in confusion as the freeman stretched the tape from the floor to the top of his head. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"Five foot eleven," Thormund announced.

"What—what are you doing?" Rennik asked, bewildered. Adom approached, studying Rennik's features. He reached out and plucked a single hair from the young man's head.

"Ow!" Rennik yelped.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," Valiant said cheerfully, gathering up the empty plate.

"Think of it as... tailoring."

"Tailoring?" Rennik repeated, growing more confused by the second.

"You said the sandwich was very good?" Valiant asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"I—yes, but what are you—""Thormund," Adom interrupted, "would you mind escorting our guest back to his accommodations? I think we're done here for now." The freeman nodded, placing a hand on Rennik's shoulder.

"Come, little man. Back to comfortable room."

"But what's happening?" Rennik asked as he was guided toward the door.

"What was all that about?"

"Just measuring," Thormund said simply.

"For records." After Thormund had led a still-protesting Rennik away, Adom and Valiant stepped back into the hallway.

"So," Adom said, examining the single hair he'd plucked, "we need someone who's five foot eleven, male, and willing to spend a few days getting briefed and observing Rennik to learn his mannerisms and tendencies."

"And then we send them into the Crimson Scale," Valiant continued, tail swishing excitedly.

"Disguised as Rennik."

"Exactly," Adom confirmed.

"Once there, they can gather information about the Crimson Scale's plans, their security arrangements, and anything else that might give us an advantage."

"Plenty of my men are five-eleven," Valiant said.

"And several have done infiltration work before. I can have a list of candidates by morning."

"Good," Adom nodded.

"We'll need someone who can think quickly and maintain the deception under pressure."

"That won't be a problem," Valiant assured him.

"My people are the best." Adom tucked the stolen hair carefully into a small vial he produced from his pocket.

"One last thing," he said.

"Once our spy is inside, we'll need a way to communicate with them." Valiant's eyes widened.

"The communication crystals!"

"Exactly," Adom said.

"A prototype, modified for this specific purpose. Small enough to hide, but powerful enough to transmit across the city."

"Then it's settled," Adom said.

"The Crimson Scale is about to have an uninvited guest."

Five days later... The wind whipped around the top of the lighthouse, making Adom's robes snap like angry flags. He paid it no mind, his attention fixed on the small, intricate device in his hands. The eternal flame behind him cast a warm glow over his work, its light never wavering despite the gusts that would have extinguished any normal fire. Adom carefully traced a finger over the final rune, checking his work for the third time.

The device itself was deceptively simple-looking--a crystal orb the size of an apple, encased in a delicate lattice of silver and copper wire. The runes inscribed along the metal framework glowed with a faint blue light.

"Making progress?" Cass's voice came from behind him. Adom didn't look up.

"Almost done," he replied, reaching for his engraving tool. With a steady hand, he inscribed one final, tiny rune at the junction where three silver wires met. As he completed the last stroke, the entire pattern pulsed once, then settled into a gentle, consistent glow.

"There," he said, sitting back on his heels.

"I am done." Cass approached, crouching beside him to examine his handiwork. The wind tossed her hair across her face, and she absently tucked it behind her ear, leaning in closer to the device.

"It's... pretty," she said after a moment. Adom glanced at her with mild surprise.

"You like pretty things?"

"Everyone likes pretty things," Cass replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but like..." Adom hesitated, gesturing vaguely.

"Girly pretty things, you know?" Cass looked down at the orb, which resembled nothing so much as an expensive piece of jewelry. The crystal caught the light of the eternal flame, refracting it into tiny rainbows that danced across the stonework of the lighthouse platform.

"There's nothing wrong with liking 'girly pretty things,'" Cass said, making air quotes with her fingers.

"But that's not what this is. This is elegant design. Elegant design is..." She paused, searching for the right word.

"Efficient?" Adom suggested.

"I was going to say beautiful," Cass corrected.

"But efficient works too." Adom nodded thoughtfully, then placed his hands on either side of the orb. Closing his eyes, he began to channel mana into the device. The glow of the runes intensified, changing from blue to a vibrant purple as the crystal at the center began to pulse with inner light.

"What does it do, exactly?" Cass asked, watching the transformation with interest.

"It's a signal amplifier," Adom explained, opening his eyes but maintaining his concentration on the flow of mana.

"You know how communication crystals work through the mana field?"

"They transmit vibrations through ambient mana," Cass said, nodding.

"Like ripples in water."

"Right. And like ripples, they dissipate with distance," Adom continued.

"After about half a mile, you can't hear anything but static. This device..." He nodded at the glowing orb.

"This takes those scattered ripples and focuses them, makes them more linear. More purposeful."

"Like turning ripples into a directed stream," Cass suggested.

"Exactly," Adom said, looking pleased.

"It doesn't create more signal--it just organizes what's already there. Makes it more efficient."

"And we're hiding it here because..."

"Height. The higher we place it, the farther the signal can travel. From this lighthouse, we should be able to cover most of the city." Cass gazed out at the sprawl of buildings and streets below, the evening lights just beginning to twinkle as dusk settled over the isles.

"How far will the crystals work now?"

"With this?" Adom considered.

"Three miles, maybe four. Clear transmission, minimal loss." Cass frowned slightly.

"That's not the whole city, though."

"No," Adom agreed.

"Greater Arkhos is too large for a single device. But this is the first node." He gestured to the orb.

"I'll set up more across key elevation points. Towers, rooftops, relay posts. Eventually, we'll cover everything--seamless communication from coast to citadel." Cass looked out at the sprawl below, quiet for a beat.

"And you're starting with the lighthouse."

"Height and symbolism," Adom said. He gave the device one final pulse of mana, then removed his hands. The orb continued to glow on its own, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

"How's the release going for tonight? Is everything ready?" A smile spread across Cass's face.

"The merchants are practically fighting each other to get their hands on the first batch. We have orders for three hundred pairs already."

"Three hundred? That's more than we anticipated."

"The Banking Guild signed on this morning," Cass explained.

"They want to equip all their couriers. Said it would revolutionize fund transfers."

"It will," Adom agreed.

"A message that would take an hour to deliver on foot can now be transmitted instantly."

"That's what I told them," Cass said. She stood, brushing dust from her clothes.

"The pricing model worked exactly as we discussed. The initial crystals at premium rates, with subscription fees for maintenance and updates."

"And the merchants agreed to those terms?"

"They couldn't sign fast enough," Cass said.

"When you demonstrate how much time and money they'll save by being able to communicate across the city in real time..." She spread her hands.

"They did the math themselves." Adom carefully positioned the amplifier in the small alcove they had prepared, just behind the eternal flame. The heat wouldn't affect it, and the flame itself would mask the glow of the orb from casual observation.

"Good," Adom nodded.

"And the demonstration tonight?"

"Everything is arranged," Cass confirmed.

"The guild hall will be packed. We've invited representatives from every major merchant house, plus city officials. Even a few nobles expressed interest." Adom stood, dusting off his hands.

"Nobles? That's unexpected."

"Not really," Cass said with a small smile.

"The ruling class has always been quick to adopt anything that might give them an advantage. The idea of instant communication across their estates is very appealing."

"I suppose it would be," Adom agreed. He cast one final glance at the hidden amplifier, barely visible now behind its covering. Cass glanced at her timepiece.

"What will you be doing tonight during the demonstration?"

"I'll be at the academy writing that essay for Master Lorell," Adom said.

"Perfect alibi while I control the golem remotely."

"And if this works..."

"The Crimson Scale loses their primary income source overnight," Adom finished.

"Their entire business model collapses just as we introduce our alternative." Cass nodded.

"Tresh will know it wasn't an accident."

"That's the point. We need her desperate, making mistakes."

"Well," Cass said, adjusting her protective necklace, "I should go meet the Lightbringers. Good luck with your 'homework.'""Good luck with your merchants," Adom replied as she headed for the stairs.

Tam approached the Crimson Scale's eastern office with measured steps, neither too hurried nor too cautious. The building rose three stories above the commercial district, its sandstone facade adorned with the guild's emblem—a stylized scale, dipped in red. Two guards flanked the main entrance, their posture casual but their eyes alert. He felt the mask against his skin—not physically, there was no sensation of something covering his face, but he was acutely aware of its presence.

Thormund had warned him about this. The magical construct didn't just change his appearance; it wrapped him in someone else's identity. It was deeply unsettling, hearing Rennik's voice emerge from his mouth, feeling gestures and mannerisms that weren't his own come naturally. The past five days of preparation had been intense—hours spent interviewing the real Rennik, learning his speech patterns, his relationships, the names of colleagues he mentioned only in passing.

Tam had nodded, memorizing everything from Rennik's walking gait to the way he rubbed his temple when thinking. Now, approaching the guards, he was grateful for that preparation. Remember the story. Stick to it. Don't embellish unless you have to. As he approached, one of the guards straightened.

"Hold there," the man called, hand resting casually on his sword hilt. Tam stopped, raising his hands slightly in a non-threatening gesture.

"It's me," he said, Rennik's voice emerging from his throat.

"Rennik. I need to speak with Deroq." The guard squinted, then his eyes widened in recognition.

"Rennik? Where the hell have you been? Deroq's had search parties out for days."

"I was captured," Tam said, letting a hint of exhaustion seep into his voice.

"The Wangara people. Just managed to get away this morning." The second guard stepped forward, studying him closely.

"You look like shit."

"Feel worse," Tam replied, running a hand through his hair—Rennik's hair, technically. The gesture came almost naturally.

"Better get inside," the first guard said, stepping aside.

"Deroq will want to debrief you immediately." Tam nodded, suppressing a surge of triumph as he passed between them and entered the building. The first hurdle cleared. The entrance hall was busy with guild members and clerks bustling about their evening duties. A few glanced his way, but no one paid him special attention. Just Rennik, returned from whatever errand they assumed he'd been on. He made his way toward the stairs. Second floor, third door on the right—Deroq's office. The guy better be right.

Before he could reach the stairs, a stocky woman intercepted him. She had iron-gray hair cut practically short, a round face weathered by years but still holding warmth in its creases, and sharp eyes that missed nothing despite their motherly gaze.

"Rennik!" she exclaimed, relief crossing her features.

"Where have you been, boy? Deroq's been in a state thinking you'd gotten yourself killed." Tam hesitated, studying her. The real Rennik had described several managers, but it had been a blur of names and positions. This woman seemed important, someone Rennik obviously knew well.

"... Velth?" he ventured, trying to sound more exhausted than uncertain. Her smile widened, confirming he'd guessed correctly.

"You look like you've been dragged behind a carriage for miles," she said, clasping his shoulder with a sturdy hand.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not really," Tam admitted, which was true enough. His stomach had been too knotted with anxiety to manage more than a few bites since donning the mask.

"Well, get yourself to Deroq first," she said, patting his shoulder.

"He'll have my hide if I delay you. But come find me after. I'll have something waiting in the kitchens."

"Thanks, Velth," he said. The woman nodded and continued on her way. Tam climbed the stairs, his heart rate picking up. The real test would be Deroq, Rennik's direct superior. The man knew him well, oversaw his daily work. If anyone would spot inconsistencies, it would be him. He reached the door—solid oak with a brass nameplate—and knocked twice.

"Enter," called a gruff voice from within. Tam pushed the door open to find a lean, hard-faced man behind a desk cluttered with ledgers and correspondence. Deroq looked up, his quill freezing mid-stroke as recognition dawned.

"Close the door," he said sharply. Tam obeyed, then stood at attention, the way Rennik told him was expected. Deroq stared at him for a long moment, then set his quill down.

"One week," he said, his voice deceptively quiet.

"One week without word. The warehouse job was supposed to take two hours. Where have you been?"

"Captured, sir," Tam replied, letting his shoulders slump slightly.

"The Wangara people. They were at the warehouse when I arrived."

"Wangara," Deroq repeated, his eyes narrowing.

"They really captured you?"

"Yes, sir. They had a mage with them. And a freeman. Huge man."

"How did you escape?" Tam hesitated, then shook his head.

"I.. I managed to escape this morning when their guard got careless." Deroq leaned back in his chair, studying Tam with calculating eyes.

"And what did you tell them?"

"Nothing important, sir," Tam said quickly.

"My name, my position here. Basic things they could verify anyway. I didn't tell them anything about our operations or..." He trailed off, as if suddenly remembering something important. Deroq leaned forward.

"What is it?"

"They're working with the Silvester guild, sir," Tam said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I overheard them discussing it while they thought I was unconscious. The younger one—the mage—he mentioned meeting with Silvester representatives. Something about dividing shipping routes once they'd dealt with us." Deroq's expression darkened.

"Silvester? You're certain?"

"Yes, sir. I heard it clearly." Deroq stood abruptly, pacing behind his desk.

"This changes things. Silvester has been looking for an opening against us for years. If they're backing Wangara..."

"There's more, sir," Tam pressed, seeing his opening.

"They were talking about a warehouse. Something valuable stored there that would 'cripple' us if anything happened to it."

"The dye stockpile," Deroq said immediately.

"It has to be." Tam feigned surprise.

"The main stockpile, sir? The one near the eastern harbor?" Deroq nodded grimly.

"We consolidated our inventory last month. Everything's in one location now—more efficient for distribution." He muttered a curse.

"If they're targeting that..."

"Should we move it, sir?"

"Too late for that. It would take days to relocate safely." Deroq strode to the door and yanked it open.

"Kerrin!" he bellowed down the hallway. A young woman appeared moments later, clipboard in hand.

"Sir?"

"Double the guard on the eastern warehouse. Immediately. And send word to Guildmaster Tresh that I need to speak with her urgently."

"Yes, sir," Kerrin said, hurrying away. Deroq turned back to Tam.

"You'll need to provide a full report. Everything you saw, everyone you spoke with at Wangara."

"Of course, sir," Tam nodded.

"But first," Deroq continued, "we need to verify your story. Standard procedure after capture." He gestured to a chair across from his desk.

"Sit. I'll call for Marwen to seek the truth." Tam's heart skipped a beat. A truth seeker? That hadn't been part of the briefing. Would magic be able to detect the mask, or the deception beneath it?

"Is that necessary, sir?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I've told you everything."

"Standard procedure," Deroq repeated firmly.

"Not my decision to make. Guildmaster's orders after the Lumina incident." Tam racked his brain for any information in Rennik's memories about this procedure. There was something... a vague recollection of a mage who could sense deception without fully reading thoughts. Not a full mind-reading, but something that could detect lies. Before he could formulate a response, the door behind him opened again.

"Deroq, I need those shipment manifests for--" The voice stopped abruptly. Tam turned, and the world seemed to slow down. A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard stood in the doorway, holding a stack of papers. His eyes widened in recognition.

"Rennik?" the man said.

"You're back." Marco. It was Marco. Tam felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. The mask couldn't help him here.

"Yes," Tam managed, hoping his shock would be interpreted as exhaustion.

"Just got back." Marco studied him for a moment, then looked to Deroq.

"I heard shouting. Is everything alright?"

"Wangara and Silvester are plotting against us," Deroq said grimly.

"Targeting the dye stockpile." Marco's eyebrows rose.

"Are you certain?"

"Rennik overheard them while in captivity." Marco turned his attention back to Tam, his gaze suddenly more intense.

"What exactly did you hear?" Tam opened his mouth to repeat his fabricated story, but before he could speak, a sound like distant thunder rolled through the building. Everyone froze. The thunder came again, louder this time, followed by shouts from outside. Deroq moved to the window, yanking aside the curtain. His face went pale in the fading evening light.

"Gods above," he whispered. Tam rose, moving to the window alongside Marco. In the distance, toward the eastern harbor, an orange glow was rising into the darkening sky. Black smoke billowed upward, and even from here, they could see figures running toward the blaze.

"The warehouse," Deroq said, his voice hollow.

"They've hit the warehouse."

"That's not possible," Marco said, his face tight with disbelief.

"How could they have—" The rest of his words were drowned out by a third explosion, this one loud enough to rattle the windows in their frames. The orange glow intensified, becoming a roaring inferno visible even from this distance.

"All of it," Deroq said, something like despair in his voice.

"The entire year's supply."

The golem moved through the burning warehouse, its armor impervious to the flames that raged around it. Through its eyes, Adom watched as barrels of crimson dye burst in the heat, their precious contents spilling across the floor in rivers of deep red. It looked like blood. The mission had been simple—place the explosive charges at key structural points, detonate them in sequence, ensure the destruction was complete.

Three explosions, spaced precisely to allow the fire to spread between detonations, maximizing the damage. The first explosion had taken out the support columns on the eastern wall. The second had targeted the storage racks themselves, toppling them like dominoes and spreading the flammable dye across the floor. The third—the largest—had breached the main storage vats, releasing thousands of gallons of concentrated dye into the already raging fire. The warehouse was beyond saving.

By morning, nothing would remain but charred timber and congealed puddles of ruined product. Adom was about to leave, his mission complete. As the golem turned, Adom saw a fallen guard, overcome by smoke but still breathing. Without breaking stride, the golem reached down and dragged the unconscious man toward the door, depositing him outside where others would find him. Outside, chaos reigned. Guild workers formed bucket chains from the harbor, a futile effort against the intensity of the blaze.

Officers shouted orders that went unheeded in the panic. In the distance, the city watch bells began to ring, summoning aid that would arrive too late to make any difference. The Crimson Scale's entire dye stockpile—destroyed in a single night. Their primary source of income. By tomorrow, word would spread throughout the city. By the day after, throughout the isles. The price of crimson dye would skyrocket as supply vanished overnight. And into that vacuum, Wangara Guild would step with their synthetic alternative.

Blip The golem was instantly in front of him. In his dorm. Adom's hand reached for the communication crystal in his ear.

"Cass," he said softly.

"It's done."