Chương 67: Chapter 66: The Bigger Picture.

"I assure you, My Lady, I only told the people I absolutely needed to." Count Gideon looked downright haggard as he paced the length of his study, mud from his boots trailing across the simple wooden floor. I sat stiffly on his leather sofa, very aware of the drying mud caked onto the knees of my own trousers. I had spent the last hour grilling the man. Under an event he had set up, there had almost been an accident that could have really hurt a child.

Not just that, but the timing made it clear that it was no accident at all. The obvious suspect was House Greenward. He had tried to sabotage me and had almost succeeded, if Sere hadn't intervened. That much was clear. It had been a near disaster. We sat in Count Gideon's study, the same room I had been in last time. Sere sat on my right, while Anias stood in one corner of the room. I had left Damian to try to question all the staff who had been there, not that I expected anything to come of it.

This time, Count Gideon was practically falling over himself to exonerate his role in what had happened. From what I knew, Counts had been demoted for far less. Given the structure of Aelheim, there was no shortage of Viscounts who would be happy to take his place if I only said the word. I wanted to. Because of this fool, Sere had almost gotten hurt. Just thinking of that made something inside me boil.

The only problem was that there was no guarantee the same thing or worse wouldn't just happen again; instead, this time, I would have a far less competent Count to smooth things over. Count Gideon had done a remarkable job of pacifying the crowd after the incident. That was something I had been far too angry to do myself. He had managed to frame it as bad luck rather than incompetence.

"Then among these people that 'needed to know', there is clearly someone who was working for Greenward," I said, acid dripping from each word. The man seemed to flinch, but I pressed on.

"Unless, of course, you expect me to believe that this was all some kind of accident? Is that what you are asking me to believe?" The Count hung his head. At least he didn't bother with an excuse. I needed to calm down. I reached for my Gift. The mental recoil came almost immediately. I felt like a child whose hand had been slapped away right as they'd reached for the cookie jar. Confront. The Godblade muttered unhelpfully. Was I doing anything else?

"Perhaps I might be inclined to overlook this," I said finally. The silence had stretched uncomfortably long now. Count Gideon looked back up at me, evidently surprised. I had to think about it from Greenward's perspective. The goal hadn't been to injure a child; that was just a means to an end. The goal was to harm my reputation, and perhaps harm my trust in one of House Veyne's three most important pillars. The former had not gone as planned, and I had to keep myself from fulfilling the latter.

"It was no fault of your own," I said.

"Your only mistake was falling for the same ruse that I did. Julian Greenward is a rather clever man." Count Gideon slowly nodded, jaw tight and shoulders hunched. He still looked as if he was waiting for the axe to fall.

"I am not going to punish you," I said bluntly.

"As I said, I do not believe it was directly your fault."

"Truly?" He said, swallowed.

"My Lady, it could have easily been you who ended up getting hurt. The fact that you weren't is thanks to," He gestured towards Sere, who was completely unconcerned as she doodled on her notepad.

"... Your friend."

"Do not make the case against you yourself, Gideon," I said.

"I have made my decision. Of course, I still believe there is a spy among your ranks. I would have you identify them. Do not root them out. Only find out who they are." Count Gideon bowed deeply at that.

"I-it will be done, My Lady." It was rather unlikely that Count Gideon would find said man, but it wouldn't hurt to try. The more important question was just how that Cauldron had tipped over at such a perfect time. It hadn't felt like a Gift, or Anias or one of the other guards would have said something by now.

"Sere, did you notice anything? When it fell?" She looked up from her doodle and shook her head.

"Hmm…." The only thing that made sense in that case was that someone had a Gift similar to Sere's. Something almost impossible to detect. It was hard to believe that Julian Greenward would have someone like that at his command, but the man did have wealth in spades. It felt like I was overthinking things. The door opened, and a maid stuck her head in. She gave me a small bow before turning her head towards the Count.

"My Lord, there is a boy outside. He says his name is…Damian?" This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. It was a little hard to keep the smirk off my face. And it was probably best if he didn't hear himself referred to as a 'boy outside'.

"Yes, please. Let him in." Count Gideon sighed. I felt a little hopeful. If Damian had come back this early, it might mean he had found something.

"No one in the crowd looked suspicious, nor did the guards," Damian said, entering the room. He looked annoyed, cuffs stained with soot and mud. He tossed a heavy pouch onto the table; it smelled faintly of scorched stew. Damian reached into the pouch and pulled out a jagged metal strut from the stand that had snapped. He then placed another support piece beside it, this one whole and unbroken. Damian said, his jaw tight.

"I think I know what happened. Esra, can you check? It'll be faster than going to a smith." An odd comment. I stepped forward and rested a hand on the broken iron piece, then the other. To the touch, they both felt like cold metal. But Damian knew what I could do. Click. Click. I dialed up the sensitivity of my fingertips, letting the sensation flood in. The difference was immediate. The intact support leg was dense and uniform. The broken piece... it felt porous. Uneven. Brittle.

My heightened touch could spot differences invisible to the naked eye. It was a different type of iron altogether. It was definitely of a much cheaper quality. Not the kind that should have been used that day at all.

"I think I understand," I murmured thoughtfully. Count Gideon was looking at me intently, before staring down at the two pieces of metal as if staring alone would reveal to him some great secret.

"They're different materials," I said. I held up the broken piece.

"This one is likely much more brittle. It couldn't handle the weight of the cauldron, so it snapped and brought the pot down with it."

"I see." Count Gideon took the pieces from me, feeling them in his hand.

"I will have a smith confirm this as quickly as I can." So, he did not just take my word for it? That was fine. It wasn't like he knew what my Gift was.

"Where did you get the cauldron and its supports?" He looked up at me.

"I believe they were sourced from a Guild. We did not have such a thing on such short notice."

"Said Guild wouldn't happen to be located in the Greenward District, would it? That, or it's heavily backed by House Greenward." His eyes slowly widened.

"Are you suggesting he would go that far?"

"I am," I said.

"But do not misunderstand me. Your entire supplier isn't to blame. All it takes is one or two people to replace a piece when nobody's looking." This raised more unsettling implications. I could save those for another day.

"Assuming that is true," Count Gideon said, "why did the Cauldron spill at that precise moment, not earlier, when the stew was already inside? That seems to take luck. And much of it."

"It does," I agreed.

"Unless you didn't leave it to luck. Unless you could direct the weight of the boiling stew toward the shoddy leg at precisely the right moment." Damian's head snapped up.

"The cooks? Could they have done something like that?"

"If you were stirring the ladle, and just so happened to force the stew in that direction. If you channeled only the barest of mana, such that nobody could tell you'd used it at all. Then, I would say that's quite doable." I said finally. Silence fell over the room. I didn't even hear the sound of Sere's pencil scratching anymore.

"That… would be quite clever," Anias finally spoke.

"It would," I said. I looked up at Gideon.

"It seems we have found your spy, Gideon. Find him. I fear it may already be too late."Count Gideon stared at me, his own face draining of color.

"If you do find him." I whispered, "Do not hand him over to the City Watch. Bring him to me. Is that understood?" Count Gideon stared at me a moment longer. He didn't panic or shout. Instead, he looked furious. He picked up the shattered slag metal, his knuckles turning white on the metal, and gave me a stiff, rigid bow. He moved towards the door with angry, heavy steps. No doubt to do just what I had asked him. I doubted it mattered. The cook was likely gone or dead. The difference was irrelevant.

"Esra…."

"Hmm?" I turned back to regard Damian.

"What is it?"

"You can be pretty scary sometimes." They didn't find the cook. Count Gideon had been even more apologetic over that than he had been over the incident itself. Despite my constant reassurances, it did look like he was all too eager to fall on his own sword, if only I'd let him. I did not. Instead, I simply told him to keep the Soup Kitchen open and to pretend it had really been just a minor accident. If this stunt had done anything, it had at the very least bought me Count Gideon's gratitude.

We used a carriage to get back. Sere sat beside me, quietly toying with the ends of my hair, braiding and unbraiding it. I did not see the appeal, but I left her to it, my gaze fixed out the window as the afternoon sun cast shadows across the streets.

"I thought you'd figured it out," Damian murmured, sitting across from me.

"What? Is there something else?"

"No," I admitted absently, watching the city roll by.

"Nothing new. It's just becoming increasingly obvious how reliant we are on a man who is doing everything in his power to ruin us."

"You mean the trade restriction?"

"It isn't just the food, Damian. Look." I gestured outside. Damian turned his head as we passed a heavily laden cart hauling lumber. Stamped clearly on the side of the wooden crates was the emerald crest of House Greenward. A block later, a blacksmith's forge boasted a massive sign over its doors: Proud Guild Affiliate of the Eastern District -Greenward territory.

"The cauldron today was just a tiny example of a much bigger problem," I said, leaning back against the plush seat.

"The food we eat, the iron in our pots, the wood in our wagons... they all lead back to him." Aelheim was designed so that no single House could be self-sufficient. It was a cynical choice made after a near-apocalyptic war. House Greenward was supposed to handle the food, while House Indri was supposed to handle everything related to craftsmanship. House Greenward had slowly but surely absorbed that function. A standing military force was the last thing Julian Greenward had needed, and now he was going to get it.

Even if Greenward didn't do something as base as conquering the other Districts, he would still control the city in all but name.

"That…does not sound good," Damian said, finally.

"It sounds like the noose is closing in." Indeed. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that Julian Greenward had been planning something like this for some time now. My father's absence had likely just made him much more bold, given him the confidence to move out in the open.

"Esra…you do have a plan or an idea, right?" Damian had leaned forward; he was staring at me. As it happened, I did have an idea. The only problem was that said idea would shatter the illusion of this 'Five House balance' altogether. It would doubtless have to wait for after the expedition in any case.

"I do," I murmured.

"Like him, we simply need to look outside of Aelheim, too."