The summons came at dawn.
A palace messenger in formal livery appeared at the Cracked Bell with a sealed letter bearing Edrin's crest. I broke the seal and read the single line inside.
*The prince requests your presence. This morning. Bring what you found.*
No pleasantries. No explanation. Just a command dressed up as a request.
I dressed quickly and armed myself. Joss offered to come, but I shook my head. This was a conversation that needed to happen alone, without witnesses who might complicate what I needed to say.
The palace was exactly as overwhelming as the first time. White stone and colored glass, guards in imperial colors at every corner, courtiers moving through halls with the practiced grace of people who'd spent their lives navigating power. I followed the messenger through corridors I didn't recognize until we reached a private study in the east wing.
Edrin stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the city. He didn't turn when I entered.
"Close the door," he said.
I did. The messenger retreated, leaving us alone.
Edrin turned finally, and I saw something in his expression I hadn't expected. Not smugness or political calculation, but genuine curiosity. Maybe even respect.
"You've been busy, Captain," he said.
"That's what you're paying me for."
"I'm not paying you. I'm protecting you. There's a difference." He crossed to a desk and gestured to a chair. "Sit. Show me what you have."
I remained standing. "I found proof of ministerial coordination. Direct authorization for the Cast Runner's operations. Instructions for which routes to target, which merchants to pressure, which garrisons to delay."
His expression sharpened. "You have documents?"
"Copies. The originals are still in play. If we take them now, Maros Welle disappears and the trail goes cold."
"Smart." He leaned against the desk, studying me. "You're better at this than I expected."
"At what?"
"Court games. Investigation. Knowing when to push and when to wait." He tilted his head. "Most Wardens I've met are all duty and no subtlety. But you, you understand how power actually works."
"I understand that evidence means nothing if no one with authority is willing to act on it."
"Exactly." He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's why we're going to work well together, Captain. You find the truth, I make sure it matters."
I pulled out the copied pages and set them on the desk. Edrin picked them up, reading slowly, his expression darkening with each line.
"Three ministers," he said quietly. "Maybe more. All taking payments to keep the border unstable."
"Yes."
"Do you know what this means? If we expose this, if we bring these names forward, half the court will turn on us. The other half will scramble to cover their own involvement."
"I know."
"And you still want to proceed?"
"I didn't come to Cerasis to make friends. I came to get justice."
He set the papers down and looked at me, really looked at me, like he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before.
"You're serious," he said. "You actually believe you can change things."
"I have to try."
"Why?"
The question caught me off guard. Not because I didn't have an answer, but because no one had asked it so directly.
"Because people are dying," I said. "Because the border is burning while the court plays games. Because someone has to care enough to stop it."
Edrin was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved closer, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, smell the expensive oils in his hair.
"You're remarkable," he said quietly. "Do you know that?"
I stepped back. "We should discuss strategy. How to present this evidence without getting killed."
"In a moment." He didn't move, just watched me with that same unsettling intensity. "Tell me something, Captain. What do you want? Not justice, not duty. What do you actually want for yourself?"
"That's not relevant."
"It's the only thing that's relevant. Everyone wants something. Power, wealth, safety, love. What drives you when the duty is done?"
"The duty is never done."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
His smile widened, amused rather than offended. "Fascinating. You're either the most selfless person I've ever met, or the most damaged. I can't decide which."
"Does it matter?"
"To me? Yes." He reached out, slowly, giving me time to pull away. His fingers brushed my jaw, light as air. "Because I'm trying to understand why someone like you ended up in my city, disrupting my court, making me actually care about something other than my own advancement."
I caught his wrist and moved his hand away. Firmly, but not harshly. "We're not doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Whatever you think this is. I'm here for the investigation. Nothing else."
"Are you sure about that?" His voice dropped lower. "Because from where I'm standing, you seem very aware of me, Captain. The way you're holding yourself. The way your pulse jumped when I touched you. You can pretend this is purely professional, but we both know better."
He wasn't wrong. I was aware of him, in a way that was both inconvenient and dangerous. Aware of his proximity, his charisma, the way power radiated from him like heat from a fire.
But awareness wasn't the same as wanting.
"I'm aware of a lot of things," I said evenly. "Threats. Opportunities. People who might betray me. That doesn't mean I act on every impulse."
"Pity." He stepped back, the moment breaking. "You'd be remarkable if you ever let yourself actually live instead of just surviving."
"I'll take that under advisement." I picked up the papers. "Now, about the evidence."
His expression shifted back to business, the prince reasserting control over whatever had slipped through. "We stage a presentation. Controlled environment, select audience. We bring in witnesses who can corroborate, present the documents as part of a larger pattern. And we make sure the Emperor hears it directly, not through intermediaries who might bury it."
"When?"
"Soon. But not yet. We need more. One ledger, one warehouse, one set of payments, that's a scandal. But multiple streams, multiple witnesses, a complete network, that's treason. And treason is what gets action."
"How long?"
"A week. Maybe two. Use the time to finish mapping Maros Welle's operations. Find his safe houses, his couriers, his payment routes. When we present this, I want it airtight."
I nodded. "Agreed."
"Good." He walked me to the door, then paused. "Captain. One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Be careful. The people you're investigating, they're not fools. If they realize how close you are, they'll come for you. And I can only protect you so far."
"I can protect myself."
"I'm sure you can. But humor me and try not to get killed before we finish this." He opened the door. "I've grown rather fond of you."
I left before he could see my reaction to that.
When I got back to the Cracked Bell, Joss was waiting with news.
"We found another courier," he said. "Maer's been tracking him since yesterday. He's making a drop tonight, near the river docks."
"Show me."
We gathered in my room, spreading out the maps and notes we'd accumulated. Maer pointed to a section of the docks, a warehouse district similar to the one we'd infiltrated before.
"He's been there twice in the past three days," Maer said. "Always at night, always alone. I think it's another safe house."
"Or a meeting point," I said. "If Maros is coordinating operations, he needs places to meet his brokers and runners without drawing attention."
"We stake it out?" Joss asked.
"We do better. We intercept the courier before he makes the drop. See what he's carrying."
"And if he fights?"
"Then we make him talk."
Maer set down the map and looked at me. His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension beneath it. The distance that had opened between us since his ultimatum.
"This is getting more dangerous," he said quietly. "Every move we make, we're closer to the center. And the center is where people disappear."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're pushing harder and harder, like you're trying to reach some kind of ending that doesn't exist."
"Maer..."
"I'm not asking you to stop. I'm asking you to be careful. To remember that surviving this matters as much as finishing it."
I wanted to say something. Wanted to bridge the gap that had opened between us. But I didn't know how.
"I'll be careful," I said.
He nodded, but the distance remained.
We moved on the courier after sunset.
He appeared exactly when Maer's surveillance suggested, moving through the docks with the practiced ease of someone who'd made this trip many times. We let him reach the warehouse district, then Joss stepped out ahead while I came up behind.
The courier froze, hand going to his belt. I pressed my blade to his back.
"Don't," I said quietly.
He slowly raised his hands. "I'm just a messenger. I don't want trouble."
"Then cooperate. What are you carrying?"
"Correspondence. Private business."
"Show me."
He hesitated, then reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. The wax bore a mark I didn't recognize, but the paper was expensive, high quality.
Joss took it and broke the seal. Inside was a single sheet, covered in coded writing. Numbers, initials, locations.
"It's instructions," Joss said. "Payment schedules. Drop points. This is operational coordination."
I looked at the courier. "Who gave this to you?"
"I don't know. I pick them up at a post station, deliver them to an address. I never see who sends them."
"What address?"
"Changes every time. Tonight it's a warehouse on the south dock, third from the pier."
"Who receives them?"
"I don't know. I leave them at the door, knock twice, and go. I never see anyone."
I glanced at Joss. He nodded toward the warehouse the courier had indicated.
"Take us there," I said.
"I can't. If they find out I brought someone..."
"Then don't get caught. Walk normal, make the delivery, and leave. We'll handle the rest."
He looked between us, weighing his options, then nodded slowly.
We followed at a distance, watching as he approached the warehouse and knocked. The door opened just enough for him to slide the envelope through, then closed again.
The courier left quickly, disappearing into the maze of docks.
"We go in?" Joss asked.
"Not yet. We watch. See who comes out, where they go."
We settled into position across the street, hidden in the shadows of stacked crates. An hour passed. Then another.
Finally, the door opened.
A man emerged, older, well-dressed, carrying the envelope we'd just seen delivered. He moved with confidence, heading north toward the merchant district.
"Follow him," I said.
We tracked him through the streets, staying back, using the evening crowds for cover. He led us to a residential area, nicer buildings, the kind where merchants and minor nobles lived.
He entered one of them and didn't come out.
I memorized the address and we retreated.
"That's a lead," Joss said. "We can trace the building, find out who owns it."
"And we have the courier's route. If we watch the post station, we can intercept more instructions, map out the entire network."
"It's working," Joss said. "We're closing in."
I looked back at the building, at the lit windows on the second floor, and thought about Maros Welle. About the network he'd built, the people he'd bought, the chaos he'd orchestrated.
We were close. So close I could almost feel it.
But Maer's words echoed in my mind. The center is where people disappear.
I just had to make sure I reached it before it swallowed me whole.
I just had to stay alive long enough to use it.