Holt's office door was left wide, brightness creeping out into the hall like red seeping from a new cut.
Whispers from within - quiet, strained. Aiden stopped near the door, pressed against the wall, ears tuned in.
figures tell the truth, Captain. Spears missing a dozen. Arrows down three tens. Varro's voice dragged like he'd rather stand nowhere near this spot.
"Then find the thief," Holt snapped back, voice like grinding steel. "Or did you forget how inventory works?"
Aiden moved through the entrance, his footsteps sounding off just one time.
The space felt bare, just practical - on one side, a worktable marked up by knife drills; along the walls, charts stuck down everywhere; behind Holt, a line of military-grade gear shone cold, like it meant business. He stayed seated, legs apart, arms locked tight, gaze sharp as broken glass. Off to the edge, Varro waited, dampness forming on his scalp even though the breeze carried frost.
Grant," Holt muttered, eyes stuck on the page before him. "What's this about?"
Aiden moved across the room - just three calm strides - and grabbed the book Varro held out. He glanced at the rows right away. Spears: 247 listed, but they should've had 259. Arrows: only 412 there instead of 442. The dates lined up with what he'd written down yesterday afternoon.
"Requisition mismatch," Aiden said evenly, handing the ledger back. "Page 14 authorized transfer to east gate armory. Sergeant Lorne signed off."
Holt's gaze finally lifted, locking onto him. "Lorne's dead. Bandit ambush three days ago. South road."
Aiden didn't blink. "Then the signature's forged. Or someone used his seal after."
Varro shifted, boots scraping stone. "Captain, Grant copied those exact numbers yesterday. Work was clean. No smudges."
Holt didn't respond at all, just kept his eyes on Aiden. Time dragged slow - like armor weighing down a body, like that stale breath of the tomb when he first came to.
"You work fast for a border garrison man," Holt said finally, voice low. "Too fast. Too clean."
"Clerks learn patterns," Aiden replied. "Or they drown in paper. Border taught me that much."
Holt shifted closer, arms dropping onto the table - solid knock. So what stands out to you in this mess?
Test.
Aiden met the stare without flinching, keeping his face the dull mask of a man who knew his place. "Someone's skimming for profit. East wall prep means high demand - weapons fetch triple on black market right now. Sergeant dead or not, someone wanted those arrows gone quiet."
The captain's face stayed still, yet a spark moved deep in his gaze - maybe awareness, maybe sizing things up.
"Smart," Holt said softly. "Smarter than most clerks I've met."
He shot up, the chair dragging back with a sharp screech. Now looming above the table, his gear whispering under strain. "Varro - get the supply chiefs moving. Check every last count before sunrise. Not a wink till it's finished."
Varro gave a quick nod, pivoting toward the exit. "Got it, boss."
Holt's focus jerked to Aiden. "Wait - "
Aiden stayed put, his frame frozen like rock.
" - you're with me tomorrow. East wall inspection. See these patterns up close."
Varro stopped dead, his gaze narrowing slightly. Office workers never joined field checks - they stuck to their chairs, far from mess or doubt.
"Yeah, boss," Aiden replied, tone dull.
Holt waved them off - just a quick nod. Nothing more was said.
The door snapped closed behind them. Out in the hall, Varro let out a sharp breath. What on earth had just happened? Holt doesn't bring desk jockeys up there - ever
Aiden kept walking, mind already turning. "He's measuring. Seeing if the pattern holds under pressure."
Varro cursed low, rubbing his scar. "Pressure? Boy, that's a grindstone. Stay alive out there - I need someone who can actually write legibly."
Aiden gave a quick nod, then headed for the steps. Light crept in through tight window gaps when he got to his small space. Bed hadn't been used. Gear dangled on its hook.
He plopped down by the bed's side like he always did, eyes fixed on empty space.
East side of the wall. Holt runs this part. His way or nothing. No dark corners, no paperwork to cover errors. Only rock, breeze, also watchful captain.
A sharp bell broke the quiet.
[Ding.]
[New Quest Unlocked: Trial by Wolf.]
Stay alive during Holt's check at the eastern barrier - don't let them see you're no longer human
[Reward: Level Up + Holt Weakness Data + New Skill Shard.]
Got caught? Fast-response units head straight to your base. Your name's out there now
Aiden let out a soft breath, the air swirling lightly in the cold space.
No space for errors. Not even a little wiggle for fair skin or bright eyes that could show up if he lost blood - or messed up.
The corpse stepped into the wolf pack's hideout covered in stolen pelts.
Right then, the leader decided to check how sharp his teeth were - up near. He moved in closer just to see what they could do.
Out here, a rooster called out loud. Morning routines were kicking off any minute. No chance of dozing now.
But preparation was.
Aiden stood up, yanking maps from beneath his bed - hand-drawn copies grabbed from the records room these past forty-eight hours. Details on the east side walls. Guard shifts by time. Weak areas no one watches.
Holt kept an eye on each step. Not a single phrase slipped past him.
Good.
Let him watch.
The wolf figured out a thing or another from bodies that wouldn't lie still after being caught.