In a grudging surrender to the relentless shrieking of her alarm, Karolen Mehin pried her eyes open, every fibre of her being screaming to just vaporise the fucking thing and slip back into the oblivion of sleep.

  Today was going to be tough, and it took an effort of colossal will to not just yank the sheets back over her head and consign the whole damn thing to the rubbish heap.

  Audits were dangerous enough things at the best of times. So how on earth had she allowed herself to be dragged into the middle of a powerplay between Liando Verlan and Grackle Nuroon?

  It was one thing, in theory, to be an entirely independent Auditor—free from the tug of alliances, untouched by the politics of the day. But it was a whole other beast when you found yourself caught in the crossfire between one of Soar's genuine up-and-coming business power players and, well, Grackle fucking Nuroon.

  Today was likely to be the defining moment of her career thus far. The stakes couldn’t be higher. She was going to be forced to pick a side, and - when she did that - she would incur the wrath of the other.

  Whatever way she played this, someone with pull was going to be gunning for her by the end of the day.

  The Museum Director was an institution in Soar—or at least, as the joke went, he ought to be locked up in one. And preferably heavily medicated to stop him breaking free.

  From the moment, nearly fifty years ago, when Grackle Nuroon first claimed the keys to that monolithic monstrosity in the heart of the Cultural Quarter, he had deflected every attempt to rein him in with a level of obstinacy typically reserved for feral mules. Trustees, auditors, and meddling bureaucrats alike had thrown themselves against the impenetrable wall of his ego, only to bounce off like rubber balls lobbed at a fortress.

  The fact that the Trustees had been reduced to playing their last card—seeking an indictment for tax fraud—spoke volumes. It said as much about Nuroon’s Teflon-like ability to avoid any stain on his career as it did about Verlan’s growing desperation to finally bring the matter to a head.

  And she was allowing herself to be the instrument by which they were attempting his downfall . . .

  Man. Was she fuuuuuuucked.

  It didn’t help Karolen’s mood that every other Auditor who’d tried to investigate the museum’s accounts in the last twenty years had come out of it rather worse than simply having a bit of a shitty day. There had been three unexplained deaths and two inexplicable disappearances—and those were just the incidents that she had managed to pry from the lips of suddenly very unchatty colleagues.

  Who knew how many other ‘accidents’ had been quietly swept under the rug?

  Of course, in the brutal world of financial investigation, just making it home with all your fingers and toes was considered a good day’s work. However, even Karolen’s courage had its limits and, as she sat on the edge of her bed, thinking about the day ahead, she kind of thought Grackle Nuroon might be it.

  Despite the polished assurances of Liando Verlan and the explicit backing of the rest of the museum Board, Karolen couldn’t shake the sense that there was no outcome here where anything short of handing Nuroon the cleanest, most glowing bill of health wouldn’t be her death knell.

  The moment she signed off on anything less, that spidery vulture would start circling. Should she uncover irregularities and Liando didn’t use her report to take the Director down, her career - fuck it, her life - would be pretty much over.

  Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, Karolen stood up , her mind returning to the words of her best friend, Arebella Telut, from the wine bar the night before.

  "How the hell do you get yourself into these situations, K?" Arebella had asked. "This case is the very definition of lose-lose."

  Karolen had almost choked on her drink at the time, half laughing, half wincing at the truth of it. The whole thing stunk of inevitability. No matter how she sliced it, this was going to end in disaster—either Nuroon would chew her up and spit her out, or Verlan would throw her under the bus the moment the ink was dry on her audit.

  "You think I don't know that?"

  "It's the biggest open secret in Soar that Grackle Nuroon’s been fiddling the museum’s books since Arkola was in short trousers," Arebella had said. "There’s a reason the Trustees haven’t found anyone willing to sign off on those accounts in years. Hell, it’s a miracle they’ve kept the whole operation afloat this long. But then again, that’s Nuroon’s real talent—making things look just clean enough to keep the wolves at bay while quietly stacking the deck behind everyone’s backs."

  Karolen had taken a long sip of wine, considering the truth of it. Nuroon had the kind of pull that didn’t just smooth over the cracks; it made them invisible, even to those who should know better. But everyone in the city knew. They just turned a blind eye. In a place like Soar, even the most outrageous secrets were as common as cobblestones.

  "I know," she had said again. Somewhat more resignedly this time.

  "Best case scenario," Arebella had said, "you manage to spin anything untoward you find as an accident. A clerical error, maybe. A simple failure to carry the one, or whatever it is you’re supposed to watch for in those spreadsheets of yours. But even then, there will be red faces all around when the truth comes out. That blood-sucking spider will find a way to make your life hell for making him look stupid. And the Trustees? They’ll never forgive you for making it look like they were asleep at the wheel. That’s the best case, K. I can't even imagine the shitstorm you'll wade through if you actually uncover enough evidence of wrongdoing to kick off a prosecution."

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  “You’ll have every one of them gunning for you—from Nuroon’s cronies to the Trustees who will backpedal faster than a drowning monkey. You’ll be the one left holding the bag, K, and that bag’s full of every dirty secret Soar has been sweeping under the rug for decades."

  "Bella, I know!"

  "I know you know," Arebella said. "And that’s what makes you accepting this job such a colossally stupid thing to do. You’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. Either way, you’re stuck in a no-win situation. You're need to find a way to recuse yourself before it blows up in your face."

  "It's too late for that," she replied, rubbing her temples as though trying to ward off the headache she could already feel coming on. "Verlan’s telling the Director tonight that he's to cooperate fully with me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pull out now. The trap's already set, and I'm the damn bait."

  "Shit!" Arebella had sat back then, the gold irises of her eyes shining in sympathy. "You're seriously going to go through with this? Tell me at least the money is insanely good."

  "Enough to keep me in Chardonnay," Karolen said, swirling her glass. "But that’s not the point, and you know it. Unless some of us are willing to stand up to the way things have always been, we're just going to keep circling the drain. Relics like Nuroon... Well, justice needs to be done, Arebella. And it needs to be seen to be done. You, of all people, should respect the hustle of trying to disrupt the status quo."

  She took a sip, her lips curling into a grimace. "I mean, hell, if we don’t stir the pot, we’ll all just keep living in the same old sleazy script, watching the same assholes come out on top all the time.. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll all be so numb we won’t even notice when they start locking the doors."

  Arebella had smiled at that. "True. But it would be ideal if a few of us could live to see the sunlit uplands."

  "Of course. But you're forgetting I have another option other than clerical error or wholesale fraud . . ."

  "You do?"

  "Yes, of course," Karolen said, "I can just turn off all my Skills and pretend I don’t see a damn thing wrong. That’s what the last Auditor did when they sent someone to investigate. You should see the report they came up with—it’s the work of an evil, maniacal genius. You can practically feel the sweat on his brow as he uncovers a mountain of dirt, but stops just short of actually saying anything you can pin him down for. It’s a masterclass in dodging responsibility. I could play it that way, sure. I could tell the truth, but do it in such a way that no one can touch me. You know, obfuscate. Obfuscate. Obfuscate. But hey, at least Nuroon won’t come after me with a meat cleaver."

  Karolen could still see her friend's disgusted expression at that suggestion. "I mean, sure. But you're not going to do that, are you?"

  There had been a tense silence before she had taken another massive gulp of wine and shaken her head. "No. I'm not. Of course, I'm not. What a fucking shambles."

  Other than 'don't touch it with a bargepole', Arebella hadn't had much more advice of use to offer, and she'd made her excuses soon after.

  Her friend had recently got back together with that loose cannon of an Inspector of hers and had been spending nearly every waking moment at his apartment. In fact, their impromptu glass (or five) last night had been the first time they'd got together in over a month.

  Karolen conjured up a cup of strong coffee and rolled the hot bitterness of it around her mouth as she continued to slowly wake up. No matter how you looked at it, this job was a ridiculously unnecessary risk to take with a career that, since hitting Level 20, was starting to show evidence of going places.

  She had chosen Forensic Dissection as her Threshold Reward and used all her savings to immediately raise it to the Epic tier. At this stage, she could temporarily reduce a target's stats by 20% and also reveal all hidden Skills and vulnerabilities. As a bonus, she would likewise gain a 10% damage boost against the analysed target. She wasn’t exactly ‘kick ass’ yet, but she could certainly ‘prod buttock’ of someone five, maybe even ten levels above her.

  At University, it had come as something of a surprise to her how often an Auditor found themselves in hand-to-hand combat with their clients, but she was certainly glad to have ground her way to a Skill that gave her a bit more survivability.

  And now this job had come up.

  All her painstaking progress up the slippery career pole would be wasted if she were crushed between the two nightmare pillars of the Soar Museum's Trustees and its implacable Director.

  Minutes ticked by. The coffee was consumed.

  Well, she decided, it was too late to worry about such things. She had signed the contract - and accepted the exorbitant fee - and was expected to present herself for Grackle Nuroon's tender ministrations within the hour.

  Her flat in the 'emerging district' - as the slimy Estate Agent had described it, although what precisely was emerging remained to be seen - was a short walk from a Portal Stone that would deliver her, literally, at the gates of Soar Museum.

  It wasn't exactly like living in Jewel Town, but she was starting to become comfortable with life's little luxuries and was damned if she was going to allow fear of repercussions from a dried-up bundle of malevolent energy to get in the way of that.

  Pulling her long, fiery red hair into a tight bun, Karolen regarded her reflection with satisfaction. Moving with more purpose, she crossed to the neatly laid-out clothes she had prepared the night before, as though the very act of dressing was a ritual she could control in a world gone haywire.

  Her finely tailored tunic, crafted with an eye for elegance and function, was expensively cut, hugging her frame just right, and its silver buttons more than just decoration: they significantly enhanced both her Dexterity and Concentration.

  Her trousers, a recent purchase from one of the more exclusive boutiques in the Commercial District didn’t just look good—they worked. A 10% boost to her Endurance and Resilience was a subtle advantage that only the truly discerning would understand.

  Over the top of all that, she pulled on her Inspector's Mantle, a cloak of deep, shifting colors that practically melted into the shadows. The cloak had a stealth bonus that made her nearly invisible and now, with her recent crossing of her Level 20 Threshold, the aura it exuded had grown stronger.

  It clung to her like a second skin, sharpening her edges, amplifying her every move.

  Taking a final look at herself in the mirror, she was pretty happy with what she saw: the very definition of a professional preparing for the most significant case of her career.

  She was an Auditor.

  If anyone had told her that she was on her way to witness a murder she would have assumed they were speaking metaphorical.

  And in that, she would have been wrong.