A day passed since Nessa's eventful meeting with the Black Grit. She expected a slew of problems to arise during her time at the Black Grit building. Maybe the next day, the ones who agreed to work under her would change their minds and be insane enough to defy her. She half-expected to walk through the front doors and be met with swords and crossbows.

  To counteract against that before any sign of rebellion showed up, she had brought with her a chest ahead of time, which was hidden underneath a street. Thanks to Lithero, hiding it and digging it back up was easy while Salph carried it with her wind. With the chest floating next to her, Nessa burst through the doors and strutted into a full room. Sic and his second-in-command, Jor, were waiting at the front.

  "Good afternoon, my lackeys!" Nessa said. She walked toward the bar counter and stopped. Salph dropped the chest, which made a loud bang that echoed through the room. All eyes fell on her, some wide and others narrow.

  Sic's eyes landed on the chest. "What's this?" he asked, his tone guarded.

  Nessa grinned, tapping the top of the chest. "A show of goodwill. Or, if you prefer, a test of loyalty. I promised rewards for those who serve well, and here it is. Go on, open it."

  Sic hesitated before stepping forward. He knelt, undoing the latches, and lifted the lid. A collective inhale filled the room as coins gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the windows. Stacks of sil, more than many of these men had ever seen at once, lay in neat piles.

  Jor let out a low whistle. "That’s... a lot."

  Nessa leaned against the tabletop, watching the reactions unfold. "Consider this an advance payment. Those who stay loyal to me will find their pockets filled. Those who try to betray me... well, let’s just say there won’t be a second chance."

  The air in the room shifted. Greed flickered in the eyes of the men, but so did understanding. They had made their choice yesterday, but now, it was solidified.

  Sic exhaled sharply and shut the chest. "Fine. We follow your orders. What’s next?"

  Nessa’s smirk widened. "We move on to the real reason I’m here. I need information about the messengers of Scourge—how you pick orphans, where the handoff happens, and how they operate. And I need it now."

  "Then let’s talk. But you won’t like what you hear."

  "I rarely do."

  Sic stood up and whispered in Jor's ear. "Keep an eye on the men and make sure no one takes a single coin out of this chest."

  Jor nodded, his eyes scanning the room. Once satisfied, Sic and Nessa moved to a more private part of the hideout, or the upstairs, where she broke in from. After Nessa instructed Salph and Lithero to keep watch with Jor, they walked up the steps, the wooden boards creaking under their feet.

  A single window sat in the hallway's corner, providing a sliver of the street outside. Nessa peered down as she ascended the stairs, noting the lack of onlookers around the Black Grit building. Just rows of cracked brick homes that had seen better days. The alley was silent save for the soft caws of beady-eyed birds settled on the rooftops.

  Upon reaching the top floor and entered through the arched door, Nessa made her way to the head chair and sat while Sic closed the door behind them and skulked to a seat two spots away.

  Sic sat down heavily, rubbing a hand across his face. "We don’t get to choose which orphans get sent. Not really. The messengers leave us a note, listing the number of bodies they need. Sometimes it’s five, sometimes it’s ten. We find ones that won’t be missed and bring them to the meeting spot. That’s it."

  Nessa frowned. "And the meeting?"

  "The Crossroads—always the same spot. Just underneath two trees that intersect like a V. The message tells us where to go, and we drop them off. We never see who picks them up. Sometimes it’s a wagon, other times just a shadow disappearing into the night."

  "And you never asked questions?" Nessa’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

  "You think we had a choice? The last guy who asked too many questions ended up hanging from a bridge with his insides spilled out. We do what we’re told and keep our heads down."

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  Nessa clicked her tongue in irritation. This confirmed her suspicions—Scourge was organized, methodical. They weren’t just kidnapping for ransom or slave labor. There was something bigger at play.

  "The next time they ask for bodies," she said finally, "we’re giving them something different."

  Sic stiffened. "What do you mean?"

  "Instead of orphans, we use your men. We set a trap, catch these messengers, and find out who’s behind this."

  The man scoffed. "You think they’ll fall for that? They’re not stupid."

  Nessa turned her sharp gaze on him. "And neither am I. We make it convincing. We’ll prepare a carriage, cage some of your men inside, drape it to conceal what’s inside. When the messengers come, we’ll be ready."

  "You’re asking us to put our necks on the line."

  "I already own those necks, Sic. The only choice you have is how long you want to keep them."

  A long silence stretched between them before Sic finally sighed. "Fine. But if this goes sideways, it’s on your head. Don't be alarmed if some of my men were to flee at the first sign of trouble. Those messengers... there's something off about them. I have done business with them, and my skin would crawl whenever I meet them face-to-face."

  Curiosity piqued, leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

  Sic hesitated before responding. "They don’t act normal. They barely speak, and when they do, it’s like they’re whispering to something unseen. And their eyes... I don’t know if they even have eyes under those hoods. I’ve never seen them clearly, but the air around them feels wrong, like they aren’t fully part of this world."

  "That is strange," she muttered. "I will keep that in mind. Perhaps they are sorcerers if you feel weird around them. That is what usually happens when the unblessed are around sorcerers. They react to mana differently than a blessed would. While I suspected this already, this only confirms that the messengers are sorcerers... or something else entirely."

  Well, she would find out when it was time to carry out the plan. For now, they would stick with her instructions. Only the best of Black Grit would be in that carriage while Nessa waited nearby, eavesdropping and watching their reactions. They would be bait, a distraction.

  It was worrisome that they barely spoke. Either that meant they communicated in a way normal people couldn’t perceive, or they had no need for words at all. Both instances would throw a wrench into the plan. This was all to glean their intentions and figure out what location they transported these orphans to. If she messed up, then the messengers would undoubtedly uncover the deception, and they would disappear again—maybe forever. Scourge's whereabouts and ringleader would slip between her finger.

  She couldn't allow that to happen. Everything must be executed to perfection, but a handful of unpredictable factors could derail everything. Did the messengers possesses a means of locating and uncovering would-be ambushes? A spell? Some sort of a tracking spell? If so, then how would she prevent, let alone slip through it? Would they be able to detect her mana signatures as soon as she stepped closer?

  Even worse, they might be inclined to check the goods beforehand. These messengers would most likely outnumber her, and catching every single one of them—sorcerers at that—would be particularly difficult. If one were to escape and notify Scourge's leader about the mishap...

  Nessa shook her head. Now was not the time to be holding doubts. Whatever advantages the messengers had, she would have to outmaneuver them. Every detail of this plan needed to be airtight, every move calculated. She would not fail His Majesty, the captain, or the Lethos Empire.

  "Change of plans," Nessa said, standing up. "We won't be using your men, but orphans instead. Everything needs to be as authentic as possible. But I’ll be the one watching over them personally, and this time, I won’t be hiding in the shadows. That poses too much of a risk."

  "If you won't be in the shadows, then where in Yutar would you possibly—" The realization dawned on Sic's face before he even finished his sentence. "You'll be in the carriage with them? Why? That seems like an unnecessary risk."

  Nessa raised her brow. "Is that concern I hear? You flatter me. Anyway, I need to see them up close. If they're truly as unnatural as you claim, then I need to be near them to study them. Any sign of deception from their end, and I'll know."

  "And what if they can sense you? What if they know who you are the moment they lay eyes on you?"

  Nessa pondered for a moment before saying, "You and the messengers will meet at night. The carriage will be covered, and I will be hidden at the far back with the orphans, keeping my face out of sight in case they look inside. I will also mask my mana to avoid detection. After the exchange is done, the messengers will take me and the orphans to their designated destination."

  Sic scoffed, shaking his head. "And take them on your own? Royal Knight or not, you're insane."

  "I’ve been told that before. But I don’t intend to be alone. I have the spirits on my side. If things go south, they’ll act on my command. Furthermore, the Black Grit will be needed as well."

  "But in case we lose sight of you, if they succeed in taking you to a place we cannot pursue—"

  "Then you follow the trail I leave behind." Nessa’s eyes shimmered with conviction. "I’ll mark our path. Subtle, but enough for my people to follow. This is our best chance to learn who these messengers truly serve."

  Sic muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "This plan keeps getting worse."

  "Then be grateful you’re not the one riding in the carriage," Nessa shot back.

  "Fine, we'll do it your way. Just know that if things get out of hand, don't count on being rescued. If you vanish, you're on your own. No amount of sil is enough for us to risk our lives for the empire."

  "Duly noted," Nessa replied, leaning back. "Now, let’s get to work. We have a trap to set, Sic. It's about time we start handpicking who'll be inside when the time comes."