Less than thirty minutes after Morven delivered the warning, the carriage was already rattling down the steep harbor road.
The sun sat low behind the coastal cliffs. The working docks were bleeding seamlessly into the evening tavern hours. Heavy cargo carts still ground over the wet cobblestones, while the shouting of the dockhands had grown significantly rougher with the steady flow of cheap alcohol.
Yellow lamps flickered behind dirty tavern windows, and the coastal air thickened with the smell of melting pitch, rotting fish, and wet rope. A stale, heavy stench of spilled beer drifted out of the open doorways.
The Anchor represented one of the largest public houses in Pritz Harbor, attracting exactly the kind of crowd Lucian anticipated. Hardened sailors and exhausted warehouse laborers packed the long wooden benches, creating a crowded, noisy environment.
A man looking to start a fight could easily mistake the presence of a loud audience for personal courage.
Weller craved a loud audience to validate his temper. Pike preferred to keep conflict public to complicate any future retaliation.
The carriage stopped one street corner away from the tavern entrance. Sutton remained outside to calm the restless horse. Lucian stepped down into the mud, and Morven climbed down right behind him.
Morven spat a dark glob of tobacco juice into the street gutter. "Mr. Lucian, if they're drinking inside, they'll have half the bloody room backing their play. Cups get empty. Lads get brave."
"We are arriving before the cups get empty."
Morven gave a gruff nod. "Aye. Fair enough."
They walked through the heavy wooden doors. The Anchor felt incredibly broad and suffocatingly warm, with thick gray smoke hanging low beneath the heavy ceiling beams. Dim oil lamps cast harsh shadows across the worn tables as men crowded the main bar in tight, boisterous groups. A loud card game dragged toward a violent conclusion near the massive stone hearth.
The noisy room bent completely around Lucian's sudden arrival.
Heads turned. Voices dropped into suspicious whispers. One sailor lowered his wooden tankard and stared openly. Another patron recognized Morven and immediately looked toward the back corner of the room.
The four men from East Pier occupied a large table under a flickering wall lamp.
Weller sat heavily on the bench, resting his bandaged hand aggressively on the sticky wood. His massive shoulders looked tightly coiled with tension. Pike claimed the best tactical seat against the wall, maintaining a perfect view of the main door. Noll leaned back and feigned complete relaxation, though his paranoid eyes darted constantly across the room. Kell sat at the very edge of the table, slouching over his drink. He looked utterly exhausted by his older companions.
Kell noticed Lucian first. The boy cursed quietly and pushed his cup away.
Weller turned his thick neck. Pike shifted his posture. Noll finally locked his eyes on the approaching heir.
Lucian walked across the tavern floor at a perfectly even pace, stopping directly in front of their table. Morven pulled a wooden chair from a nearby booth, sitting down just close enough to provide physical backup without crowding the negotiation.
Lucian remained standing, looking down at the four killers.
"You received a very clear warning yesterday afternoon," Lucian said quietly. "It apparently failed to take root."
Weller clenched his massive jaw. "You felt the dying need to come all the way down here and repeat yourself?"
Pike smiled a thin, completely bloodless smile. "Take a seat, Mr. Vale. Standing over us makes it look like you came looking for a brawl."
Lucian pulled out the empty chair opposite Pike. He sat down.
"I came down here because you were plotting something stupid," Lucian explained. "I vastly prefer stopping your foolishness inside this tavern. It saves me the trouble of shooting you on the private road below my house."
Weller let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Listen to this pup! Thinks he knows our bloody business."
Kell muttered into his empty cup. "You're sitting in the Anchor after dark, loudly discussing the Vale estate. A deaf man could guess our business, you ape."
Weller snapped his head toward the sailor. "Keep flapping your lips. I'll break your jaw myself."
Kell stared back with pure disgust. "You make that exact same threat every ten minutes. Get some new material."
Pike ignored the bickering completely, keeping his dark eyes locked on Lucian. "You moved fast today. I'll give you proper credit for that."
"I paid your outstanding debt fast," Lucian countered smoothly. "That should have ended this entire issue."
Noll finally spoke, his voice thin and entirely flat. "Morven paid us the exact coin owed for the last run. That part is fully settled."
Weller slammed the heel of his good hand against the table. "That covered one single piece of work. Tossing a few coins and slamming the door in our faces is a massive insult."
"That is exactly what I did," Lucian said.
The entire table froze.
Pike's charming smile lost a fraction of its easy confidence. Noll dropped his paranoid gaze to the scratched wood.
Weller leaned his massive bulk across the table. "You inherited a fancy house. You think you can snap your soft fingers and make the old harbor rules disappear?"
Lucian held the giant's furious gaze. "Old rules vanish the moment someone possesses the sheer willpower to end them. I also possess the physical strength to keep them buried."
Weller's bandaged fist trembled.
Pike raised a single, calming hand, never looking at his angry partner. "Hold steady, Weller."
Weller settled back into his seat, clearly hating the order.
Pike leaned forward, examining Lucian with intense, renewed curiosity. "Let us drop the polite games. You know exactly what kind of services we provided for your father."
Lucian nodded. "I do."
"A wealthy house always attracts enemies," Pike continued smoothly. "You deal with missing cargo, heavy debts, and stupid men who talk too much. Rivals get incredibly brave when they smell weakness in the water. You still need men like us. You can lie to yourself if it provides comfort. The waterfront remains a brutal place."
"You want to serve as my permanent solution every time the waterfront gets muddy," Lucian summarized.
Pike's mouth twitched. "I want young heirs to stop throwing away perfectly good tools because they dislike the dirty smell."
Weller grunted his total agreement.
Noll tapped his fingers against his knee. "This town holds a long memory. People talk in these taverns. They hear you paid us off and tossed us aside. They will instantly wonder if the new Vale master lacks a spine."
Kell gave a dry, hacking laugh. "They might also wonder if the new master finally grew tired of dragging you three idiots around like dead weight."
Weller shot the young sailor a truly murderous glare. "I swear to the gods, Kell."
"You swear to absolutely everyone," Kell fired back. "It's exhausting."
"Kell. Shut up," Pike ordered sharply.
Kell lifted his empty wooden cup in mock surrender.
Lucian watched the fractured dynamic play out, letting the subtle tensions of the table feed him critical information. Weller wanted his damaged pride restored. Pike wanted tactical room to maneuver and hated losing face in public. Noll desperately wanted to survive the coming conflict. Kell had already abandoned the crew in his mind.
Lucian looked at each of them in turn. "You all desire the exact same outcome. You want the violent arrangement to continue. You simply refuse to say it honestly."
"Then I'll say it plain," Weller growled. "A wealthy house absolutely needs men like us."
"You want that desperate need to feel like genuine respect," Lucian deduced.
Weller's face twisted into a snarl. "Maybe I just hate the arrogant way you speak."
"My tone does not alter the underlying truth."
Pike smiled again, though the expression looked incredibly thin and brittle. "You possess a terrible habit of framing things in the ugliest possible light."
"I frame things using the clearest available terms," Lucian corrected him.
"Clear by your personal standards."
"Exactly."
Weller let out a loud, mocking laugh. "Listen to this arrogant pup! He paid us yesterday. Now he talks like he runs the entire bloody harbor."
"I paid you yesterday because I had already terminated your employment," Lucian stated.
A short, stifled sound drifted over from the main bar. It sounded dangerously close to mocking laughter. Weller's face turned a violent shade of crimson.
The giant leaned heavily across the wooden table. "You walked into a dock tavern. You kept your voice nice and steady. You think that makes you a hard man?"
Lucian remained perfectly still. "You received your money and your final answer yesterday. You gathered here tonight hoping a small push would secure a better deal. It completely failed."
Weller braced his boots against the floor. He prepared to lunge.
"Keep your arse in that chair," Morven warned. The older foreman never even raised his rough voice.
Weller turned his head just enough to acknowledge the threat.
Morven remained perfectly relaxed in his seat. "You start throwing punches in this room. The crowd will quickly remember which one of us controls the actual shipping jobs on this pier."
The economic threat landed perfectly. Weller sank back down.
Pike shifted his cold eyes from Morven back to Lucian. "You came down here specifically for a public execution."
"I came down here to eliminate any lingering delusions."
Pike offered a humorless chuckle. "Those two things are practically identical."
"Close enough for tonight," Lucian agreed.
A heavy silence stretched across the table.
Noll finally broke it. "You truly intend to hold the estate roads without outside muscle?"
"I intend to run my house without surrendering the dirty work to four men who feel entirely too important," Lucian answered.
Pike leaned forward. "What happens when a rival tests your borders?"
Lucian maintained the exact same level tone he had used since arriving. "Then they will bleed for the lesson."
Pike's charming smile vanished completely. "You project a lot of calm for a man sitting completely unprotected in East Pier."
"You project a lot of caution for a man who desperately wanted to look dangerous tonight," Lucian fired back.
A louder wave of muffled laughter rolled through the listening tavern. Pike froze completely. Weller cursed under his breath.
Kell shut his eyes. "There it goes."
Lucian stood up.
The sudden movement drew the absolute attention of half the room. He welcomed the public scrutiny.
"Vale House owes you absolutely nothing," Lucian announced, projecting his voice to ensure the surrounding tables heard every single word. "You received your final wages. You are officially dismissed. Keep away from my road, my yard, and my name. This entire issue ends right here. If you choose to ignore me, we will settle the matter openly. I highly doubt you will survive the consequences."
Weller shoved his heavy wooden chair back.
"Sit down, Weller," Morven commanded loudly.
Weller stopped moving. The entire room witnessed his hesitation.
Lucian looked down at Pike one last time.
Pike met his cold stare. "This insult will not sit well."
"I never intended to make you comfortable."
Kell barked a loud, genuine laugh.
Weller rounded on the young sailor. "What in the hell is wrong with your brain?"
Kell threw his hands up in exasperation. "I explicitly told you this was a terrible idea before we ordered the second round of drinks. Now I have to sit here and watch you prove my point in agonizing stages."
The surrounding dockworkers openly laughed at the miserable crew. Weller looked ready to murder his own partner. Pike grabbed Weller's thick sleeve and held him back.
"Leave it," Pike hissed.
Weller glared at the smaller man, yanked his arm free, and sat fuming in his chair.
Lucian turned away from the table. He walked toward the exit.
He almost reached the heavy doors when Kell called out to him.
"For the record, I genuinely tried to stop this stupidity!"
Lucian paused and looked back over his shoulder. Kell leaned his elbow on the sticky table, looking vastly more annoyed than ashamed.
"I told them they were acting like idiots," Kell complained loudly. "I said it clearly. I said it with extreme rudeness. They refused to listen."
"Choose better company next time," Lucian advised.
Kell wrinkled his nose. "That is incredibly cruel."
"Yes," Lucian agreed. He stepped out into the night.
The evening air felt wonderfully cold against his face. He walked a few steps away from the noisy tavern.
A sudden, profound sensation blossomed inside his chest.
It felt small. It felt incredibly subtle.
The familiar knot of the Beyonder characteristic loosened slightly. A thin, stubborn layer of spiritual resistance simply melted away into his bloodstream.
Lucian slowed his pace, letting his mind analyze the exact feeling.
The successful digestion made perfect sense. He entirely avoided raw violence. He sought absolute control. He had walked into a room heavily saturated with tension and grievance. He dragged the conflict into the harsh light and defined the exact terms of engagement before his enemies could react.
He had effectively read the psychological layout of the table, locating the fragile pride and the hidden fears. He applied precise pressure to the weak points without letting the situation degrade into a mindless tavern brawl.
He had engineered a public humiliation, forcing the harbor to witness his authority. A tiny fraction of the Criminal potion fully digested.
It was nasty, manipulative work, but the results were undeniably effective.
Morven stepped out of the tavern and pulled the heavy door shut. Sutton waited patiently by the restless horse at the corner.
Lucian placed his boot on the carriage step.
"One of Pike's dockside mates slipped out the back door before you finished talking," Sutton murmured quietly.
Lucian paused. "Do you recognize his face?"
"Aye. He runs illicit messages. Hangs around the main pier and carries word for whoever drops a coin in his palm."
Lucian understood the implication instantly. "Did he look like a man heading home for the night?"
Sutton shook his head. "No, Mr. Lucian."
Lucian nodded once and climbed inside the dark carriage.
The journey back up the slope took significantly longer than the descent. East Pier had completely surrendered to the chaotic evening hours. Carts blocked the narrow lanes, and drunken men stumbled across the cobblestones, ignoring the cold wind.
Lucian watched the fragmented harbor pass by his glass window, seeing dimly lit rope shops and narrow merchant fronts. Three laborers hauled a heavy, canvas-wrapped bundle into an alley. A tired woman dragged two crying children down the muddy sidewalk. The public road was rapidly settling into darkness.
He experienced a deep sense of strategic satisfaction. The tavern confrontation had achieved its primary objective. He had severed the festering grievance before it grew into a massive crisis. He had established his public boundaries.
The public nature of the dismissal carried a steep price. He had boldly announced his strength, and he was now a highly visible target in a dangerous game.
The carriage eventually passed through the main gates of Vale House. The massive estate loomed against the night sky, a fortress of dark stone and warm window light.
Sutton pulled the carriage door open. Morven climbed down from his seat and approached Lucian.
"One last bit of business, Mr. Lucian."
Lucian looked at the dock foreman.
Morven jerked his thick thumb back toward the dark harbor road. "That sailor boy, Kell. He slipped out of the tavern right after us. He sent a young dock rat running up the hill to catch my ear. He says Pike refuses to leave this as a simple tavern insult."
Lucian waited for the rest of the message.
"That was the whole warning," Morven grunted.
It was more than enough.
Lucian looked down the winding road toward the invisible harbor before turning his attention back to the imposing mansion.
"Wake Sutton again in exactly one hour," Lucian ordered. "I want the lower road heavily watched until sunrise."
"Aye, sir," Morven agreed.
Lucian walked up the stone steps. The bitter harbor cold clung to his heavy coat, and the faint, satisfying looseness of the digested potion still radiated inside his chest. The dangerous night had only just begun.