At last, the day had arrived. The ship stood ready in the harbour, her hull laden with precious cargo crops bound for distant lands. It was the day of the final inspection, the moment when the Imperial Surveillance would arrive to grant—or withhold—their seal of approval.
"All hands, make haste!" bellowed the West Zone head, his voice thunderous above the clatter of crates. "Today, we finish loading! The inspection team won't wait while you laze about!"
The dock bustled with frantic energy. Labourers heaved sacks and barrels, sweat-slicked brows glinting beneath the high sun. Among them, Malvin Grey moved steadily, his eyes always watching, his mind alert. He knew this was the day something would happen.
And then it did.
Amid the chorus of grunts and thudding boots, an unfamiliar figure slipped into their midst—a stranger, nimble and unnoticed by most. He brushed past one of the workers, exchanging something discreetly, hand to hand, with a nod that spoke of a secret understanding. And just as quickly as he had appeared, the man vanished into the crowd—a phantom in daylight.
Malvin's eyes narrowed. He tried to pursue, but the stranger had already melted into the human tide. Shifting his focus, he turned to the recipient of the exchange—a familiar labourer, one he had befriended during his infiltration. The man was now straying from the others, moving toward the quieter edges of the dock. Malvin followed silently, careful not to alert him.
The worker weaved through the maze of crates stacked high for shipment. Here, the sun barely reached down, casting long shadows over narrow passages. At last, the man reached a clearing where daylight poured in between the wooden towers, revealing a secluded spot. He crouched down, opened the small parcel he had been given, and paused.
Malvin, hidden just around the corner, could not see the contents, but he saw the glimmer in the man's eyes—the unmistakable gleam of gold. The worker drew a note from the pouch and read quickly, his expression shifting from awe to grim resolve. He tucked the gold away and turned back toward the port with purposeful steps.
Malvin retreated and rejoined the crowd, mimicking the motions of a labourer as he resumed his watch. He saw the worker reappear, walk toward the tool storage shed, then emerge minutes later with a new sack slung across his back.
Now Malvin knew. He trailed the man closely, carrying his own load to avoid suspicion. The worker climbed the gangway and moved among the legitimate cargo, glancing about before tucking the sack among the crates of crops. He moved quickly, efficiently, like a man who had done it more than once.
And Malvin saw it all. He said nothing. He did nothing. For that was not his role. By the following day, he had returned to the capital, his report written in fine detail and placed directly into the hands of his commanding officer.
Leesa read it carefully, her face a mask of cold satisfaction. When she had finished, she placed the scroll aside. "Perfect," she said at last. "Now, we may proceed." Then her eyes sharpened. "But you know what would be even more perfect?" she added, her voice steel beneath silk. "Bring me that man. Kindly or not, I care little. He will stand before the court and give his testimony. We will tear this rot from the roots."
While Melvin rode back to the port under the guise of a simple labourer, Leesa strode briskly through the halls of the palace to the command chamber, where Elzar and Anton awaited her. She placed the rolled parchment, the spy's report, on the heavy oak table between them. Elzar skimmed it, brow furrowing, while Anton leaned forward, his jaw tightening with every word.
"This is it," Leesa said plainly. "With this report, we have enough to act. Dale Palpatine is no longer merely a suspicion. He is the architect of corruption."
The three exchanged solemn glances. Among the list of those who bore the potential to imperil the Crown Prince, the name Palaptine stood etched at the very top. With Dale Palaptine now to be imprisoned under royal decree, the hope remains that beneath the weight of chains and questioning, his tongue might loosen, and if he truly had a hand in the Prince's disappearance, then at last, the truth might be wrenched from his lips. It was Elzar who spoke next, his voice grim with purpose. "Then let us prepare an arrest warrant. The law will speak."
And the law did speak. By the time the imperial seal was pressed into hot wax, orders had already gone to the royal guard to seize Dale Palpatine from his quarters near the merchant docks. He was taken in the night.
Meanwhile, Melvin had returned to the port, not as a spy now, but as a man with a mission. The burden he carried was not of crates or coins, but of truth, and the risks that came with it. He moved among the workers with familiar ease, noting a small group in intense conversation near the loading zone. He drew closer.
The head of the West Zone stood among several others, including the man Melvin now sought—the one who had accepted the bribe.
As Melvin approached, one of the men turned. "Melvin! Where have you been all day?"
"Had to go home—family matters," he replied smoothly, brushing off the question. His eyes found the bribed worker, whose expression twisted into uneasy recognition.
Later, when the group dispersed, Melvin found his moment. He drew the man aside into a quiet alcove behind the storage sheds. The air was heavy with salt and the scent of tar. Melvin drew a pouch from beneath his tunic and tossed it gently toward him. It jingled with weight.
The worker caught it instinctively, his hands trembling as he opened the drawstrings. Inside, the gold gleamed brighter than sunlight.
"What… what is this?" he asked, the fear already in his voice.
"A gift," Melvin said softly. "And a warning."
The man looked up, confused, but Melvin continued before he could speak. "I saw you. I saw you walk into the cleaning shed with nothing and return with a sack. I saw you place it on the ship. I saw everything."
The worker's face paled. His hands trembled more violently now. "I— I didn't know it would—"
Melvin raised a hand. "Spare me from your excuses. I am from the imperial army, sent by command to investigate this corruption. My duty ends where the law begins. You, however, have a choice."
He stepped forward, his voice firm. "That gold is your advance. You will come to the capital. You will testify that you were bribed to place unregistered cargo aboard the ship. Do that, and you'll receive the other half."
There was silence for a moment. Then the man slowly nodded, his fear melting into resigned understanding—and perhaps, the glint of greed.
"I will testify. I swear by it."
The bait had been taken.