I left the Archive feeling like I'd just uncovered a conspiracy that everyone else had somehow missed. Henrik's official records had confirmed every detail of Morrigan's information, and added several disturbing new ones.
Thorne Blackwood wasn't just unlucky. He was a walking disaster magnet with a survival rate that defied statistical probability. Twelve expeditions over three years, eighteen casualties, and somehow he always managed to walk away with valuable discoveries.
The numbers were damning, but what really bothered me were the gaps. The survivors who'd disappeared or died shortly after returning. The pattern of "accidents" that always seemed to benefit Thorne's reputation for finding rare materials.
I'd spent two hours going through Henrik's files, paying him enough coin to keep him quiet about my research. By the time I left, I had a much clearer picture of what I was dealing with.
The afternoon sun felt too bright after the Archive's dim interior. I squinted, adjusting to the light as I made my way back toward the main thoroughfare. My mind was still processing what I'd learned, trying to decide what to do with the information.
Should I warn potential expedition members? Report my suspicions to the Guild? Or was I reading too much into what might just be an unfortunate pattern of bad luck?
"Mr. Harker."
The voice behind me made me freeze. I turned slowly to find Investigator Reyne approaching, her silver-embroidered robes identifying her rank even before I could see the platinum Guild badge at her shoulder. She looked exactly as imposing as I remembered. Perfect posture, calculating eyes, and the kind of presence that made you automatically start reviewing your recent activities for anything that might be considered suspicious.
"Investigator," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady. "What brings you to this part of the city?"
"You do, actually." She fell into step beside me as I continued walking, her longer stride easily matching my pace. "I understand you've been asking questions about expedition patterns. Henrik mentioned you were particularly interested in Thorne Blackwood's records."
My blood went cold. Henrik had said he'd keep quiet about my research. Either he'd lied, or Investigator Reyne had ways of getting information that didn't rely on people's discretion.
"Just doing some research," I said carefully. "Trying to understand the risks before committing to another expedition."
"Prudent," she agreed. "Though I find it interesting that you're researching Mr. Blackwood specifically. Most adventurers would simply choose a different expedition leader if they had concerns."
We walked in silence for several steps while I tried to figure out how much she knew and how much I should admit to knowing.
"You mentioned statistical anomalies the last time we spoke," I said finally. "Patterns that interest the Guild. I assume Blackwood's survival rate qualifies."
"Indeed it does." Reyne's expression remained neutral, but I caught something in her tone that suggested approval. "Tell me, what conclusions did you draw from your research?"
It felt like a test. Answer wrong, and I'd probably find myself under even more scrutiny than I already was. Answer right, and... well, I wasn't sure what that would lead to either.
"Either he's the luckiest expedition leader in Ravengate," I said slowly, "or there's something about his methods that ensures his survival at the expense of his party members."
"And which do you think is more likely?"
I stopped walking and turned to face her directly. "I think you already know the answer to that question. The real question is what you're planning to do about it."
For the first time since I'd met her, Investigator Reyne smiled. It wasn't a particularly warm expression, but it suggested I'd given the response she'd been hoping for.
"Walk with me, Mr. Harker," she said. "I believe it's time we had a more detailed conversation about patterns, anomalies, and the particular challenges they present to Guild investigators."
Investigator Reyne led me to a small tea shop tucked between a blacksmith and a scroll-binder, the kind of place that catered to Guild officials who needed somewhere quiet to conduct business away from headquarters. The afternoon crowd was thin, mostly clerks and low-rank administrators taking their break.
We settled into a corner booth where our conversation wouldn't be overheard. Reyne ordered tea for both of us without asking my preference, then sat back and studied me with those unsettling silver eyes.
"Information is the Guild's business as much as dungeon management." She steepled her fingers. "Particularly information regarding statistical anomalies."
"Like me," I said, deciding to confront this directly. There was no point pretending we didn't both know why I was here.
"Like you," she agreed. "Three dungeon incidents with high casualty rates. Three instances where you walked away while others did not."
"Two," I corrected automatically. "I survived two incidents before yesterday."
A thin smile curved her lips. "So you admit to three in total."
Damn. I'd walked right into that.
"Being unlucky with party selection isn't a crime," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Neither is surviving."
"No, it certainly isn't." Reyne opened her folder, revealing what appeared to be my Guild file. "Jin Harker. D-rank generalist. Five years as a registered adventurer with no advancement in rank or specialization. Unremarkable assessment scores. No criminal record." She looked up. "On paper, you're the definition of average."
The way she emphasized "on paper" made it clear she believed otherwise.
"Yet somehow, you've survived situations that have claimed the lives of adventurers ranked significantly higher than yourself. That's... interesting."
"I'm good at hiding," I admitted. No point denying the obvious. "Not something that earns rank advancement, but effective for staying alive."
"Indeed." She turned a page in my file.
Her silver eyes narrowed slightly, and I felt a sudden chill. She wasn't just reading my file - she was reading me. And something told me Investigator Reyne saw far more than I wanted her to know.
"Your first incident was in Greyvale, two years ago. The Howling Caves. three casualties, including two C-rank adventurers and one B-rank healer. The official report states you became separated from the main party before the cave-in occurred."
"I went back for supplies we'd left at a base camp," I explained, sticking to the story I'd told back then. "When I returned, the entrance had collapsed. By the time rescue teams excavated a path, everyone else was dead."
"Convenient timing." She made a small note in the file. "Then last week, the kobold warren. Five casualties, including your entire party. You survived with minor injuries, claiming to have hidden when the attack began."
"It's the truth."
"I believe you did hide," she said, surprising me. "What I find fascinating is why you were the only one with the... foresight to do so. According to survivors from other parties who frequent that particular dungeon, the kobold warren was relatively safe. Predictable. No reason for exceptional caution."
I had no good answer for that.