The next three days passed in a blur of clandestine activity, with Eleanor operating as the unseen general of a shadow war from the quiet anonymity of the safe house. Julian proved to be a ruthlessly efficient instrument, moving on her plans with precision.
First, he confirmed her death. His agents, posing as city officials, oversaw the recovery of the "body" from the ashes of the Reid manor, and a closed-casket funeral was held—a somber, theatrical affair that Marcus Reid played to perfection. The city mourned the tragic loss of the quiet, beautiful Lady Thorne, allowing Eleanor to become a ghost.
Next, she fed Julian the information on the Iron Gryphon. It was a deluge of data, drawn from the memories of the Shadow Hand and supplemented by targeted queries to the Phoenix Ledger. She gave him shipping manifests, secret ledger books, and the names of the three key port officials Marcus had on his payroll.
Julian's network moved with breathtaking speed, not with a frontal assault, but with a subtle, creeping paralysis. A "random" guild inspection would delay a critical Gryphon shipment. A rival company, funded by an anonymous investor, would suddenly undercut pricing on a key route. The three corrupt port officials, confronted with irrefutable proof of their crimes, were given a simple choice: switch their allegiance to the Vance guild, or face the Emperor's Inquisitors. They all chose wisely.
Within seventy-two hours, the Iron Gryphon was bleeding out, its operations crippled as profits plummeted. Marcus Reid was trapped in a storm of his own making, completely unaware of the invisible hand guiding it.
On the evening of the third day, Julian visited her again, bringing a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses. He found Eleanor poring over a map of the city, her brow furrowed in concentration. The haunted look was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity that seemed to charge the air in the small room.
"The beast is wounded," Julian said, setting the wine down on the table. "Reid is losing a fortune every hour. He's becoming reckless, pulling funds from his other ventures to cover the Gryphon's losses. He's panicking."
"Good," Eleanor said, not looking up from the map. "Panic leads to mistakes."
Julian poured the wine, his movements smooth and deliberate. "My sources say he has arranged a secret, late-night meeting with his buyer at a warehouse on the western docks. He's trying to salvage one last shipment of the Arcane components himself. To prove to his backer that he still has control."
Eleanor finally looked up, a slow, dangerous smile touching her lips. "A secret meeting. A shipment of illegal goods. And a desperate man. That's not a meeting, Master Vance. That's a trap." She tapped a location on the map. "And we are the ones who are going to spring it."
The plan she laid out was not complex, but it was elegant in its brutality. She didn't want the smuggled goods. She wanted the smugglers.
That night, as Marcus Reid met with a shadowy buyer in a dusty, torch-lit warehouse, they were not alone. Julian's men, disguised as dock workers, had surrounded the building. But the real trap was not for them.
Acting on an anonymous tip—provided by one of Julian's agents—a squadron of the Emperor's Inquisitors descended on the warehouse. They moved in silence, their silver-etched armor gleaming in the torchlight, the most feared and incorruptible law enforcement in the empire.
The raid was swift. Reid and his buyers were caught red-handed with crates of illegal, untaxed Arcane components. There was no escape; the evidence was absolute.
Eleanor watched it all from the rooftop of a building across the street, a small spyglass in her hand. She saw the look of pure, uncomprehending shock on Marcus Reid's face as the Inquisitors placed him in chains. He looked around wildly, trying to understand who could have betrayed him. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, seemed to scan the rooftops, as if searching for a ghost.
Eleanor lowered the spyglass, her heart a cold, steady drum in her chest. A notification, visible only to her, bloomed in the air.
[Primary Objective Updated.] [Target: Lord Marcus Reid. Debt: Attempted Murder.] [Status: PAID IN FULL.]
[Objective Reward: 500 Restitution Points.] [Current Balance: 502 RP.]
A wave of something that felt like relief, but colder and sharper, washed over her. It was a balancing of the books, nothing more. The first entry in her new ledger was complete.
When she returned to the safe house, Julian was waiting for her, the fire in the hearth casting dancing shadows across the room.
"It is done," Julian said, raising his glass. "House Reid is finished. The Emperor will seize his assets tomorrow. Assets which, thanks to a few well-placed bids from my agents, will be acquired by the Vance guild for a fraction of their worth."
"Our assets," Eleanor corrected him softly.
A genuine, unguarded smile touched Julian's lips. "Our assets," he agreed, studying her face in the firelight. "This was never just about the money for you, was it?"
"No," Eleanor admitted. "It was about justice."
"Justice is a rare and expensive commodity," Julian said, his voice quiet. "Tonight, you managed to afford it."
Eleanor turned to the window, watching the distant, indifferent lights of the city. Reid was just the beginning, a single name crossed off a very long list. Untouchable on his throne, the Emperor remained the true target. Still, something had shifted. It was only the first move, but the board felt different now. A new game was beginning.