We made camp that evening in a hollow between two hills, sheltered from the wind and hidden from the road. Sael's men set the perimeter tight, and Joss posted extra watches. The two riders who'd been following us had disappeared an hour before sunset, melting back into the tree line like shadows.
They'd be back. Or they'd already sent word ahead.
Either way, we were running out of time.
I sat by the fire, the folio open across my knees, and stared at the names. Merchants. Brokers. Minor lords who'd profited from the chaos on the border. I'd thought, when we started compiling this, that it would be simple. Find the guilty, present the evidence, let justice follow.
I'd been naive.
The more I looked at the pattern, the more I understood that this wasn't about one house or one conspiracy. It was about power. About nobles and merchants and brokers all fighting for influence while the Crown tried to hold the center. Rothera was part of it, yes, but they weren't alone. They were just one thread in a web that stretched across Cerasis and beyond.
And pulling one thread might unravel the whole thing. Or it might just get me killed.
"You're thinking too loud."
I looked up. Sael stood at the edge of the firelight, a cup of wine in one hand.
"Just reviewing," I said.
"May I?" He gestured to the space beside me.
I nodded, and he sat, close enough to see the folio but not close enough to read it without permission.
"You've realized it, haven't you?" he said after a moment.
"Realized what?"
"That Rothera isn't the problem. They're a symptom." He took a sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. "The raids, the disruptions, the missing shipments, they're all part of a larger game. Houses like Rothera use the chaos to weaken their rivals, to secure trade routes, to position themselves for when the Crown inevitably needs to make concessions. It's not about destroying the monarchy. It's about making sure they're indispensable when the monarchy needs them."
I closed the folio carefully. "You seem to know a lot about how great houses operate."
"I'm a magistrate's envoy. It's my job to understand how power moves." He met my gaze. "But you're right to be suspicious. Everyone in Cerasis has an angle, Captain. Everyone wants something. The question is whether what they want aligns with what you need."
"And what do you want?"
"I told you already. Access. Influence. A chance to be part of the solution instead of just documenting the problem." He paused. "But I also want to see the people responsible held accountable. Rothera, the other houses, the ministers who look the other way. They've been operating with impunity for too long."
"Because the Crown lets them."
"Because the Crown is weak. Or at least, perceived as weak. The Emperor is old, his heirs are divided, and the great houses smell blood in the water. They're positioning themselves for the succession, and every raid, every disruption, every piece of chaos is a move on the board."
I thought about that. About the Emperor, old and distant in his capital. About houses fighting silent wars while the borderlands burned.
"If the Crown is weak," I said slowly, "then what makes you think they'll act on my folio?"
"Because you're not asking them to choose sides. You're giving them an excuse to consolidate power. If they can prove the great houses are destabilizing the realm, they can justify cracking down. Seizing assets. Redistributing influence." He leaned forward. "But you need to present it right. You need to make it about the Crown's authority, not about justice for the borderlands. Justice doesn't move the court, Captain. Power does."
I hated that he was right.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"Think quickly. We're a week out from Cerasis. Maybe less. And when we arrive, you'll have one chance to make your case. If you waste it, the houses will close ranks and bury you."
He stood, draining his wine, and walked back toward his men.
I watched him go, then looked down at the folio. At the names and the numbers and the careful documentation of three years of suffering.
Justice doesn't move the court.
Power does.
***
Maer found me later, after the camp had settled and the watches had been posted. He sat down beside me without asking, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"You look troubled," he said.
"I'm always troubled."
"More than usual, then."
I didn't answer. I pulled the Rothera token from my pocket and turned it over in my fingers, the gold catching the firelight.
"Sael's right," I said finally. "About the houses. About how this is bigger than just Rothera. If I go to Cerasis and accuse one house, the others will protect them. They'll close ranks because letting one fall means they could all fall."
"So what do you do?"
"I don't know yet. Find more evidence. Connect more threads. Make the case so strong they can't ignore it."
"And if they ignore it anyway?"
I looked at him. At the scar on his jaw, the warmth in his eyes, the way he looked at me like I mattered more than the mission.
"Then I've failed," I said quietly.
"You won't fail."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." He reached out, slowly, and brushed a strand of hair back from my face. His fingers lingered, warm against my skin. "You don't give up. You don't stop. Even when you should."
"Especially when I should."
He smiled, small and sad. "Ryn, what happens when this is over? When you've delivered the folio, when the Crown has acted or not acted, what do you do?"
"I go back to Droupet."
"And then?"
"Then I keep working. There's always more work."
"And me?"
The question hung between us, fragile and dangerous. I should've had an answer. Should've been able to tell him something, anything. But the truth was, I hadn't let myself think about it. About what happened after. About whether there was room in my life for anything beyond duty.
"I don't know," I said.
He nodded slowly, like he'd expected that. "Can I tell you something?"
"If you want."
"I think you're afraid. Not of failing. Not of dying. But of wanting something for yourself. Of letting yourself have something that isn't about protecting other people."
I pulled back slightly. "That's not fair."
"No, it's not. But it's true." He caught my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "Ryn, I'm not asking you to choose me over your duty. I'm just asking you to consider that maybe you could have both. That maybe you're allowed to want more than just survival."
I looked down at our joined hands. At the way his fingers fit between mine, warm and steady.
"I can't think about that right now," I said.
"When, then?"
"After. When this is finished."
"And if after never comes?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, soft and deliberate. Then he let go and stood.
"I'll take the next watch," he said. "Get some rest, Captain."
He walked away, leaving me alone by the fire with the token and the folio and the weight of everything I couldn't let myself want.
***
The next morning, we broke camp late as promised. Sael's men were rested, moving with renewed energy as we packed up and prepared to ride. I checked the perimeter one last time, scanning the tree line for signs of our watchers.
Nothing. But that didn't mean they weren't there.
"Ready?" Joss asked, leading my horse over.
"Almost." I secured my saddlebags and turned to find Sael standing behind me, holding a folded piece of parchment.
"This arrived this morning," he said. "One of my men found it tied to a tree on the perimeter."
I took it, unfolding it carefully. The writing was cramped and hurried, the ink smudged in places.
Captain Halvar,
You're being watched. The houses know you're coming. Rothera has sent word to Cerasis. They're preparing for you.
If you want proof, look for the broker. His name is Darrik Venn. He operates out of a tavern called the Split Coin, three streets south of the River Gate. He knows about the Cast-Runner. He knows where the payments go.
Be careful. The houses don't forgive easily.
A friend in the capital.
I read it twice, then handed it to Joss. He scanned it quickly, his expression darkening.
"Could be a trap," he said.
"Could be. But if it's real, it's exactly what we need." I looked at Sael. "You know this tavern? The Split Coin?"
"I know of it. It's in the lower districts. Not the kind of place magistrates usually visit, but it's known for brokering deals. Grey market, mostly. If this Darrik Venn operates there, he's connected."
"Then that's where we go first. Before we deliver the folio. Before we approach the court."
Sael frowned. "Captain, if the houses know you're coming, they'll be waiting. Walking into the lower districts without protection is asking to be ambushed."
"Then we bring protection. Your men. Joss. Maer." I folded the letter and tucked it into my coat. "But we go. Because if this broker knows about the Cast-Runner, he can lead us to whoever's giving the orders. And that's the thread we need to pull."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it carefully."
Sael studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. But we do this my way. We go in quiet, we go in smart, and we have an exit plan."
"Agreed."
We mounted up and rode south, the letter heavy in my pocket, the token heavier still.
A friend in the capital.
I didn't believe in friends I hadn't met. But I believed in leads.
And this was the best one we had.
***
The road stretched on, winding through valleys and over low hills. We passed traders and travelers, couriers and farmers heading to market. Normal life, continuing despite the chaos at the edges.
By evening, we could see the first signs of Cerasis on the horizon. A haze of smoke from a thousand chimneys, the distant glint of spires and towers, the sense of something vast and sprawling waiting ahead.
The capital.
I'd never been there before. I'd spent my whole life in the north, in small towns and garrison outposts, in places where power felt distant and abstract. But Cerasis was where power lived. Where the Emperor sat on his throne, where the great houses schemed and maneuvered, where the fate of the realm was decided.
And I was about to walk into the center of it with nothing but a folio, a token, and a list of names.
"Nervous?" Maer asked, riding up beside me.
"No."
"Liar."
I almost smiled. "Maybe a little."
"Good. Means you're smart." He glanced at the city. "I've been there a few times. It's beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Just... don't let it overwhelm you. Remember why you're there.
"I won't forget."
"I know." He reached out and squeezed my hand, brief and reassuring. "But if you do, I'll remind you."
We rode on as the sun set, the city growing larger with every mile, and I thought about justice and power and the difference between the two.
And I wondered which one would win.