The warehouse district at night was a different world.
The daytime bustle of merchants and laborers disappeared after sunset, leaving only shadows and the sound of water lapping against the docks. We took position in an abandoned building across from the warehouse I'd marked, settling in for what might be a long watch.
Joss took the first shift at the window while I sat against the wall, organizing my notes. Maer had insisted on coming despite my protests, and he sat in the far corner, cleaning his blades with methodical care.
The first hour passed in silence.
The second hour brought a single visitor, a man in plain clothes who knocked twice, waited, then left when no one answered. Not part of the network, then. Just someone who didn't know Maros had moved on.
The third hour, someone came who mattered.
"Movement," Joss said quietly.
I crossed to the window. A figure approached the warehouse, moving with purpose. Not a runner this time. Someone older, better dressed. He carried a leather case under one arm and moved with the kind of confidence that came from authority.
He knocked, a specific pattern. Three sharp raps, pause, two more. The door opened immediately.
"That's a signal," I said. "Pre-arranged."
"Can't see who opened it from here," Joss muttered.
We watched. The man disappeared inside. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Then the door opened again, and he left, walking quickly back toward the merchant district.
"Follow him?" Joss asked.
"No. I want to know what's inside that warehouse."
"Ryn, if there are people in there, if it's guarded..."
"Then we'll be careful." I stood and checked my weapons. "Maer, you stay here. Watch the door. If we're not out in twenty minutes, get Sael and the others."
"I should come with you."
"I need someone watching our backs. That's you."
He didn't look happy, but he nodded.
Joss and I slipped out the back and circled around to approach the warehouse from the side. There was a narrow gap between buildings, barely wide enough for one person. We edged through it until we reached a window set high in the warehouse wall.
Joss cupped his hands, and I stepped up, peering through the grimy glass.
The interior was dim, lit by a single lantern. Crates stacked along the walls. A table in the center with papers spread across it. And two men, one young and nervous, the other older with grey in his beard, speaking in low tones.
I couldn't hear the words, but I could see the papers. Ledgers. Maps. Lists of names.
The older man pointed to something on the map, and the younger one nodded, making notes. Then the older man pulled out a small pouch and set it on the table. The younger one took it, checked the contents, and tucked it into his coat.
Payment.
I dropped back down. "Two men inside. They're moving payments, coordinating something. We need those papers."
"How? We can't just walk in."
"No. But we can wait until they leave and then go in after."
"They might take everything with them."
"Then we follow them and take it."
Joss exhaled slowly. "This is getting complicated."
"It was always complicated."
We moved back to our watching position and waited. Another hour passed. Finally, the door opened, and both men emerged. The older man locked the door behind them, and they walked off in opposite directions.
"Now," I said.
We crossed to the door. The lock was old but solid. Joss pulled a set of picks from his belt and went to work while I kept watch. It took him three minutes, which felt like thirty, but finally the lock clicked open.
We slipped inside and closed the door behind us.
The warehouse smelled of dust and old timber. I relit the lantern they'd left behind and brought it to the table. The papers were still there, exactly as I'd seen them.
I spread them out, scanning quickly. More payment records, but these were different. More detailed. Names I recognized. Ministers. Clerks. And at the bottom of one page, a notation that made my blood run cold.
Cast Runner, approved disbursements for northern operations. Ministerial authority confirmed.
"Joss, look at this."
He leaned over my shoulder. "That's ministerial approval. Direct confirmation that the Crown's own people are funding this."
"Not just funding. Directing." I pointed to another section. "See this? Specific instructions for which routes to target, which merchants to pressure, which garrisons to delay. This isn't corruption. It's coordination."
"Then we take it. All of it."
"No. If we take it, they'll know someone was here. They'll adjust, move everything, and we'll lose the trail." I pulled out my journal and started copying the key sections, my hand moving fast across the page. "We document it. We leave everything exactly as we found it. And we use this to trace the ministers back to their source."
Joss kept watch at the window while I worked. Five minutes. Ten. My hand cramped, but I kept writing. Names, amounts, dates, authorizations.
Then Joss hissed, "Someone's coming."
I looked up. Through the window, I could see a figure approaching. Not the men from before. Someone new.
"We need to go. Now."
I grabbed the last page I'd been copying, shoved it into my coat, and extinguished the lantern. We moved to the back of the warehouse, feeling our way through the darkness. There had to be another exit. There was always another exit.
I found it. A small door, half-hidden behind stacked crates. I tried the handle. Unlocked.
We slipped through just as I heard the front door open behind us.
We emerged into an alley and ran, not stopping until we'd put three streets between us and the warehouse. When we finally slowed, both of us breathing hard, I checked to make sure we hadn't been followed.
Clear.
"That was close," Joss said.
"But we got what we needed."
I pulled out the copied pages and reviewed them under the light of a street lamp. Everything was there. Proof of ministerial coordination. Proof that the Cast Runner operated with official approval. Proof that the conspiracy reached into the heart of the Crown itself.
"This changes everything," I said quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we can't just expose Rothera anymore. We have to expose the ministers. And if we expose the ministers, we're going after the Emperor's own government." I looked at Joss. "This could tear the realm apart."
"Or it could save it."
"Maybe. If we do it right."
We walked back toward the Cracked Bell, and I thought about the choice ahead. I could present this evidence to Edrin, use him as a shield while the court tore itself apart. Or I could go directly to the Emperor and risk everything on the hope that he'd choose justice over stability.
Neither option was good.
But one of them was necessary.
When we got back, Maer was waiting in my room. He stood when I entered, his expression tight with worry.
"You were gone too long."
"We found something. Had to copy it quickly."
"What did you find?"
I showed him the pages. He read them slowly, his expression darkening with each line.
"This is treason," he said quietly. "Not just corruption. Actual treason. Ministers working against the realm's interests for profit."
"Yes."
"Ryn, if you present this, they'll come for you. Not just the houses. The Crown itself. The Emperor won't tolerate this kind of exposure. It makes him look weak, makes his government look compromised."
"I know."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because it's the truth. Because people are dying. Because someone has to."
He set the papers down and crossed to me, catching my shoulders. "Listen to me. You've done enough. You've gathered the evidence, you've traced the conspiracy, you've proven what you set out to prove. Let someone else finish it. Let Edrin, let Sael, let anyone else take the risk."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I stop now, if I hand this off to someone else, they'll bury it. They'll take what they need and discard the rest. And nothing will change." I pulled away from him. "I have to see this through. All the way."
"Even if it kills you?"
"Even then."
He stared at me, and I saw something break behind his eyes. Not anger. Resignation.
"You're never going to choose anything for yourself, are you?" he said quietly. "You're never going to let yourself have something that isn't about duty or sacrifice or saving people who might not even deserve it."
"Maer..."
"No. I need to say this." He stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "I love you. I've loved you since the waystation, since you let me bandage your wounds and didn't pull away. I've loved you through every fight, every investigation, every moment you've pushed yourself past breaking. And I would follow you anywhere, do anything you asked. But I can't watch you destroy yourself."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because they were unexpected, but because they were true. Because I'd known, somewhere deep down, and I'd been pretending I didn't.
"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it.
"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you want this. Want the martyrdom, want the sacrifice. Like you think suffering is the only thing that makes you worthy."
"That's not fair."
"No, it's not. But it's true, isn't it? You've been carrying guilt since your parents died. Since Harven died. Since every person you couldn't save. And you think if you just work hard enough, fight long enough, give up enough, somehow that will make it right."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong. But I couldn't.
"I don't know how to be anything else," I said quietly.
"Then learn. Or let me go." His hands dropped to his sides. "Because I can't stay and watch you burn yourself out for a cause that doesn't care if you survive."
"I need you."
"You need everyone. But you don't let anyone need you back. And that's not love, Ryn. That's just loneliness with extra steps."
He walked to the door and paused, looking back.
"When you're ready to want something for yourself, when you're ready to believe you're worth more than just what you can sacrifice, I'll be waiting. But I won't wait forever."
Then he was gone, and I was alone with the evidence and the weight of everything I'd chosen.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the copied pages. At the proof of conspiracy, the names of corrupt ministers, the authorization codes that connected everything back to the Crown.
This was what I'd come to Cerasis to find.
This was what I'd sacrificed everything for.
And it felt hollow.
I thought about Maer's words. About guilt and martyrdom and whether I'd been chasing justice or just punishing myself for surviving when others hadn't.
I didn't have an answer.
But I had evidence.
And tomorrow, I'd take it to Edrin and see if the prince was willing to burn down his father's government for the sake of the realm.
Or for the sake of his own ambition.
Either way, we were about to find out how far this conspiracy really went.