The broker's name was Terrik Vane.
It took us two days to confirm it. Two days of watching the building, tracking who came and went, cross-referencing with the payment records we'd copied. Terrik Vane, merchant broker, registered with the Cerasis trade guild, known for handling sensitive transactions for clients who preferred discretion.
On the surface, legitimate. Beneath, something else entirely.
"He's a middleman," Sael said when I brought him the information. "He moves money between parties who don't want direct connections. Merchants hire him to negotiate deals. Houses use him to funnel payments they don't want traced. If Maros Welle is using him, it's because he needs someone with credibility, someone the court won't immediately suspect."
"Can we turn him?"
"Maybe. If he's more afraid of exposure than he is of his employers." Sael leaned back in his chair. "But you'll need leverage. Something that hurts him worse than cooperating with you."
I pulled out the payment records. "We have proof he's moving money for the conspiracy. If that comes out, the trade guild revokes his license, his clients abandon him, and he's finished."
"That might work. But you need to approach it carefully. Men like Terrik don't break easily. They're used to pressure, used to threats. You need to make him believe cooperating is his only path to survival."
"Then we take him somewhere private and make him believe it."
Sael smiled, thin and approving. "You're learning."
We took Terrik three nights later.
He left his office after dark, walking alone through the merchant district. We waited until he turned down a quiet street, then Joss stepped out ahead while I came up behind. Two of Sael's men blocked the side alleys.
Terrik stopped, his hand going to his coat. "I don't have coin on me. Find someone else to rob."
"We're not robbers," I said. "We're investigators. And you're going to answer some questions."
His expression shifted, calculation replacing fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then this should be a short conversation." I nodded to Joss, who pulled him into the alley. We moved quickly, taking him to a rented room Sael had secured, far from the merchant district and its prying eyes.
Inside, we sat him in a chair. He looked between us, still calm, still calculating.
"You're making a mistake," he said. "I'm a registered broker. I have connections. If I disappear, people will notice."
"Then you'd better answer quickly so we can let you go." I set the payment records on the table in front of him. "These are yours. Transactions you facilitated. Money moving from houses to Maros Welle's operations. We have proof."
He glanced at the papers but didn't touch them. "I don't know anyone named Maros Welle."
"Try again."
"I'm a broker. I move money for clients. That's all. I don't ask questions about what the money is for."
"You knew these payments were funding raids. You knew merchants were being set up, garrisons delayed, people killed. And you did it anyway."
"I did my job. What clients do with their money isn't my concern."
I leaned forward. "It is now. Because we're taking this to the Crown. And when we do, your name is on every page. The trade guild will revoke your license. Your clients will abandon you. You'll be finished."
His jaw tightened, the first crack in his composure. "What do you want?"
"Names. Who hired you? Who gave you the instructions? Who authorized the payments?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both. If I talk, I'm dead. If I don't talk, I'm ruined." He looked at me, and I saw genuine fear beneath the calculation. "You don't understand what you're asking. The people behind this, they don't forgive. They don't negotiate. They eliminate problems."
"Then help us eliminate them first. Give us names, testimony, proof. We protect you, you testify, and when this is over, you disappear into a new life somewhere safe."
"There is no safe. Not from them."
"There is if you help us break the network. If we take down the houses, the ministers, the Cast Runner, then there's no one left to come after you."
He was quiet for a long moment, weighing the impossible choice. Finally, he exhaled slowly.
"If I talk, I need guarantees. Protection. A way out of Cerasis."
"You'll have it."
"And you'll keep my name out of the official records. I'll be a confidential source, nothing more."
"Agreed."
He stared at the papers, then at me. "All right. What do you want to know?"
"Start with Maros Welle. How do you contact him?"
"I don't. He contacts me. Sends instructions through couriers, tells me what to move and where. I never see him, never speak to him directly."
"Where do the instructions come from?"
"Different places. Drop points that change every few days. He's careful. Paranoid, even."
"What about the ministers? Which ones are involved?"
Terrik pulled the papers closer and pointed to specific entries. "These three. Minister Corvas, handles border security. Minister Hallon, treasury oversight. Minister Greave, trade regulation. They're all taking payments to keep the chaos going."
"Proof?"
"I facilitated the transfers. I have copies of the authorization codes, the routing instructions, everything." He met my gaze. "But you need to understand, they're not the top. They answer to someone else. Someone with enough authority to make this all disappear if they want."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Maros never told me. But the way he talked, the way the instructions were worded, there's someone above even the ministers. Someone in the palace itself."
My pulse quickened. "The Emperor?"
"I don't know. Could be. Could be someone close to him. All I know is, the real power behind this isn't in the trade houses or the ministerial offices. It's in the palace. And if you're going after them, Captain, you'd better be ready to burn everything down."
We extracted everything he knew over the next two hours. Names, payment routes, authorization codes, testimony about specific transactions. By the time we finished, we had enough to implicate three ministers, a dozen brokers, and half the great houses in Cerasis.
But the most important thing he gave us was a lead.
"There's a meeting," Terrik said as we prepared to leave. "Next week. Major players. Houses, brokers, someone from the palace. Maros is supposed to be there. It's rare, him showing up in person, but this is big. They're finalizing something."
"Where?"
"I don't know yet. The location gets announced the day before. But I can find out. I'm invited."
"Why are you invited?"
"Because I'm moving the final payments. Whatever they're planning, it costs money. A lot of it. And I'm the one facilitating the transfers."
I exchanged glances with Joss. This was it. A chance to catch Maros Welle in person, to see the full scope of the conspiracy in one place.
"Find out where," I said. "And when you do, send word immediately."
"And then?"
"Then you disappear. Take your proof, take your money, and get out of Cerasis before the whole thing collapses."
He nodded, relief and fear warring on his face. "I'll send word."
We let him go and watched him disappear into the night.
"You think he'll follow through?" Joss asked.
"He will if he wants to survive. And he's smart enough to know that's his best option."
We walked back toward the Cracked Bell, and I thought about palace connections and meetings and the final piece of the conspiracy we were about to uncover.
One week. One meeting. And we'd have everything.