Lucian sat in the chair, placed the report on the desk, and began reviewing it.
A pirate attack on one of their cargo ships. Half the crew killed, several injured, most of the goods stolen. A major blow to Goldhart Trading, a company that had never had trouble like this before.
"That explains it," he muttered.
The Sea Warlords and Admirals usually avoided Linberg territory. Three notorious Warlords controlled most of the open sea, and beneath them sat five Admirals, each commanding their own fleet and wanted across the continent. They were dangerous and backed by organizations. However, they went after high-value targets or artifacts. And based on the inventory, Goldhart didn't fit that profile.
He made a note and kept reading.
Lucian murmured, "I guess the Red Corps will handle the pirates," hoping the matter would be under control soon.
The Red Corps was one of the Church's elite agencies, the first sent to hunt and investigate rogue Awakened, dark cults, powerful artifacts, and forbidden knowledge.
The candle on the desk had burned low by the time he reached the second report. He shifted in the chair, his back stiff from sitting.
Twelve children. Abducted this month alone.
He stopped.
He remembered the missing posters he had seen in town. Names and rough sketches pinned close together, edges overlapping. Seeing them had unsettled him then. Reading the official numbers made it worse.
The report listed each abduction. Children taken from different areas, no clear pattern in time or location, no signs of any organized group. The authorities suspected they were targeting families of lower standing. Local law enforcement was struggling to make progress, which was why Father had stepped in.
"This case could be a disaster," he muttered.
The report said no group was involved. He didn't believe it.
The pattern was too deliberate to be random. Isolated areas, low-profile families, no witnesses. Someone was being careful. Whether it was ritual, entertainment, or something else entirely, the scale of it would only grow if nothing stopped it soon. He had read enough about dark organizations in the past to know how they operated.
He stood and walked to the shelves, pulling out geographical maps and what records he had on secret organizations operating in the region. He spread the map across the desk and began tracing the abduction sites against the patrol routes, the trade roads, the blind spots.
The disappearances clustered. Isolated patches, less patrolled, connected by roads most guards wouldn't think to watch.
He went back through the report a second time, counting instead of reading. Not the abductions. The complaints filed around them. Drunken fights, thefts, one stabbing, all in the weeks before and after. Most of the streets had two or three. One had eleven, and every one of them listed the same tavern near the warehouse row.
He circled it.
He marked five locations and wrote a short note on each, what to look for and a suggested plan. Then he set the shipping report beside the map and checked one against the other. Different areas, different methods. Nothing that connected the two.
Once he finished, he leaned back and read it over once more.
He sent for a maid.
A soft knock came at the door. "You called, young master?"
"Miss Anna, please deliver this to my father," he said, handing her the stack of notes.
As the door closed, he tidied the room, putting away the books and maps. Once everything was in place he headed to his bedroom, tired but satisfied.
. . .
Morning came quickly. After making his bed and getting dressed, Lucian heard a knock at the door. When he opened it, Sir Roswell stood there, the scar across his left cheek pale in the morning light.
"Good morning, young lord. Your father wants to see you."
"Okay," he replied, straightening his clothes before following him.
They made their way to Father's office. The corridors were unusually quiet, as if the household sensed something serious unfolding. When they entered, Father greeted him warmly and they sat together on the couch.
"Did I interrupt your morning, Lucy?" his father asked.
"Not really. I was just planning to read some books," Lucian replied.
He laughed softly. "You should prepare for tomorrow instead."
"Mother won't let me help. She said it's a surprise."
"You're right, I can't help either," Father said, sighing as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Tension lingered in his voice despite the lighter tone.
Lucian tried to ease it. "I think Mother will understand. Besides, she seems to be enjoying the preparations more than anyone."
That earned another quiet laugh. "You're right about that."
"Did you read the notes I sent?" Lucian asked.
"Yes. That's also the reason I called you."
Father reached across to the low table, unfolded the map, and turned it so Lucian could see. Five marks in his own hand stared back at him.
"Walk me through them."
Lucian leaned over and pointed. "The children were taken here, and here, and along this stretch. But all of it moves through the middle, through this warehouse." He traced the road running up from it. "And this road goes north, into our territory. There's a collapsed mine at the end of it."
Father nodded slowly. "I already sent guards to check the north." He tapped the warehouse. "This was new information. I issued the order this morning."
Lucian moved his finger a short way down the row and stopped on the circle he had drawn the night before.
"This tavern is worth a look. There seem to be an unusual number of reports coming from here."
"I'll have it checked."
Lucian hesitated, then went on. "The other thing. The stolen cargo isn't connected to this. Different areas, different timing, nothing that fits." He paused. "But just in case, try to look at Oldville port for illegal activity."
Father was quiet for a moment. "I'll have that checked too."
Before either of them could continue, a firm knock echoed through the room.
"Come in," Father said.
The door opened, and three tall men in red hoods stepped inside, the air around them sharpening instantly. Their faces were hidden in shadow and every movement felt practiced, disciplined.
The tallest of them, almost six and a half feet and built like a seasoned fighter, stepped forward.
"It's an honor to meet you, Count Luke. My name is John, and we are here at your request," he said with a bow.
"I'm surprised the Red Corps mobilized so quickly," Father replied.
"We were near Linberg when we received your request, so we came straight away," John explained.
"You're right in time. We were just discussing it," Father said, handing John a stack of papers. "This is the report and plan for this operation."
The thin man with a metallic red glow in his left eye lifted his gaze toward Lucian. His stare was sharp, evaluating.
"I'm called Vince, my lord. Is it all right for the Count's son to be here?" he asked quietly, with a hint of skepticism.
Father replied without hesitation. "He may look young, but he contributed to this operation."
Lucian stood and introduced himself. "Greetings. My name is Lucian."
Vince's expression twitched in slight surprise before he nodded. "If you say so, Count."
As they read through the papers, the room was filled with low voices and the steady rustle of documents.
John tapped a finger on the marked coastal route. "The pirate attack must be addressed first. Leaving them unchecked will give them room to expand and disrupt sea trade to Linberg."
Father nodded. "Agreed."
"Cole and I will handle the pirates and sweep the sea route," John continued, and the large man beside him shifted his weight, reinforced gauntlets creaking. "But if an Admiral or one of the Warlords is involved, we'll send words to the higher-ups immediately while keeping casualties low."
"If you approve, my lord," Cole added, his voice rough.
Father exhaled calmly. "Alright. I'll assign an officer and a unit to support you. They know Linberg's waters well."
Vince shifted the kidnapping report toward himself. "Good. While you handle the pirates, I'll focus on this."
His voice lowered. "Twelve abductions. Spread out, but consistent. Someone planned it."
John murmured in agreement. "Your skill will be useful for this one."
Vince nodded. "If it's the Demon Faction there will be traces. Blood, rituals, symbol patterns. If it's the Desire Lunatics there will be charm-marks or emotional disturbances left in the area." His tone remained flat. "Either way, I'll know soon enough."
Father leaned forward. "What do you need?"
"Access," Vince replied. "Witnesses, recent reports. And someone familiar with Linberg's layout."
Father glanced briefly at Lucian.
"I mapped out the high-risk areas," Lucian said quietly. "Five locations fit the pattern. Two of them sit on land that belongs to someone with a name worth knowing."
Vince's brow twitched. "Then your work will save us time."
They spent a few more minutes finalizing the details. Assignments were confirmed, supply lines discussed, and reserve points agreed upon.
Father straightened in his seat. "Good. I want this operation to be finished as quickly as possible. Use every resource you need."
As the discussion wound down, Father said, "Before the operation begins, you're welcome to stay here. I'll have rooms prepared and ensure you have everything you need. If there is anything else, do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Count Luke," John and his men replied in unison before following a maid out of the room.
Once the door closed, Father let out a quiet exhale.
He turned to Sir Roswell. "Tyrion, go and begin preparations."
"As you command, sir," Roswell replied, and left.
Lucian stepped out after him, the door closing softly behind him.