I'd been at the Brotherhood camp
for six days
when Maren put a folder on the table
in front of me and sat down.
I looked at the folder.
I looked at her.
"You're bored," she said.
"I'm fine," I said.
"You've reorganized the supply shelf twice,
you've mapped every building
including the one we use for storage
that has nothing interesting in it,
and Jorin says you've been
waking up before him
which he finds personally offensive
because he wakes up very early."
I had been a little bored.
"The two weeks —" I started.
"Church patrol passed yesterday.
Pattern resets." She tapped the folder.
"You're ready or you're not.
I'd like to know which."
I opened the folder.
One page. A name.
A location. A date.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATES BEFORE I FINISH READING]
[TARGET: MAGISTRATE HOLLEN]
[LOCATION: CARROW TOWN, THREE HOURS EAST]
[CRIME: FALSIFIED DARK ROLE CLASSIFICATIONS
FOR PAYMENT — 11 CHILDREN OVER 6 YEARS]
[CRIME: ACCEPTED BRIBES TO CLASSIFY
LIGHT ROLE CHILDREN AS DARK
WHEN FAMILIES COULDN'T PAY]
[CRIME: DESTROYED ORIGINAL ORB RECORDS]
[NET RESULT: 11 CHILDREN ABANDONED
OR EXECUTED FOR ROLES THEY DIDN'T HAVE]
I read it twice.
Eleven children.
Not Dark Role children
who were abandoned for what they were.
Children who weren't Dark Role at all
but whose families couldn't pay
to make the records say otherwise.
That was worse.
That was a different kind of worse.
"You've been watching him," I said.
"For eight months," Maren said.
"We couldn't move without proof.
The Brotherhood doesn't act on suspicion —
that's the rule that keeps us
from becoming the thing we're against."
"And now you have proof."
"We have four families willing to testify
to what they were told and what they paid.
We have a former Church clerk
who kept copies of the originals."
"So why do you need me?"
Maren looked at me steadily.
"Because Hollen has a vault
in his office at the magistrate's hall.
The clerk kept copies
but the originals are in that vault.
Without the originals
he destroys the copies,
the families recant under pressure,
and he retires comfortably
in four years as planned."
"You need someone to get the originals."
"I need someone who can walk
into a magistrate's hall
and make the magistrate open his own vault."
I thought about Dova.
About the four seconds of stillness.
About how guilt, properly aimed,
was more effective than a key.
"What's my limit?" I said.
Maren raised an eyebrow.
"If he has guards. If something goes wrong.
What am I allowed to do."
She was quiet for a moment.
"This is not an execution job," she said.
"Hollen answers to the families.
To the Brotherhood's council.
To whatever justice process
the Fractured East recognizes
when we get far enough to use it.
You get the documents.
You get out."
"And if he tries to stop me."
"Then you remind him
that you have the documents
and he has a trial coming
and the difference between
those two things going badly for him
is entirely up to him."
I nodded.
"Jorin comes," I said.
Maren blinked.
Slightly.
Almost invisible.
"Jorin is —"
"Fifteen, Saboteur Role, scar on his jaw,
been here two years,
knows how to move without being seen.
If something goes wrong
I need someone who can make an exit."
"You've been watching my people,"
she said.
"You told me not to read them.
You didn't say anything about watching."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then: "Fine. Jorin.
You follow his lead on movement.
He knows Carrow Town."
She stood up.
"Ren."
I looked up.
"The documents first," she said.
"Everything else second.
The job isn't about Hollen.
The job is about the eleven kids."
I picked up the folder.
"I know," I said.
================================================
Jorin did know Carrow Town.
He walked us through it
with the specific ease of someone
who has memorized a place
not because he likes it
but because knowing it
means it can't surprise him.
"Market day," he said quietly.
"Good. More people.
We're not anything unusual on market day."
I looked around.
He was right.
Carrow Town on market day
was three streets of noise and movement —
farmers, merchants, a Church presence
at the corner that was two bored soldiers
and a clerk doing paperwork.
The magistrate's hall was at the center.
Stone building. Two floors.
The kind of official architecture
that's designed to look permanent
and slightly intimidating.
"Guards?" I said.
"Two inside, one at the door.
The one at the door is Fenwick.
He's been on that door for nine years
and he's bad at it
because nothing has ever happened
at that door in nine years."
"And inside?"
"Hollen keeps one guard in the outer office,
one outside his personal office.
He doesn't keep anyone inside his office
because he doesn't want witnesses
to his personal business."
I thought about that.
"He's going to be alone," I said.
"Almost certainly," Jorin said.
"Which is why this works.
The Leverage ability only works
if there's no one to perform for."
I looked at him.
"You've thought about this," I said.
"I've had six days
of watching you be bored," he said.
"I had time."
We moved.
Fenwick at the door
was exactly as advertised —
a man who had spent nine years
being professionally unchallenged
and had the posture to prove it.
I walked up to him directly.
"I have a matter for the Magistrate,"
I said. Polite. Calm.
The voice of a child with legitimate business.
He looked at me.
He looked at Jorin.
"Magistrate doesn't see —"
"It's regarding the Aldenmere property survey
for the Eastern land registry,"
I said.
"He requested the documentation
be delivered personally."
I held up the Brotherhood's folder.
It contained nothing useful.
It looked exactly like documentation.
Fenwick looked at it.
Fenwick had been on this door nine years
and nothing had ever happened.
"Through and left," he said.
"Outer office."
I walked past him.
Jorin followed.
[ABILITY: LEVERAGE — PASSIVE OBSERVATION MODE]
[SCANNING OUTER OFFICE]
[GUARD: BREN — NO SIGNIFICANT CRIMES]
[CLERK: UNNAMED — NO SIGNIFICANT CRIMES]
[NOTE: CLEAN ROOM]
The clerk looked up.
"Property survey for the Magistrate,"
I said. Same voice. Same folder.
"He's with someone —"
"We'll wait," I said pleasantly.
We waited.
Four minutes.
A merchant came out of the inner office
looking satisfied.
I didn't need the system
to understand what kind of satisfied.
The clerk gestured us through.
The guard outside Hollen's door
barely looked at us.
We were children with a folder.
We had gotten through three checkpoints.
The system of official architecture
had decided we were legitimate
before any individual human had to.
I opened the door.
================================================
Magistrate Hollen was fifty-something.
Well-fed. Good coat.
The specific comfort of a man
whose decisions had always
worked out for him.
He looked up from his desk.
The system didn't wait.
[TARGET: MAGISTRATE HOLLEN]
[CRIMES: LOADED AND ACTIVE]
[RECOMMENDED APPROACH: DIRECT]
[NOTE: HE THINKS YOU ARE CHILDREN]
[NOTE: USE IT]
"Good afternoon," I said.
"The clerk said a survey —"
"There's no survey," I said.
I sat down across from him.
Jorin closed the door behind us
and stayed near it.
"My name isn't important.
What's important is that I know
about the eleven children."
Hollen's face did something.
Fast. Controlled.
He was better at it than Dova.
"I don't know what you —"
"Maret family. Toven family.
The Grist twins." I watched his face.
"Should I keep going
or would you like to open the vault
and save us both some time."
"You're a child," he said.
Careful. Not panicked.
Reassessing.
"I'm a child with a Villain Role
and a complete record of everything
you've done in this office
for six years," I said.
"The Role is very thorough.
I find it one of its better qualities."
He looked at me.
I let him look.
The silence stretched out
the same way it had with Dova —
that specific quality of quiet
where a person is doing math
about how bad their situation is
and coming up with a number
they don't like.
Dova had guilt about his son.
Hollen had guilt about eleven children.
I watched him do the math.
"The vault," I said quietly.
"Then you have time
to decide how to handle
what comes next.
That's actually a reasonable offer.
I'd take it."
His jaw worked.
Then he stood up.
He walked to the bookshelf on the left wall.
He moved three books.
Behind them: a panel.
Behind the panel: a dial.
He opened it with his back to me
like he was hoping I wouldn't memorize
the combination.
I memorized the combination.
He pulled out a bound folder
and set it on the desk.
I opened it.
Eleven names.
Original classifications.
Dates. Payments received.
The handwriting of a man
who had kept very clean records
of very dirty business
because he'd never imagined
anyone would find them.
[SYSTEM: EVIDENCE CONFIRMED]
[INTEGRITY: ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS]
[NOTE: THESE ARE SUFFICIENT]
I closed the folder.
Picked it up.
Stood.
"The Brotherhood will be in contact,"
I said.
"About the process.
I'd recommend cooperating.
I've found the outcomes are generally better
for people who cooperate."
Hollen said nothing.
He was looking at the wall
where the vault was.
The specific look of someone
watching something they built
come apart.
I walked to the door.
Jorin opened it.
We walked out through the outer office —
clerk, guard, folder under my arm,
the same two children
with legitimate business —
past Fenwick at the door
who was on year nine of nothing happening,
and into the market street
where Carrow Town continued
completely unaware.
Jorin said nothing
until we were two streets away.
Then: "The combination."
"What about it."
"You memorized it."
"Habit," I said.
"The documents are right there."
"The documents are for the eleven kids,"
I said. "The combination is for later.
In case Hollen decides
to put something worse
in that vault
before the Brotherhood's process catches up."
Jorin was quiet for a moment.
"That's either very strategic," he said,
"or slightly terrifying."
"I'm a Villain," I said.
"Probably both."
He almost laughed.
Controlled it.
The system pulsed.
[JOB COMPLETE]
[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: ACHIEVED]
[HOLLEN STATUS: CONTAINED]
[NOTE: MAREN WILL BE PLEASED]
[NOTE: JORIN IS USEFUL]
[NOTE: YOU WORK WELL
WHEN SOMEONE WORKS WITH YOU]
[NOTE: REMEMBER THAT]
I tucked the folder under my arm
and followed Jorin back
through the market crowd
and thought about eleven names
in a bound folder
and a vault combination
I hadn't needed yet.
The day wasn't even over.
The list was very long.
I was ten years old
and I had nowhere to be
but forward.
That was enough.