Ilya's Spirit Animal dropped a small note in my hand. There was no suspicious movement on Byrne's side. Now that we knew his plan involved installing a hundred enchanted metal plates, we could easily surveil him. If he wanted to surprise us, he would need a hundred helpers installing the plates all over the city at the same time. Ilya had pointed out that Byrne could use the members of the Arcane Circle, but that would raise a lot of questions from the Adepts and Preceptors who were more keen on strange magic activity.

I shoved those worries aside and focused on Nasiah's Ledger. Although the book was old and worn out, it had a strong reinforcement enchantment. However, that was where my understanding of the enchantment ended. Much like the Runeblade, the Ledger was probably created by Baram or a Runeweaver with similar abilities, because the enchantment circuits were more complex than I could understand.

Using it was easy, though. The book apparently had knowledge of all commercial exchanges everywhere, though it would only show the user those completed within a one-kilometer radius. The list was sorted by date, with the most recent transactions from the day before on the last page. Therefore, if one wanted to see past exchanges, one just had to turn the pages back. It was impossible to sort for a particular item, but the explanatory note told me that Ledger detected what kind of merchant the user was and sorted the entries accordingly. For that reason, I bought and sold a few potions and alchemical ingredients at the few stores and stands I found open late in the afternoon. The Ledger then decided I was a potion seller, so it showed me the prices of potions, poisons, ointments, boluses, cataplasms, and all kinds of ingredients.

I could tell from the list of medicines sold that we were in the poorest part of the city.

I stood on a rooftop in the northern side of the East Ward and examined the Ledger. The sun had already set, but thanks to my Night Vision, I could see the tight handwriting like it were noon. I turned the pages, looking for raw Ashthorn or its refined forms. There were hundreds of entries for the most common alchemical ingredients on each page, but only a handful for the most expensive ones. I went back three months in time, and I concluded that within the radius, no one had dealt with Ashthorn or Ashtorn-based Energy-Boost Potions.

Luckily for me, the potions also listed their active components in parentheses.

There were several ways of brewing a Health Potion, but ninety percent of them followed the three or four most common recipes given by the System.

I closed the Ledger, moved two kilometers south, and repeated the process.

My mind wandered as [Foresight] processed the information of the pages in the back of my brain. To turn a strong poison like Ashthorn into a stamina potion required a Transmutter or at least a high-level Alchemist with an exotic skill. I couldn't tell with absolute certainty if this was the same scenario as Lord Vedras and his concealed poison. However, the anti-nobility movement seemed to have the funds and influence to access powerful individuals.

The Ledger showed nothing useful.

I repositioned.

Kili told me that after the fall of the Red Hawk Trading Company, other groups quickly filled the power void. However, unlike Red and his people, these groups worked in the shadows due to a local vigilante called the Sound Bandit. Kili believed the Sound Bandit was merely a story invented to cover up acts of sabotage between bands. In her opinion, if someone with the talent of the Sound Bandit existed, he was better off working for a merchant company or the personal guard of a minor noble.

There was no good reason for a vigilante to run around Cadria.

I smiled. Half of the guys and girls from my old HEMA club would've become vigilantes if given the powers of a Fencer or a Sentinel. If I weren't so busy, I would probably try it.

A line on the Ledger caught my attention. Five hundred grams of Ashthorn had been sold for a thousand and a hundred and thirty-two gold coins only two weeks ago.

"There you are."

My experience brewing with Elincia told me that half a kilo was a lot. Half a kilo of Ashthorn could easily become a hundred potions in the hands of an experienced Alchemist with a good support team.

The sale had taken place within a kilometer of my position. Now I had to figure out where. I repositioned five hundred meters to the east and searched for the transaction. Nothing. I moved around until I reduced the area to an irregular block in the heart of the poorest section of the East Ward, where buildings seemed to grow over each other like a fungal invasion.

"Bingo."

I pulled down my cloak and examined the area. The tallest building was seven stories high, but three- to five-story buildings were more common. Most of them seemed to be residential buildings with workshops like Wren's and stores on the base floor. I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, clung to ledges, and circled the area, checking the Scry Ledger as I went, until I narrowed the possibilities down to just a few buildings nestled in the center of the block. A warehouse, a courtyard, and a stable connected to the outer world by a narrow winding alley.

At the entrance of the alley, there were two figures casually chatting.

As I went back through the pages, the Scry Ledger told me that more suspicious transactions had taken place there. Two hundred grams of Ashthorn two months ago, another hundred grams six months ago.

I observed the place from above until a man exited the warehouse and lit a smoke. The distance and the solid roof prevented me from detecting mana signatures inside the buildings, but I doubted there was a sole guard.

I resisted the urge to go down and ask him nicely about the rates of alchemical ingredients. I was there to gather information, memorize faces, figure out their numbers, and establish a chain of command—not pick a fight.

The chance that this was a storage for a normal alchemist merchant was slim. The amount of money they moved was too high for a place hidden in the East Ward. It was obvious they wanted to keep things away from the eyes of the city guard.

"But what are you doing in there?" I whispered.

When the man finished his cigarette and returned inside, I dropped into the courtyard. The place was old, like the rest of the East Ward, but the complex design of the floor tiles made me think this used to be a wealthy mansion at some point. Any other indication of the past splendor was long gone.

Outside the stables were merchant carts, each with a different insignia painted on the side. The Osgirian white tower, the golden field with two olive branches of the Gairon House, the Greymarch Company crest, and even the Vedras tree. The paintwork was good, but after seeing the real deal traveling Cadria's streets, I knew they were knock-offs.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I peeked inside the warehouse. In the far right corner, around the fireplace, were five rowdy-looking men with swords on their belts. In the far left corner was an alchemist's worktable. A middle-aged man was brewing low-quality potions. I didn't need my [Foresight] to know his work was shoddy at best.

The potions were arranged on racks of twelve or twenty-four and placed in boxes marked with the same crests as the carts outside. They were falsifying potion cargoes. I ran the mental math in my head. Like any other low-quality goods, low-quality potions were sold for mere copper pieces while high-quality potions were sold for gold.

Nasiah had bought our High-Quality Health Potions for two pieces of gold each, minus her commission. Of course, it had happened during the threat of a Monster Surge. Assuming the price here was similar, this operation left anything between twenty and twenty-three pieces of gold per rack after accounting for materials.

Considering the number of crates in the room, the business was good.

I wondered how many more 'workers' this place had. To carry out a scam of this magnitude, they needed high-level Scribes to forge magically signed documents, level thirty and above warriors to serve as guards and caravan hands, and enough people with powerful stealth and obfuscation skills. None of that work was particularly cheap.

I pulled back and wandered around the courtyard, examining the rooms built along the perimeter. Most of them were empty or used as storerooms for cheap alchemical ingredients. I needed to find the office of the operation's leader, and hopefully, a client's ledger.

The last room looked more like a living space. Using a small mana scalpel, I cut the lock and opened the door. Looking over my shoulder, I entered and closed the door behind me. The room was nearly completely dark. I wouldn't have been able to see anything without [Night Vision]. It didn't smell great. I heard whispering.

Behind an empty bookshelf, an iron door blocked a hole in the wall. Begrudgingly, I cut the lock. The hole in the wall connected the courtyard room to one of the adjacent buildings. It resembled a jail. At the back of the room, what should have been the building's entrance was walled up.

Almost ten people were huddled together in the corner of the room, from kids to the elderly, all dressed in rags with heavy shackles around their ankles. I could see them clearly, but they couldn't see me. I used [Mirage] to cover the upper half of my face with shadows, then create a source of light. In the corner, a man was tied up from head to foot with iron chains. I guessed he was the only combat class of the group.

My mind connected the dots. They were indentured servants ready to be shipped off.

Their eyes grew wide in fear as they looked at me, but I brought my finger to my lips to signal them to remain silent. I couldn't let the criminals know someone was spying on their operation until I got the name of the person who bought the Ashthorn. The Alchemist in the warehouse didn't look like someone who could brew something greater than a lowly health potion. My main theory was that these people were mere suppliers.

Before I could say anything, a distant pulse reached my ears, like someone was blasting bass-heavy music from afar. It took me a moment to remember there was no such thing as speakers in Ebros. The pulse became stronger.

"Wait here. I'll be back," I whispered, grabbing a loose stone from the floor and enchanting a Light Stone. I handed it to the eldest man and returned to the courtyard, always standing in the shadows, covered in [Mirage].

The thugs exited the warehouse, swords in their hands, as the ones watching over the alley entered the courtyard. "The Sound Bandit!"

Suddenly, the pulsating sound stopped. I held my breath. The night was completely silent, and my hands were covered in sweat. Then, out of nowhere, a cloaked figure dropped from the rooftop across the courtyard. The thugs froze.

The hair on my arms stood on end.

The Sound Bandit covered his face with a retro hockey mask.

With an elegant movement, the Sound Bandit pulled a gladius-like sword from his cloak. I barely managed to get a look at the other sword on their belt before he dashed forward. The thugs scrambled to the sides, like they had practiced those movements a thousand times.

The pulse hit me again, and the world seemed to tilt forward. The next thing I knew, I was on my fours, clutching for my dear life not to faceplant on the stone floor. Still, I managed to raise my head.

The Sound Bandit smashed his knee into a thug's face, landed on the floor, and blocked the clumsy lunge of another. He let the thug's sword pass by and grabbed his wrist. Then, with a killer uppercut, he dislocated the thug's elbow. Screams of pain echoed through the night.

The Sound Bandit—whom I decided was a he—didn't stab anyone, but he sure had his mind set on hurting them. Other than the pulse, he hadn't used any skill, so it was hard to tell what Class he was. The beating continued as the thugs fought to regain their balance. Not five minutes later, the thugs were sprawled on the floor, each with at least one joint looking in the wrong direction.

The pulse stopped, and I was able to stand on my two feet without the ground moving like a fricking Gravitron.

The Sound Bandit turned around, without detecting me, and entered the warehouse. Not a minute later, he exited with a coffer and a thick ledger under one arm. [Foresight] told me that might be the book I was looking for.

I dropped the cloak of shadow except for the part that covered my face and entered the courtyard. The Sound Bandit was startled by my sudden appearance. I used [Identify], but surprisingly, the skill bounced. He tilted his head, not quite offended like the other people I had identified without permission, but curious.

"That book is mine!"

The pulse hit me, but this time I was ready. [Foresight] somewhat allowed me to stand straight. The floor still tilted and wavered, but my skill was enough to counter part of the effect. I drew my sword and dashed forward.

The Sound Bandit drew, not his gladius but the other sword. Mana surged through the blade. It was enchanted, but the dizzying effect of the pulse prevented me from focusing on the runes. We exchanged blows. The Sound Bandit was strong, and even with a coffer full of what I supposed was gold and silver because of its sound, he moved with cat-like grace.

A Fencer?

The pulse became stronger, and I summoned a flying mana blade to compensate for my loss of motor skills. As much as I wanted the ledger, I didn't want to kill the local Robin Hood. Even more if he were from Earth.

I couldn't see through the hockey mask.

The Sound Bandit parried my blow, and a kick to the chest sent me staggering back. He seized the moment and jumped to the roof. Channeling [Minor Aerokinesis], I followed. He looked over his shoulder, and even with the hockey mask, I could tell he was starting to panic.

If I had to guess, he was in his low thirties.

I didn't expect him to throw his sword at me. I slid over the wooden shingles and parried the projectile, just for it to fly back at his hand like a boomerang. I channeled more mana into [Minor Aerokinesis], and I shot forward, stumbling over the rooftops like a drunk cat. Seeing he wasn't going to stop me with cheap thicks, he threw the ledger down into the streets.

I jumped down and caught it before it could hit the ground.

When I looked up, the Sound Bandit was nowhere to be found.

"That was… interesting," I muttered, pulling the ledger inside my cloak.

There was no way that hockey mask was a coincidental design, but I was in no shape to chase him. I leaned against the wall and waited until the dizziness passed. I had one last thing to do before leaving.

I returned to the courtyard and entered the warehouse. The trail of destruction told me where the Sound Bandit found the money and the ledger. I rummaged through the pile of documents to find the indentured servant contracts. I channeled my natural heat magic and burned them down.

The heavy steps of guard squads reached my ears.

I pulled up my cloak and returned to the prison. The people there were startled by my presence, but as soon as I started to cut down their shackles, they calmed down.

"You are free to go," I said, taking the Light Stone back and hiding it in my cloak.

"Who should we thank for this blessing?" the elder man asked.

Anyone but me.

"The Sound Bandit."

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