We returned at last to my estate in Demeterra's realm, though the halls felt emptier than usual. Perhaps it was just the mood clinging to me. My thoughts still churned with bitterness toward the Domini who had tried to swindle us, dressing lies as opportunities and half-truths as contracts. Even in victory, I hated feeling like someone else's pawn.

The first thing I did was retreat to my study and check for new assignments. As a Walker, I had expected some kind of directive waiting—orders from the Concord, or at the very least a notification from the neutral board. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing. A silence that felt too convenient.

So I turned instead to my secondary duties, those tied not to my seal as a Walker but to the weight of the Sanguine Spear. That one never lacked for work.

The list scrolled across my gloss, a litany of noble names entwined with rumors, shadows, and crimes:

Investigate Lord Dullgave – Suspected Glimmer Smuggler.

A petty lord from the western fringes, but one with uncanny access to

Glimmer

. The powder was made by grinding down the crystalline horn of the arctic narwhal, a rare beast hunted nearly to extinction. Inhaled, the substance heightened mana sensitivity to rapturous levels, but also frayed the mind, rotted the gums, and left users addicted until death. Smuggling Glimmer was more than a crime—it was an industry of enslavement, creating desperate dependents who would sell everything, even themselves, for another breath. Note - Glimmer itself isn't illegal. The crime is the smuggling of it, and possible production.

Investigate Margrave Ballai – Suspected Trafficker.

A border magnate whose caravans conveniently vanished in wastelands, only for "indentured servants" to appear in rival markets months later. His coin flowed too easily, too quickly, and the trail of broken lives led back to him again and again.

Investigate Duchess Avi – Suspected Trafficker.

Her reputation in court was pristine, her soirées the envy of northern Bast. But whispers spoke of shipments tucked into her wine trade, passengers crated like goods. The Duchy's coffers were flush beyond reason, and no one at her table ever asked why.

Investigate Count Veylor – Suspected Necrotheurge.

The man had lost his wife a decade ago, yet rumors claimed she still walked his gardens, her skin waxen, her eyes unblinking. More troubling were reports of missing servants and drained crypts across his lands.

Investigate Baroness Myrrhane – Suspected Usurer and Saboteur.

Ostensibly a patron of artisans, she loaned gold to struggling craftsmen, then arranged accidents when they couldn't repay. Their techniques, their secrets, their very apprentices vanished into her employ.

Investigate Prince-Consort Halbrecht – Suspected Treason.

A minor royal in a backwater province, yet his correspondence with Otherrealm envoys had been intercepted twice. The seal had been scrubbed, the letters burned, but the stench of collusion lingered.

Investigate Lady Inwe – Suspected Orchestrator of Famine.

The harvests of three villages failed under her control, though surrounding baronies thrived. Rumor claimed she hoarded grain in underground vaults, waiting for desperation to drive the populace into her debt.

"Alrighty," I said, tossing the gloss list onto the table between us. The names shimmered faintly in the air, like a black ledger written in pale fire. "I just checked the first shipment of duties here in Bast. Any of these seem good for you all? Well… not good." I sighed. "But worth our time."

Fractal leaned forward immediately, her brow creased. "We have two suspected traffickers, a suspected traitor, and—" she squinted at the scrolling text, "—someone who may have intentionally caused famine? Why would anyone do that last one? What would a lord or lady even gain? It just hurts their own taxes." Her voice carried a kind of childish outrage, the inability to reconcile cruelty with practicality.

"It hurts taxes, sure," Sven cut in, lounging back and drumming his fingers on the table's edge, "and it bruises their reputation with anyone in higher court who still cares about appearances. But short-term? It cements power. Hungry people do desperate things. Hungry people sell themselves for grain, bend the knee to whoever feeds them. Control food, you control bodies. That's the oldest trick in any empire's book." His lips twisted into a half-grin. "Besides, Lady Inwe isn't the worst of the names here. She's just predictable. Famine's a slow knife. There are sharper blades on that list."

Fallias, who had been standing in the corner with her arms crossed, finally spoke, her tone cutting through the noise. "Predictable or not, starving a populace is a direct threat to stability. Entire regions can collapse that way. It's not just about people selling themselves—it's about rebellions, migrations, border wars. Famine spreads rot outward. If Inwe is truly guilty, leaving her unchecked is a seed that will grow into something catastrophic."

Wallace scratched at the strap of his shield harness, frowning. "I agree with Fallias. Famine's not just evil—it's destabilizing. And destabilization puts strain on Walkers too, when they're inevitably called to 'fix' the border skirmishes or mop up riots. But…" he shook his head, "she's not the worst name here. Not by a long shot. What about this Margrave Ballai? Trafficking, caravans vanishing, 'indentured servants' popping up like weeds in the slums. You can trace that pain directly. That's not theory. That's lives stolen."

Fractal shifted uncomfortably. "Two traffickers," she corrected softly. "Ballai and Avi both. I… I don't understand. Why is that even allowed? Why don't people stop them?"

"Because they're rich," Cordelia said flatly, her eyes locked on the flickering names. She hadn't looked up once. "Because coin buries bodies. Because nobles look after their own, and if one duchess is pocketing profits from flesh-trade, another duke is quietly skimming a share. Trafficking isn't a crime because it's hidden—it's not prosecuted because it's too lucrative." Her jaw clenched. "If you want to make enemies fast, Alex, go after Avi. She's entrenched, well-liked, and powerful. The minute you accuse her, every vulture in court will start circling you instead."

I exhaled through my nose. "Noted."

"Glimmer smuggling," V said lazily, twirling salt crystals between his fingers until they snapped and reformed into jagged shapes. "That's my pick. Lord Dullgave. You all know Glimmer? No? It's powdered crystal narwhal horn, smoked like incense or inhaled like snuff. Gives you mana sensitivity sharp enough to make a dullard feel like a prodigy—for about an hour. Then it rots you. Gums, stomach, eventually the brain. Addictive as sin, and expensive enough to keep the desperate clawing for more."

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"That's disgusting," Fractal muttered.

"True. But think tactically." V's grin was sharp, cruel. "A trafficker hurts the people he sells. A famine-monger hurts a region. A necrotheurge scares villagers. But Glimmer? It corrodes Walkers. Because addicts end up trying to fight with it, to force more out of their bodies, and then you get a liability in the field. Dullgave isn't just a smuggler—he's undermining the foundations of Demeterra's strength. Cut him down, and you save us headaches later."

"Necromancy, though," I said, leaning forward. "Count Veylor. That one I almost understand."

"Understand?" Fallias's voice sharpened.

I nodded grimly. "Who hasn't heard the story? Man loses his wife, goes mad, raises her again. It's not crime until it turns ugly. Until she stops being herself, starts needing blood. It's tragedy before it's crime. But it doesn't make him innocent. It just… makes him human."

"Human or not, raising corpses that feed on the living is abomination." Wallace's voice was stone. "I don't care how sad his story is. If the rumors are true, he deserves the spear."

Ten had been quiet until now, swinging her shackled ankles idly beneath the chair, her voice slow and rough. "You're all missing the loudest name here." Her eyes tracked to the last entry on the list. "Prince-Consort Halbrecht. Treason. Otherrealm correspondence. That's not personal greed. That's selling out Demeterra itself. You think famine's bad? You think smuggling's bad? Imagine opening a Gate from inside the palace. Imagine a warlord stepping through. That's the endgame if you ignore this one."

The table went still.

She wasn't wrong.

I rubbed my temples, staring at the shifting names. Each one a plague dressed in silk. "So that's it. We've got famine, trafficking, drugs, necromancy, and treason. No easy pick."

"No easy pick," Cordelia echoed softly.

V cracked a smile. "Well, boss. You asked for suggestions. We've given them. Who do you want to bleed first?"

The names on the list pulsed faintly, as though waiting for judgment. My eyes flicked between them, weighing consequences against risk.

"Alright," I said slowly, voice heavier than I meant it to be, "let's cut through it. Of them all, two stand out as immediate priorities: Dullgave and Halbrecht. The rest are—evil, yes—but not immediate fires. We can't fight on ten fronts. We need to choose the wound that bleeds fastest."

"Halbrecht," Ten said instantly, her shackled feet tapping against the floor in a dull rhythm. "Treason trumps everything. He's royalty by marriage. If the rumors are true and he's corresponding with Otherrealms, that's rot at the very heart of Bast. Let that fester, and you don't just get famine or smuggling—you get war. You get invasion."

Wallace grunted in agreement, folding his arms over his chest. "She's right. Treason is a fracture that doesn't heal. Even suspicion of it is dangerous. If he is innocent, his name needs cleared. If guilty, he must be ended. Anything less is negligence."

V chuckled low, twirling his salt into little shapes before crushing them to dust. "You two always love the loud, dramatic choices. Treason is flashy, sure, but flashy is exactly why it's a trap. Think. Halbrecht is protected. He's surrounded by guards, allies, political insulation. Even sniffing near him makes us targets. You want to start by getting gutted at court, be my guest. But the smarter play? Dullgave. Glimmer kills slowly, sure, but it's spreading now. It rots Walkers, soldiers, anyone dumb enough to take it. Remove him, and you cut off poison at the source."

Cordelia finally looked up from the table, her mask of composure slipping just slightly. "V isn't wrong. Accusing the Prince-Consort, even investigating him, is a declaration of war against the court itself. You'd be challenging entrenched nobles with far deeper claws than we have. And we're new here, Alex. Walkers or not, our foundation in Bast is fragile. Dullgave is a cleaner entry point. He's detestable, but less protected. Strike him down and we show strength without painting a target the size of the moon on your back."

Fractal fidgeted, twisting a lock of her hair. "But if Halbrecht really is talking to Otherrealms… if he's planning something…" She bit her lip. "Can we afford to ignore it just because it's hard? What if waiting means we're too late?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" I murmured.

Fallias's arms were still crossed, her gaze burning into me. "Alex. Strategy is one thing, but think like a predator. Which prey weakens the herd more? Dullgave preys on the weak, yes, but he's not destabilizing the system itself. Halbrecht—if guilty—invites wolves to the door. One weakens the body. The other cuts its throat."

"And yet," V interjected, "if you go for the throat and miss, the body thrashes and tears you apart. You'll be branded a traitor yourself before you even swing. You can't take Halbrecht first. Not unless you've already proven yourself untouchable."

I leaned back, exhaling slowly. They were all right. Every argument had teeth.

"Let's talk risk," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Dullgave is reachable. His crimes are tangible. Glimmer smuggling leaves trails—addicts, broken bodies, coin exchanges. Easy to expose. If we catch him, we get a victory we can point to. A victory that makes us credible."

"And Halbrecht?" Wallace pressed.

I looked down at the glowing name, the letters jagged and sharp, as though they knew they were poison. "Halbrecht is different. If he's guilty, he's the single greatest threat on this list. But if we move too soon, without evidence, without strength, we don't just lose—we burn. The court turns on us. And I…" I hesitated, the truth bitter on my tongue, "I don't know if we can survive that yet."

"Then what's your instinct?" Cordelia asked quietly. Her eyes searched mine, more intimate than the others, like she was weighing whether I'd crack under the pressure.

"My instinct?" I whispered. "My instinct says to tear Dullgave down first. Not because he's the worst, but because he's the weakest. He's the stone we can move, to prove we belong here. Then… then we aim higher."

Ten scowled, chains clinking. "So you'd let treason slide? You'd let him plot, invite gods-know-what into Demeterra's domain, while we chase a glorified peddler of powdered horn?"

"Not slide," I said firmly. "Stalk. Watch. Wait. Treason doesn't vanish in a week. If Halbrecht's guilty, his correspondence will only deepen, his trail more obvious. If we're clever, we can catch him in the act. But Dullgave? He can vanish into smoke the moment he suspects we're onto him. He's low enough that he'll run if spooked."

V smirked. "There's the voice of reason."

Wallace still didn't look convinced. "I hear you, Alex. But remember this: delay is danger. If you gamble that time is on our side, you'd best be ready to lose if it isn't."

"I know." I rubbed my temple. "Trust me, I know."

Fractal spoke again, softer this time. "If you think Dullgave first, then… I'll trust you. But promise me we won't ignore Halbrecht. Promise me we'll circle back."

I met her gaze. "I promise."

Fallias's frown lingered. "Very well. But if we're going to strike at Dullgave, we do it quickly. Quietly. Smugglers move fast, and I won't waste effort chasing ghosts."

Cordelia nodded, her porcelain mask sliding back into place. "Then it's decided. Lord Dullgave first. The Glimmer smuggler falls."

The list shimmered faintly, the names glowing in silent judgment. I felt the weight of choice settle across my shoulders like a mantle. One step onto the board, a dozen more waiting.

And in the back of my mind, I could almost hear Gin's voice, taunting. Pick carefully, little Walker. The wrong enemy will not just kill you—they'll make you irrelevant.

I clenched my fists. "Alright then. Dullgave first. We cut the poison from the veins of Bast. And after that…" My eyes lingered on Halbrecht's jagged name, cold and sharp. "After that, we go for the heart."

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