Inside the fortified office of the Cardinal Wolves, Guilon was in a state of full-blown, sweating panic.
"What is happening?!" he hissed, pacing the length of the room. "The Royal Seal... it was supposed to be a hidden weapon! A dagger in the sleeve to make the low nobles and merchants bow down to me!"
He slammed his hand against the wall. The streets somehow knew. Not only did they know, they had exaggerated it. The rumor wasn't that he had a stolen ledger; the rumor was that he was the Prince's partner. And now, because of that spotlight, the Watchers were moving.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing his racing heart to slow. 'Think, Guilon. Think.'
He could salvage this. The "gift" from Misela—the intel on the Watcher movements—had proven useful. He had managed to move most of his high-value supplies out of the secondary posts before the raids began. That was a win.
And then, a thought struck him, piercing through the panic like a ray of sunlight. The silver lining. The Watchers weren't just targeting him. They were tearing through the Azure Sharkfins and the other gangs right now. They were stripping his enemies of their weapons and their spice.
"They are clearing the board... for me," he whispered, a manic smile starting to form.
But the rumor... he had to manage the rumor. It was a double-edged sword. It brought heat, yes, but it also brought weight.
"It's not even a seal of cooperation," he muttered to himself, looking at the coded shipping manifest with the gold embossment. "It's just a piece of paper." But the narrative on the street had been led on by someone, blown out of proportion.
'Goddamn it.' Sooner or later, the lie would break, or he would be caught. He needed to leverage this piece of paper now.
From the direction of the docks, a distant, muffled boom echoed. An explosion. The Azure Sharkfin territory was burning.
Guilon walked to the window, his smile widening into something predatory and delusional. "This is it."
Tomorrow would be the day. The Watchers would leave the Sharkfins broken and disarmed. He still had his weapons. He still had his men.
"I will use the seal," he decided. "I will go to the Merchant Guild in the morning. I will show them this paper. I will leverage the 'Prince's Trust' for a massive loan. Gold to pay the men, gold to buy loyalty."
Then, at night, they would march.
"Why should I fear?" he laughed softly, clutching the ledger to his chest like a holy text. "Why should I not seize this moment? After all... God favored me enough to drop this piece of paper right at my feet. It's a sign."
…
High above, on the roof of the Hao Pavilion, Ren knelt before Sebas.
"Guilon took the bait, Master," the young assassin reported. "He believes the raids are a divine opportunity. He is mobilizing for a push tomorrow night."
"Good," Sebas said, his voice calm. "Tomorrow will be a bloodbath. Go back to the others in the underground. Continue your training."
"Yes, Master." Ren vanished into the shadows.
In the room behind Sebas, Amanzio stood up from the chair he had been slouched in and stretched his back until it cracked. "Aaaahhh," he groaned. "So, this is where I stop, right? I can't act like a dog for one more second around that man."
"Funny," Misela purred from her desk, not looking up from her paperwork. "For a dog to say that."
Amanzio shot her a glare. "Watch it, bitch."
"You want me to wash that foul mouth of yours out with soap?" she retorted, smiling sweetly.
"It will be enough for now," Sebas interrupted, turning from the window. "Guilon will be too focused on his 'destiny' to notice your absence immediately. It is better for you to go into hiding until the dust settles."
Amanzio nodded. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, shifting his weight. He cleared his throat, steeling himself. "Master Sebas... can I... can I train with the kids?"
Sebas tilted his head slightly, the veil obscuring his expression. "Train?"
"I just..." Amanzio scratched the back of his neck, looking away. "I don't want to be left out. And... seeing those kids jumping around the rooftops, moving like shadows... it kinda makes me jealous. I used to think I was tough, but they're on another level."
Sebas looked at the former gang boss, seeing the genuine desire for strength in his eyes. "You can," he said. "Go to the underground training hall. Ask Kai about the 'First Method' of breathing."
Amanzio's face lit up. He bowed deeply, a gesture that was becoming less forced and more natural with every passing day. "Thank you, Master."
He turned and left the room, a new spring in his step, heading down to learn how to be dangerous again.
…
The next morning, the rumors began to fly. It was a whisper at first, a murmur in the dockyards, a quiet word passed between a waitress and a patron, a nod from a coachman to his passenger.
"Did you hear? The Watchers... they actually did something."
"Cleaned out the Sharkfins' warehouse. Took everything."
"About time someone put those thugs in check."
One would wonder where these rumors started, but no one could ever track them down. They didn't come from newspapers or official proclamations. They came from the overlooked, the invisible people of Evercrest—the vast, sprawling network of the Hao Pavilion. The beggars, the delivery boys, the street sweepers—they were the ones spreading the news, seeding the city with a narrative of hope and Watcher competence. The citizens of Evercrest, tired of living in fear, drank it up. For the first time in years, there was a genuine sense of relief in the air. Finally, someone was keeping the gangs in check.
Céline arrived at the station, feeling the change in the atmosphere. The officers she passed didn't look defeated; they looked... proud.
"Good morning, Captain," an officer said, snapping a crisp salute.
"Good morning," she replied, slightly taken aback.
She reached her office and opened the door, only to freeze in shock. Sitting on her office couch, looking perfectly at home, was Chief Thorne Black himself.
"Chief?" she gasped.
Black looked up from a file he was reading, a disarming, warm smile on his usually severe face. "Céline. Good morning."
Céline hurried to place her bag on her desk, her mind racing. "Would you like some coffee, sir?"
"No thanks," Black said with a chuckle. "You know me, I like tea. Hahahaha! Ironic, since I can't make a 'black coffee' joke with my name. Hahahaha!"
Céline sat down, her posture rigid. "Is this about... the Royal Seal?"
Black's expression grew serious for a moment. "It complicates things," he admitted. "Just see me here as a liaison between the Royal Court and the Patrol." He then stood up, smoothing his pristine uniform. "I heard there is a good café around here. I think I'll stop by."
He walked to the door, then stopped, his hand on the knob. He turned back to her, his eyes devoid of humor. "I'll handle the Royal Seal issue, Céline. Remember: serve and protect. We are not executioners."
He then left, closing the door softly behind him.
Céline exhaled a long, shuddering breath of relief. He was handling the politics. That left her with the tactical nightmare. The main chokehold was tonight. Erwin had predicted the Cardinal Wolves would make their move in desperation. 'Let's just hope he is right,' she thought.
…
At Café LeBlanc, Soma was handling the tail end of the breakfast rush. The bell chimed, and a man walked in. He had a severe face and cold eyes, but as he looked around the warm, inviting space, his expression softened.
"Welcome," Soma called out.
The man smiled warmly. "Is this the café where the chef is a Master Chef?"
"That's him," Zero said from behind the bar. "Annoyingly so."
The man took a seat at the bar. He looked at Zero. "You're the demon owner, right?"
The café went tense. The regulars stopped eating, their eyes flicking to the stranger.
The man laughed, a disarming, easy sound. "Hahahaha! Sorry, I don't have any issue with it. I just wanted to make sure. They say your drinks are some of the best in the city."
The tension evaporated. Zero smiled. "Well, of course. What can I get for you, sir?"
"Black," the man said.
"Black coffee it is," Zero said, reaching for a mug.
"No, no," the man corrected quickly. "Sorry, that's my name. Black. But I would like a sweet drink, please. Possibly tea."
Zero paused. He kept his face perfectly neutral. "Well, Mr. Black, I sure can. Are you... adventurous?"
Thorne Black smiled, leaning in. "Ohh? Tell me more."
"Let me introduce you," Zero said, pulling out a shaker and a container of dark, chewy pearls, "to Boba."
…
Duke Orion Evercrest paced the length of his opulent office, his boots thudding rhythmically against the thick carpet. He looked like a man whose world was slowly crumbling around the edges.
"Calm down, sir," his Right Hand, a composed man with greying temples, said from the corner. "Chief Black is likely just surveying the layout. He is thorough."
"Haaaa!" Orion let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "How could I lose a coded letter? And out of all of them, it's the 'official' letter! The one with the real seal!"
A sharp knock echoed from the heavy oak doors. A servant entered, bowing low. "Sir, Chief Thorne Black is here."
Orion straightened his tunic, composing his face into a mask of authority. "Come in."
Thorne Black entered. The severe, cold-eyed Chief of Police looked jarringly out of place holding a plastic cup filled with a milky tea and dark, chewy pearls. He took a loud, deliberate slurp from the straw.
"You got good territory here, Duke," Black said, swallowing a pearl. He offered a polite, if slightly casual, bow.
"Raise," Orion said.
Thorne stood up straight, the disarming smile back on his face, the cup still in his hand.
"Please," Orion said, cutting to the chase, "tell me your Watchers have more information about the letter."
Black swirled his drink. "Information," he said, his tone shifting, "is exactly what I am suspicious about."
"What?"
Orion's Right Hand stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the Duke's arm before addressing Black. "Chief, you must understand the gravity. Even though it is just a piece of paper, if the Quetzal Empire or, worse, the Argent Theocracy were to buy it from these criminals... it could jeopardize the Kingdom's secret codex. The encryption protocols—"
Black held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. He looked back at the advisor, his eyes suddenly devoid of any warmth. "Please," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You don't need to lie to me to make me find that paper. And frankly, I don't care about the content, nor do I care about your secret codexes."
He took a step forward, the air in the room growing heavy. "I only care that it hurts the people of our kingdom. That is enough motivation for me."
He then turned back to Orion, the disarming smile flipping back on like a switch. "So, you don't need to worry about that. What I am worried about is the vector."
"The vector?" Orion asked.
"How did the criminal underworld know about the Royal Seal on this specific gangster?" Black asked, tapping his cup. "And then, how did the news of the Watchers' successful raids hit the public so fast? It was too organized. Too clean. It's almost as if... there is someone whispering in the streets."
"Does it matter now?" Orion demanded, his patience fraying. "We need to secure the letters!"
"I'll move tomorrow," Black stated calmly. "I need my guys to be ready for the specific pressure point."
"Tomorrow?!" Orion stepped forward, his face flushing. "We need to—"
He was about to demand they strike today, to reject the delay, but his Right Hand gripped his shoulder firmly, shaking his head once. 'Do not command the Chief of Police when he has that look in his eyes.'
Orion swallowed his words, seething silently.
Chief Black didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he just didn't care. He had turned away and was looking out the grand window at the sprawling territory of Evercrest. He took another sip of his boba tea, his gaze scanning the rooftops, the alleys, the flow of the city. He wasn't looking for the gang leader. He was looking for the invisible conductor, the one spreading the information, the one playing a game on his board.
…
In the shroud of night, inside the Animus Hub, the atmosphere was heavy with conspiracy. Erwin and Sebas sat at the round table, the holographic map of Evercrest glowing dimly between them.
"Sebas, we have a problem," Erwin said, his brow furrowed. "I didn't expect Chief Thorne Black to come down here personally. He's a variable we didn't account for."
"Hmmm," Sebas hummed, tapping a finger on the table. "It does seem problematic. A man of his rank usually delegates. His presence implies a personal interest, or perhaps... a suspicion of the narrative."
Just then, Zero's form materialized in the Hub. He looked around at the map and the grim faces. "Hey guys. What are you doing?"
"Planning my official debut," Erwin said, masking his anxiety with a confident smile.
"Debut?" Zero asked, confused. "What do you mean... wait." He looked at the map, at the highlighted territories of the gangs, at the reports of the raids. The realization hit him. "Last night's commotion... the 'drill'... that was you two?"
Erwin nodded slowly. "Yes. It was necessary to set the stage."
"Did anyone die?" Zero asked immediately, his eyes narrowing.
"No Watchers died," Erwin said quickly, technically telling the truth.
"Haaahhh," Zero sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You guys didn't even bother to tell me until now."
"We were about to report to you when we were done," Erwin reasoned. "We didn't want to burden you with the tactical details while you were studying."
"Fine," Zero said, though he didn't look happy about it. "Just... be careful. And don't hurt innocents, okay?" He looked specifically at Sebas, his gaze hard.
Sebas smiled, a picture of loyal obedience. "Of course, Master. No innocents."
Zero lingered for a moment, sensing the tension but unable to place it, then sighed again and dissolved, leaving the Hub.
The moment he was gone, Gellert, who had been sitting in a corner reading a manifested book on magical theory, spoke up without looking from the page.
"You didn't tell him about the eight Watchers who were heavily injured during the 'parade' two nights ago," Gellert noted, his voice dry. "Or the ones currently in critical condition from the riot."
Erwin winced, a look of genuine pain crossing his face. He looked down at his hands. "I know."
Sebas, however, just smiled, his expression unrepentant. "The end justifies the means. To build a kingdom, one must occasionally break a few stones. And sometimes, those stones bleed."
Gellert just turned a page. "Rationalize it however you want. I'm just observing."
Erwin took a deep breath, pushing the guilt down. He had to focus. "We need to make sure I am the one in control of Guilon's arrest," he said, his voice hardening back into that of a commander. "If Chief Black intervenes, or if another squad takes him down, this entire operation loses its political value for me."
"Then we must curate the stage," Sebas said, leaning forward. A dangerous glint appeared in his veiled eyes as he zoomed the map in on the Cardinal Wolves' HQ.
"How about we do it like this..."
**A/N**
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**A/N**