Lower Ashmark hadn't changed—that was Dust's first impression as the Sea Witch navigated into the grimy harbor he'd fled three years earlier. The same decrepit warehouses lined the waterfront, the same oily smoke rose from countless chimneys, and the same air of desperate enterprise permeated everything like a miasma.
But as Captain Aldrich had predicted, Dust himself had changed enough to see the city with entirely new eyes.
"The corruption's more systematic than I remembered," he told Elena in a letter he wrote that first evening, staying in a modest inn in the merchant quarter rather than returning to the slums where he'd grown up. "It's not just individual criminals taking advantage of opportunities—it's an entire economic system designed to extract wealth from the desperate while keeping them too busy surviving to organize resistance."
From his Academy training, he could now see patterns that had been invisible to his younger self. The way legitimate businesses were taxed and regulated out of existence while criminal enterprises operated openly. The manner in which city officials created artificial scarcities that drove up prices while enriching their associates. The systematic exclusion of certain populations from education, legal protection, and economic opportunity.
"It's brilliant, in a horrifying way," he continued in his letter. "Every component reinforces every other component. People can't improve their circumstances through legitimate means, so they turn to illegitimate ones, which justifies harsh enforcement that keeps them under control while generating revenue for corrupt officials."
His first week was spent simply observing, using techniques learned in Professor Shadowhawk's classes to map the actual power structures that governed Lower Ashmark. The official city council was largely ceremonial—real decisions were made through informal networks connecting crime bosses, corrupt officials, and legitimate businessmen who'd learned to profit from the chaos.
Marcus Garrett was still a significant figure in these networks, though his operations had evolved considerably. Where once he'd been a simple crime boss controlling territory through violence, he'd now developed into what could almost be called a businessman—albeit one whose business model depended on maintaining the conditions that made his services necessary.
"He's running protection rackets, illegal lending, and what amounts to a private court system for resolving disputes that people can't take to legitimate authorities," Dust wrote to Elena. "But he's also providing services that people actually need—security, credit, and justice of a sort. The problem isn't that he's purely evil, but that he's filling gaps created by the failure of legitimate institutions."
Understanding Garrett's evolved role was crucial because it revealed why previous attempts at reform had failed. Simply removing corrupt officials or crime bosses created power vacuums that were quickly filled by equally problematic replacements. Sustainable change would require creating legitimate alternatives to the services that criminal networks provided.
Dust's first direct intervention came when he witnessed a situation that reminded him painfully of his own earlier desperation. A young woman, perhaps sixteen, was being pressured by one of Garrett's lieutenants to accept a loan at terms that would effectively make her an indentured servant.
"I can pay it back," the girl insisted, though her voice carried the desperation of someone who knew she had no real choice. "I just need enough to buy medicine for my mother."
"Course you can, sweetheart," the lieutenant replied with false friendliness. "Just sign here, and don't worry about reading the details. We're very reasonable about payment terms."
Dust intervened with the same kind of calculated risk-taking that had kept him alive on the streets, but informed now by three years of strategic education.
"Mira Blackwood," he said, approaching the girl with a confident smile. "Your aunt Elena sent me to find you. She heard about your mother's illness and wanted to help."
The lie was smooth and believable because it contained enough truth to be verified if necessary. Dust had researched common family names in the district and chosen one that would be difficult to fact-check immediately. The mention of an aunt provided a plausible explanation for outside assistance while suggesting family connections that might complicate any retaliation.
"I... I don't have an aunt Elena," the girl said, confusion evident in her voice.
"Your mother's cousin from Northport," Dust replied smoothly. "She married a merchant named Ravencrest. Said you might not remember her, but family is family." He turned to the lieutenant with the kind of polite authority that his Academy training had taught him to project. "I hope there's no problem with family helping family?"
The lieutenant hesitated, clearly uncertain how to handle this unexpected development. The girl represented potential profit, but challenging someone with obvious resources and connections could bring unwanted complications.
"No problem at all," the lieutenant said finally, stepping back with obvious reluctance. "Just looking out for the neighborhood, you understand."
"Of course. Very commendable." Dust handed the girl a small leather purse containing enough silver to buy medicine and food for several weeks. "Your aunt wanted to make sure you had what you needed. No need to repay it—that's what family is for."
After the lieutenant left, the girl stared at Dust with a mixture of gratitude and confusion.
"Why did you help me?" she asked. "And who are you really?"
"Someone who was in a similar situation once," Dust replied honestly. "As for who I am—let's just say I'm working to make sure people in this neighborhood have better options than loan sharks and protection rackets."
"Are you with the city government? Some kind of reformer?"
"Something like that. But more importantly, I'm from here originally. I understand how things work, and I have resources that can make a difference if they're used carefully."
The girl—whose real name turned out to be Sarah Millwright—became Dust's first real contact in the community he was trying to help. Through her, he learned about the daily realities that statistics and official reports couldn't capture. The families choosing between rent and food, the children working dangerous jobs because their parents couldn't find legitimate employment, the small businesses closing because they couldn't compete with operations that didn't pay taxes or follow safety regulations.
"Most people aren't looking for charity," Sarah explained as she showed him through her neighborhood. "They want to work, to build something better for their families. But the system's set up so that playing by the rules means losing to people who don't."
"What would it take to change that?" Dust asked.
"Honest enforcement of existing laws would be a start. But that requires officials who can't be bought, and most of them are already owned by people like Marcus Garrett." Sarah paused outside a boarded-up shop. "This used to be a bakery—best bread in the district. But the owner couldn't afford the 'licensing fees' that kept getting invented, and he couldn't compete with places that were selling stolen flour."
"What happened to the baker?"
"Works for one of Garrett's operations now. Says it's better than starving, but you can see it's killing him inside."
That evening, Dust sent a detailed report to Master Blackthorne and wrote another long letter to Elena. The scope of the problem was even more complex than he'd anticipated, but his Academy training was proving invaluable for understanding the systematic nature of the corruption and identifying potential intervention points.
"The key insight," he wrote to Elena, "is that Garrett and others like him aren't just criminals—they're filling institutional roles that legitimate government should be performing. They provide security, settle disputes, offer credit, and maintain order. The fact that they do it through violence and exploitation doesn't change the reality that people need these services."
"So reform isn't just about removing bad actors—it's about creating legitimate alternatives that can provide the same services more ethically and effectively. That's a much bigger challenge, but also a more sustainable solution."
As his first week in Lower Ashmark concluded, Dust felt both daunted and energized by the work ahead. The problems were enormous and deeply entrenched, but they weren't incomprehensible. His Academy education provided frameworks for understanding them, and Elena's partnership offered resources for addressing them systematically.
The question was no longer whether change was possible, but whether he could create it quickly enough to help people like Sarah and her family before desperation forced them into the same destructive choices that had nearly destroyed his own life years earlier.