The early afternoon grew warm, with a pleasant coolness in the air that starkly contrasted with the dark events unfolding less than a mile away at Belmora Bridge.

At last, Justin and Lila approached the Golden Aurelius, glancing over their shoulders every few seconds. The once-inviting inn now felt hollow, its charm stripped away by everything they had learned. The Aurelian Tower, which had impressed Justin upon his arrival, now cast a shadow over the plaza, where, near the central fountain, Atlas stood sentinel beside twelve anxious, bedraggled women. Passersby gave them space; whether out of discomfort or respect, it was clear that Atlas's mere presence discouraged casual gawking. One curious man ventured too close, prompting Atlas to rise with a threatening whir, lightning racing along his carapace. The man quickly retreated.

"Is something wrong?" Justin asked as he approached.

Lady Myrelle stepped forward, her stature regal. "The innkeeper wouldn't let us in. She said we couldn't be confirmed as your guests."

Justin winced. "Of course. Damn it, that's on me."

"You couldn't have known," Lila said.

"Even so." Justin turned to Atlas. "You stayed with them the whole time?"

Atlas emitted a low, soft beep. It was almost apologetic.

"You did well."

Before Justin could decide what to do next, a whistle pierced the plaza. "Oi! You there!"

A pair of city guards approached. One was a Level 7 Warrior, the other was younger and unclassed. The older guard appeared annoyed and eager for a confrontation, with a short sword sheathed at his waist. Justin suppressed the urge to sigh.

"You the one responsible for this golem?" he asked, nodding at Atlas.

"He's not a golem. He's a construct."

"Same difference. Whatever it is, you'll need to present your Companion Registration Permit. We've had some complaints."

Justin blinked. "My what? He's just doing his job!"

"Companions over three feet tall require registration under the Belmoran Conveyance Act. If you don't have one, you're breaking the law."

Justin's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "Conveyance? That implies he's transportation, which he's not. I know constructs are sometimes used to carry things around, but Atlas is for defense."

"Doesn't matter. Anything that moves under ethereal power and isn't alive qualifies. Normally, this is a one-crown fine."

Seeing an opportunity, Justin flashed a tired, disarming smile and tapped into his Charisma.

"Officer, I appreciate the law, but Atlas here just helped rescue these women from a bad situation in the Floating Market. I can't go into too many details, but he's not a dangerous automaton. He's a hero."

To Atlas's credit, he shifted on his spindly legs and struck a heroic pose.

The guard narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Lady Myrelle spoke. "It's true, guardsman. We thank you for your diligence in keeping the peace, but without Atlas, we would be in dire straits."

At last, the guard's shoulders relaxed slightly. "I have no idea why I'm believing such an insane story, but you two seem all right. I can tell you're new here, and now that I think about it, you do get a seven-day grace period upon moving to the city. You need to head to the Office of Arcane Vehicles at City Hall to get your paperwork; otherwise, you'll be fined and your construct will be impounded. As it stands, you can't just have an unpermitted golem—I mean, construct—walking the streets. It's dangerous for everyone."

Justin resisted the urge to push back. "Understood." He turned to Atlas. "Sorry, my friend. Just a temporary break."

He absorbed the construct into his ring. Atlas gave a sorrowful chirp before vanishing in a flash of light.

The guard nodded. "Be well, citizens."

He went on his way.

Justin let out a breath. He supposed that being in a big city meant falling prey to its bureaucracy.

Lady Myrelle stepped closer. "If you'd like, I can use my influence to expedite the permit process. Once all this is over."

Justin hesitated. "Maybe, but we should focus on what's in front of us for now."

It would be useful, but for now, he hesitated to take her up on her offer. Something about Lady Myrelle felt off. A Level 15 Socialite getting kidnapped and trafficked wasn't normal. Some of the other women shifted uneasily, glancing at the inn and the guards. He had intended to ensure their safety and make sure each of them had a secure place to go. But he also realized he couldn't force them to do anything.

Justin faced the women at large. "No one's holding you. If you have somewhere safe to go, do it. If not, we'll help arrange something. There will be a free meal for anyone who joins us in the inn."

After a moment of silence, half of them quietly excused themselves, despite the promise of food, leaving six, including Lady Myrelle and the Level 6 Enchanter, whose name he still didn't know.

Before he could say more, a familiar voice rang out.

"What in Arion's name is happening here?"

Alistair strode toward them, his eyes sweeping the scene. His expression was one of surprise and confusion.

"Very long story," Justin said.

"Long story? Lad, it's been three hours, and you've already caught the attention of the entire square and the Queensguard! I saw the guards walking away. What happened?"

"It gets worse," Lila said. "Much worse."

Lady Myrelle stepped up, giving a refined curtsy despite her state. "I am Lady Myrelle of House Corrin. Sir Alistair, I can sense your noble bearing, so you had the right of it. We must get inside before any further explanations." She cast a nervous glance toward the Aurelian Tower.

Alistair paused to consider this as he observed Lady Myrelle closely. Justin also noted her expression, a perfect blend of eagerness to help and composure under pressure. As a Level 15 Socialite, she would be an expert at presenting the right image in nearly all situations.

"Very well," Alistair replied.

At a nod from Myrelle, the rest of the women followed them into the inn. They moved quickly to the front desk, where the same auburn-haired lady from this morning watched them approach with wide hazel eyes. It had already been a long day.

"They're with us," Justin said.

"Of course, sir," she said. "Forgive me for our earlier refusal to allow them in. It's our policy."

Justin didn't argue. He was sure it had nothing to do with their rough or disheveled appearance.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Do you have a meeting room down here we can use?"

"We do," the innkeeper replied. "Two silvers, and it's yours for the day. Five, and we'll bring a full meal for everyone."

"Please do," Alistair said, producing the coins.

"And access to your bathing facilities," Justin added.

"Of course, sir," the innkeeper said, her tone a bit annoyed.

Justin nodded. He would need to arrange for new clothing as well, but that could wait. For now, the purchase of the food and baths was enough to brighten the women's spirits. For the first time, many seemed to realize that Justin might not be a bad guy, though caution still lingered in their expressions. Justin didn't blame them.

"This way," the innkeeper said.

They were led to a private dining room filled with the warm light of a small chandelier, featuring a long polished table surrounded by plush chairs. Curtains drawn tight ensured their privacy.

Once the doors were closed, Alistair turned to Justin and then to the women. "So, what is all this?"

Justin explained everything that had happened, from visiting the mapmaker's shop to uncovering the trafficking operation down in the Floating Market. Alistair listened intently, his expression darkening as the details unfolded, especially when Justin mentioned the possibility of Aurelian involvement.

Justin observed Alistair's reaction. He had expected disappointment but was surprised to see genuine anger. The tension in the room felt like it might explode, and even Lila was on edge.

At last, Alistair spoke, composed but clearly struggling to maintain control.

"I understand your motivations, Justin. These are complicated matters. While I'm grateful to the Six that these women have been freed, I'm afraid something much worse may have been unleashed. It's our first day, and we can no longer stay here, but that can't be helped for now. You've saved these women, yes, but you are now responsible for them."

"There were twenty at first," Justin said quietly. "Most chose to go their own way. But for those who remain, I want to ensure they are not only taken care of but also set on a decent path."

"That is... noble of you. However, due to your actions, we must get to the bottom of this. The fact that the gods have designated this as a Quest may at least suggest that you are on the right path, even if it complicates our own situation." Alistair's gaze fell upon the first woman, a young girl of no more than twenty with pale features and wide eyes. Justin had not heard a single word from her during this entire time.

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"We'll begin with your name," Alistair said. "Where are you from?"

The woman started to cry, speaking in a foreign language. Justin hadn't even considered that there might be communication barriers.

"Daelorian," Lila said.

Lila spoke to the woman in a kind voice. After a bit of back and forth, she nodded and relayed the message. "Her name is Rita. She's from a fishing village south of Almavira originally. She has been bought and sold multiple times over the last few years, from what I gather. She... asks us for mercy."

Justin's throat tightened. "Well, let's get her back to her town, then."

Lila said a few more words before shaking her head. "Her family is dead, killed by coastal raiders from Atelinar. It's a sad reality in that area. It's about a thousand miles away, on the other side of the continent. The Izmirans tend to do nothing to curb piracy in those waters."

Justin swallowed. No simple solution, then. But it was clear to guess the trajectory of her sad life based on that alone.

They went down the line, questioning three more women.

The second was Tamsin, a wiry woman in her late thirties with a missing front tooth. She had once been a caravan cook.

"I've had worse days," she said. "Not many, but some. I'm from Gaerlon, near the border. I was taken when our camp was raided. I've been through three different hands since then. If I can find work, I'll be fine. Never really had what you'd call a proper home, but I always land on my feet."

Justin nodded. He admired her perseverance and sunny attitude, but he sensed it was a mask for deep sorrow.

The third woman, named Zira, spoke with poise, though her heavy accent was unfamiliar to Justin. In her mid-twenties, with bronze skin and hazel eyes, she was clearly educated but lacked social standing. She had worked in a scribe's office in Sunspire until she was falsely accused of theft and subsequently sold to slavers to cover her alleged 'debt.' She wasn't seeking rescue, only justice.

Judging by her demeanor, Zira was not planning to stay any longer than necessary. She viewed Justin merely as a means to secure the funds needed for passage back home. Justin realized that after that, none of those who had sold her would be safe.

The fourth woman was Ilsa, a young woman with wild dark hair and scabs on her knuckles. She spoke little, her eyes darting around the room. From what they gathered, she had grown up an orphan in the gutters of Cresthaven, a city in Delonia about three hundred miles to the south. Her silence spoke more of trauma than defiance.

Among these four women were a variety of stories, each from different corners of the world. Returning them all safely would be a difficult task, and in the case of Tamsin, she didn't seem interested in going back to Gaerlon, while Rita's home didn't seem safe for her to return to.

Before they could question the Enchanter or Lady Myrelle herself, the food arrived, carried by some kitchen workers. The mood shifted instantly as platters of roast chicken, spiced lentils, honeyed carrots, soft bread rolls, and mushroom stew were placed on the table. One woman wept silently as she ate, while Tamsin whispered a prayer.

For a brief moment, the room was filled not with tension but with the sounds of people trying to remember what safety tasted like.

Once done, the interviews continued. Justin was purposefully saving Lady Myrelle for last because he suspected hers would be a long one, and he was afraid the other women would leave first, while Myrelle seemed to be committed to staying. He focused on the Enchanter, a young woman with a soft disposition honey-colored hair, but hard brown eyes.

Justin wasn't sure if the others knew she even had a class, but he decided not to reveal that information, just in case she was hiding it for some reason.

"What is your name?" Justin asked. "How does someone in your... position... find themselves in chains?"

The young woman looked at him, then around the table, gauging the mood. Finally, she lifted her chin.

"My name is Rinna."

Her accent was Belmoran, though a bit harsher in dialect than this section of the city. Her hands were tightly folded in her lap, her knuckles pale.

"As for my story, I used to work at an enchantry over in Mudside."

Justin nodded, figuring it was a poorer part of town.

"Of course, my master wasn't Guild-sanctioned, but she was better than most of the licensed ones. Mistress Arla was a good woman. We mostly helped the poor. Birthings, simple charms. She said I had a knack for the work and even sponsored me so I could get a class. She said I was born for enchantments. I... believed her. Still do, sometimes."

A shadow flickered across her face.

"There was another apprentice who worked for her. Older. Unlike me, she was actually Guild-certified. More powerful, too, a higher level. But Mistress Arla... she gave me the hard work. The real work. Called me her 'true successor' once late one night. Serenna was still there in the back room, unknown to her."

She shifted in her chair, lowering her eyes.

"A few days later, guards came into the shop. They claimed one of my enchantments had nearly killed a nobleman's son. I knew nothing about that, but I think Serenna framed me. None of it was true, but it didn't matter. The enchantry was fined into the Nether and shut down. I was fined heavily myself and couldn't pay. I was thrown into prison for a few months. My debt was sold for coppers on the silver to Blithe."

Justin nodded. It seemed they had rescued her before the worst had begun. One thing to be grateful for, at least.

"I don't think Serenna intended for things to go that far. But she never came looking, either. I don't know what happened to her or Mistress Arla. I intend to find out... once I'm sure my position is safe."

Justin cleared his throat. "You still have your class. That's something. And from what I understand, Enchanter is one of the best classes to have."

Rinna nodded. "Level 6 isn't much. Blithe knew; I'm sure it was on the paperwork. He could have had other purposes in mind for me. It explains why he would pay for me, even though I came cheap. He probably saw an opportunity there."

"And now?" Justin asked. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

Rinna shook her head slightly. "No. But I'm not helpless. I want to help. I want a job. I see you have a class too—Entrepreneur. If you've got a business, Enchanters are practically a necessity if you're planning on making products that connect with the interface."

Justin nodded. He wasn't surprised she knew about his class. Enchanters seemed to have a natural ability to sense information conveyed by the ethereal interface. "I think we have much to discuss, Rinna, but perhaps later."

She nodded, and that brought them to the last woman, Lady Myrelle. Perhaps the greatest mystery of all.

"I suppose it's my turn now," Myrelle said. "No doubt you are wondering how a well-connected Socialite like me finds herself in such a perilous situation."

Justin nodded, focusing on her intently. As a Socialite, she would have some immunity to his Insightful Gaze through sheer charisma and perhaps some of her abilities, but he was confident that his own charisma—invested to the exclusion of all else—would pierce any potential lies or misdirection.

"Before we begin," Alistair said, "there are certain practicalities we must take care of. We've already been here for about an hour, and we can scarcely stay any longer, given everything we've learned."

Lila nodded. "Do you know another inn we could stay at, Alistair?"

"I usually stay in reputable establishments, most of which are owned by prominent families. It would be best to avoid that."

"There's a decent one about fifteen minutes' walk from here, halfway toward Mudside," Rinna offered. "Not as nice as this one by half, but affordable and not owned by one of the families. At least, last I knew."

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

"I can go and make arrangements," Lila said. "Rinna, could you show the way?"

Rinna nodded, rising. All of them, save Myrelle, seemed eager to go with her. It might not be a bad thing, since it got the women out of harm's way. By the time they were done with Myrelle, the inn would be secured. Hopefully.

"I can handle it," Lila said, glancing at Rinna. "It's less than a mile away, right?"

"Definitely," Rinna said. "Not far, but in an area the Aurelians wouldn't likely want to walk into voluntarily."

Justin caught the implication. He could easily stay in touch with Lila using Elea's Whisper given the range. "Sounds like a plan."

As Lila and the women left, the room grew quiet, leaving only Justin and Alistair with Myrelle. It was hard for this not to feel like an interrogation, but something about Myrelle didn't sit right.

Then again, if she were truly in on the whole operation, she would have left at the first opportunity.

For the first time, Myrelle looked truly tired. "Shall we get started?"

Justin nodded. "Tell me everything you know about Blithe, the Aurelians, and the Red Lantern. I get the sense this is a widespread operation and you know more than the others about it."

"You would be right. It's a long story, but one I'm all too happy to tell if it means the downfall of my enemies."

"Your enemies? You mean the Aurelians."

She gave a slow nod. "House Corrin is old. We're not wealthy by any means, at least compared to the Aurelians, but we're respected. We are heavily political. We oversee temple funding and public charity, but we gain most of our wealth from agrarian pursuits. Grain and barley, mostly. A lot of Priests and Clerics are in my family. Many hold high positions. My older brother is the High Cleric of Highcliff, for example."

Justin's eyes widened. "Ah, Theophilus."

Lady Myrelle's eyes widened as well. "What, you know him?"

"We met briefly," Alistair said, watching her curiously. "Months ago. We helped him dispatch a Vault."

"I see. Well, I've heard nothing of that, but then again, I don't hear from Theo often. A strange coincidence! Small world, as they say."

It was an interesting connection, but it didn't seem relevant to their situation. "So, back to your story."

"Of course," she said, straightening. "Three months ago, the Aurelians came to us with an offer that, on its face, was a bad deal for us. They wanted a grain export tax, which would have harmed our core business. Their public reason was to lower the price of bread for the commoners, but really, their margins would improve on many of their businesses if local grain prices went down. They've expanded heavily in breweries, for example, and they run supply chains for a lot of the army, who, of course, eat a lot of grain. I find it likely they wanted to force us to sell a lot of our holdings over the long term, but that wasn't apparent at the time. My father, Lord Corrin, was blinded by a tempting offer that in retrospect was too good to be true: a 50% stake in some of their most profitable ventures—more than adequate compensation. It would diversify us away from agriculture, something our family has been highly resistant to for generations, but one of my father's long-term goals. We tentatively gave our support to the export tax, and since we led a large coalition of other senators with similar interests, a lot went along with us. They got concessions, too."

Justin nodded, following everything and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Of course, we didn't know what was coming. We were betrayed; we soon learned that many of the promised businesses, while profitable, were nowhere near as lucrative as they had been portrayed, and the numbers were forged. My father caught wind of it and, the evening before the vote, publicly withdrew his support. He threatened the Aurelians, vowing to expose everything if they caused a stir. My father is a brave man, but he can be foolhardy. There were definitely better ways to handle it, but he was angry, and time was running out."

"And then?" Alistair asked.

"The vote for the tax failed. Without our support, it was doomed. All was quiet, and it seemed the Aurelians were content to let things slide..."

She hesitated, steeling herself to continue.

"A week later, I received an invitation to a party at a local estate we frequently visit. However, my carriage was ambushed. When I woke up, I found myself on that barge in chains, surrounded by women in a similar state. I'm beginning to suspect that there was never a party at all."

Justin furrowed his brow. "So this was retaliation."

"It was leverage, meant to embarrass House Corrin. I do a lot of charity work for the Church of Light. What better way to shame our family than this? They called themselves kidnappers, but I know the truth—confirmed by this Madame Yselle you spoke to. The Aurelians are behind it. I doubt they intended to let me suffer the same fate as those other women, given my standing, but it was definitely meant as a message: not even your daughter is safe. Now, I believe my family's days are numbered. The Aurelians are too rich, too ruthless."

Justin swallowed. They needed to leave this inn as quickly as possible.

She stared into the distance. "Yselle should never have mentioned the Aurelians. That was a grave mistake. But perhaps it reveals their pride. As for Darien Blithe, I'm certain he has connections to the Aurelians. They have their fingers and eyes in every part of this city. They probably know about you two already. How could they not, staying so close to the Aurelian Tower?"

She turned to Justin, her eyes sharp. "My advice? You've done more than enough. Let me return home quietly. Don't fight them. Don't turn this into a war. Sue for peace however you can, whenever they come knocking, and they will, give them whatever they want. I'm going to ask my father to do the same. If we give the Aurelians that, then they will let us live. Maybe. That's the best we can all hope for at this point."

Justin was stewing over all this. From everything Lady Myrelle had said, it was the full truth from her perspective, and it complicated matters deeply.

"Not bad for a day's work," Justin said drolly.

Alistair was about to ask a follow-up question when his eyes landed on something at the door. Justin looked and saw a folded letter that had been slipped under the threshold without their noticing.

"Dear gods," he said.

He rose, handling the letter carefully. No trap detected from his Adventuring Set.

He opened it, and only five words were written:

We know who you are.

The letter suddenly caught fire as Justin let it go, flames licking up his fingers. He yelped and dropped it, but the parchment was already ash.

He looked up, heart pounding. "Yep. Time to leave."

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