“I know what you did!”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, don’t play dumb. I was there. Saw it all.”

“I don’t follow, sir.”

“How do you think she’ll feel when I tell her?”

“Please, sir, don’t.”

“I could keep quiet... but that comes at a price.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“It’s not that different from what you did. One crown and I’ll forget everything.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I’m a man of honor. One crown is a small price to keep your secret.”

From around the corner, Joey watched the exchange. The extortioner wore a battered top hat and a faded blue waistcoat, with a gold tooth flashing in his gapped smile. As the passerby hurried off, humiliated, the scammer scanned the street for his next mark.

“I know what you did!” he called out again.

“Excuse me?” The next target frowned, brushed him off, and walked away.

The scammer scowled, tapping his foot impatiently. Then he spotted another passerby.

“I know what you did! We need to talk.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the keeper of secrets. Your family doesn’t know what you’ve been up to, but they could.”

“Nonsense!”

Joey had seen enough. He stepped out from behind the corner. “Hello, Reggie.”

The scammer jumped. “Constable Jones! What a surprise.”

“You can go,” Joey told the passerby. “He’s got nothing on you.”

Relieved, the man hurried off. Reggie pouted, watching his easy money slip away.

“Come on, constable! You’re ruining my business.”

“Business? You’re running a scam. Honestly, I’m amazed people fall for it.”

“Everyone’s got secrets.”

Joey’s tone sharpened. “Speaking of which... what’s the word on the street?”

Reggie shifted nervously. “Oh, nothing worth mentioning.”

“What about the sirenian oil? Who’s moving it?”

Joey dangled a crown in front of him, watching Reggie’s eyes lock onto the coin.

“Come on, Reggie. You know the deal. No info, no money.”

Reggie sighed, checking the street before leaning in. “Pirates are hiring muscle. Word is, they’ve come into some money. Sirenia might be involved.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing. I swear on Ambyssus’ eye.”

Joey frowned. “Ambyssus’ eye? What’s that?”

Reggie grinned slyly. “I thought you were an educated man, constable. Never heard the phrase?”

Joey threw him the crown. Reggie bit it, as if doubting its authenticity. Joey rolled his eyes and pulled out another coin.

“What about the Black Merchant? Anything?”

Reggie clammed up. “Have a good day, constable.”

“Come on, Reggie. Don’t be like that.”

Joey flashed a crown, but Reggie didn’t budge. The mention of the Black Merchant always did this—shut people down completely. No one in town dared speak about him as if he were the boogeyman.

“Fine. You know where to find me if you think of something.” Joey waved him off, and Reggie slunk into an alley, no doubt looking for his next victim.

Joey headed for the stable where Luna was waiting. Despite the unease surrounding the lake, the city felt oddly unchanged. Laughter of children echoed, trees still broke the sea of grey with patches of green, and merchants barked about their wares. Joey caught the smell of popcorn and grimaced. He was glad his daughter wasn’t with him; she’d insist on having some, and the ensuing argument would be exhausting.

As he passed a dark alley, murmurs caught his attention. Two teenagers were scrawling graffiti on the wall.

“Hey! That’s public property!”

They scattered, shouting, “Cop! Run!”

Joey gave chase but quickly lost them. “Damn, when did I get so old?”

He doubled back, examining the graffiti. It was in an odd, unfamiliar, and loopy script. Above it, someone had sketched an eye.

“Kids these days,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Back at the stable, he tossed a crown to the stable boy and mounted Luna. She neighed happily, eager to run, but Joey patted her neck, focusing on his next destination. He gulped at the thought.

It was time to visit his father’s estate. He had been avoiding it long enough.

*

“So, the animals are doing well?”

“Yes, sir. I can't explain how, but everything seems fine.”

“Do me a favor, Red. Let’s keep this between us for now, alright? Tell the boys I want no mention of this to anyone.”

“Sir?” Red’s weathered eyes showed concern at the suggestion of withholding their discovery.

“Red?” Geoffrey’s voice was firmer.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Aye. I’ll leave the business to you, sir. I’m just here for the animals.”

“Good. Are you taking them out?”

“Aye! They’ve been cooped up too long. They need to stretch their legs.”

“Very well. Get to it.”

Geoffrey watched as Red shuffled toward the pier, the old man’s steps slow but purposeful. His was an interesting discovery, but timing was everything. When the moment was right, it could prove to be a valuable show of goodwill. He turned and headed toward the parlor, which offered a commanding view of the estate.

The lake’s waterline had receded, returning to its usual calm volume. As Geoffrey ascended the stairs, he took in his property with a swell of pride. From a man with nothing but a scrap of cardboard to sleep on, he had come so far. This was his kingdom now. Every acre, every building—his.

He passed his secretary on the way to his office.

Deborah—though everyone called her Debbie—was one of his latest hires. Fresh from Orca University, she’d graduated with top honors. She had a forgettable face, and even though she tried to keep her hair in a ponytail, it was always slightly disheveled. Her desk was perpetually cluttered with papers and notes scattered in chaotic piles, but beneath the disorder lay an unseen system. Somehow, she was the best secretary Geoffrey had ever employed.

“Hey, Debbie. How are you today?”

“Sir, there’s a guest waiting for you. He said it was urgent. I’ve already ushered him into the waiting room.”

“Very well, I’ll see him now.”

Geoffrey walked down the hall and stopped at the door. The man inside was familiar, though Geoffrey hardly knew a thing about him beyond his face. The last time they’d met, there had been a tavern counter between them.

“Hello, Geoffrey,” the tavern keeper rasped.

“Hello. Who’s minding the tavern?” Geoffrey asked reflexively, instantly realizing how pointless the question was. The tavern keeper owed him no explanations, and Geoffrey certainly wasn’t in a position to pry into the man’s business. Even so, he’d been fascinated by how their system was set up and assumed that the tavern keeper stayed behind the counter twenty-four-seven, cleaning glasses.

The tavern keeper gave a noise—half grunt, half chuckle. Geoffrey couldn’t quite tell which. “Would you like to step into my office?” he offered. The same sound followed. This was a man of few words.

Inside, the tavern keeper surveyed the room before entering, his gaze sharp and deliberate. They both sat down.

“So, what should I call you?”

“Tavern keeper.”

“Very well. What news do you have for me?”

“We’ve studied your proposal. There’s a way to make it work.”

“How?”

“The law requires all oil transactions to happen in the district’s oil market.”

“And?”

“Well, embassies are technically foreign soil. We could argue they’re independent nations outside of any district. No one could claim we were breaking the law if we moved the oil and made the deals there.”

A thrill ran through Geoffrey’s spine. His skin tingled. By Ambyssus... The joy of finding a loophole—there was no better feeling. It was like squeezing through a crack in the law that no one else had noticed. Geoffrey poured himself a glass of lake water and drank deeply, savoring the rush.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I trust you have connections with the ambassadors?” The tavern keeper nodded.

“And the oil market stamps? Every barrel sold must carry the stamp, or it’ll be seized.”

“No law says you can’t refill old barrels that already have the stamp.”

Geoffrey smiled. Another loophole.

“And the paperwork? How do we manage that?”

“You’ll put fifty barrels on the market, and we’ll ensure they’re purchased. Afterward, we’ll transport the same barrels back and forth, emptying and refilling them. All the while, we’ll use the same papers. It’s more work but completely legal. Even if someone does manage to trace it back to you, they won't be able to do anything about it.”

“Excellent. Oh, where are my manners? Would you like some water, tavern keeper?” The man declined with a slow shake of his head.

“One more thing. The papers will have to list you as the producer. That means you might get customers wanting to visit the estate.”

“I see. We’ll be in the same boat then, won’t we? I’m sure I can rely on your... charm to keep them cooperative.”

The tavern keeper simply stood, indicating the conversation was over. Geoffrey followed suit, watching as the man disappeared out the door without another word.

Alone, Geoffrey turned to the wide window, gazing over his vast estate. The lake shimmered in the afternoon light. His kingdom. And soon, his coffers would swell even further.

*

Silverlake Ranch was the oldest estate in Lake Grassum. Its tall towers and thick walls were relics of the time when pirates roamed the shores. Back then, oil producers invested in fortifications. Now, comfort and luxury had replaced defense.

Joey urged Luna through the gates and along the road to the manor. As the trees thinned, the lake’s surface shimmered under the sun. Familiar humps of dugongs surfaced, their placid breaths punctuating the calm waters as they grazed on seagrass.

At the stables, he dismounted, leaving Luna in the care of a stable hand. As Joey approached the manor, the brownstone house loomed ahead. Memories of his father’s death surged through him like a cold wave. He had to stop, pressing against the wall, gasping for air. The panic clawed at him, the image of his father’s lifeless body overwhelming. He forced himself to focus on the lake, drawing in long breaths until he steadied.

After a few moments, he turned away from the manor. There was no way he could step inside.

Joey wandered past the stables and warehouses, noting the disrepair. The property had once gleamed under his father’s care. Now, the walls were battered by the lake’s salty winds, and the whole place looked tired. His father would have been furious to see it like this.

Finally, he spotted movement by the pier. A woman, basket in hand, was tossing apples to the dugongs. When she noticed Joey, her face lit up. She abandoned the basket and rushed toward him, or at least hurried as much as a sixty-year-old woman could.

“Joseph! It’s really you.” She embraced him, and Joey returned the gesture.

“Hey, Sophie. Been a while.”

“Too long! Are you—" She hesitated, the question catching in her throat. “Are you here to move back?”

“No, Sophie. You know I can’t. Too many memories.”

“But it’s a fine house, Joseph. A place for you, Molly, your family.” Sophie’s eyes twinkled with hope.

Joey shook his head. “I can’t. The house... it’s too much.”

Sophie sighed. “Your father would be heartbroken to see it empty. It’s survived pirates, cannon shots—yet here it stands, abandoned. All it took was a broken heart to bring it down.”

Joey tried to change the subject. “How are the dugongs?”

“As you instructed, we care for them but never harvest the blubber. It’s a fine herd, sir. You could get several barrels a year, enough to cover the estate’s costs.”

“I don’t care about the money, Sophie. My father loved those dugongs.”

“They were like children to him.” Sophie nodded wistfully.

“I came to check on the flood damage. Any issues?”

“Ambyssus’ grief, sir!” Joey froze. That was the second time today he’d heard that phrase. “Your father’s estate could withstand an army of pirates! Not even a flood could harm it.”

“And the dugongs? I heard the water changed.”

“Yes, it became sweet for a few days, but the dugongs adjusted. They’re back to normal.”

“That’s strange. I thought they only thrived in seawater.”

“I can’t explain it, sir, but they’re fine.”

“And the vacuuming parlor? Is it operational?”

“No, sir. Someone came by to check a day or two ago... Finley, I think.”

Joey smirked. The mayor hadn’t trusted him and sent someone behind his back to verify the equipment. “And did you show him the state of it?”

“I did, sir. It’s all rusted, unusable. Salt ate away at the metal over the years. It needs a full overhaul.”

“Maybe we should fix it. It could help the city after the flood, especially with other producers struggling.”

Sophie shook her head. “If you can find someone to do it. All the engineers have been snatched up in bidding wars. Their services are going for astronomical prices.”

“Bidding wars for engineers? That’s absurd.”

“It’s the way things are, sir. The rich get the labor, and the rest are left waiting.”

Joey frowned, disgusted by the thought. “It’s not right.”

Sophie softened. “Would you like me to get the house painted at least? It would do your father proud.”

“Do that, Sophie. And keep caring for the dugongs.” Seeing Sophie’s smile brought back bittersweet memories of the past, but it also gave him a small sense of comfort.

“I’ll find the best painters, Joseph. Maybe your mother would even want to visit once we fix it up.”

Joey stepped in for a hug. “Thanks, Sophie. I need to get back to work.”

As he turned to leave, Sophie called after him. “Remember, this will always be your house, Joseph. And your daughter’s, too.”

Joey paused, then nodded. “I know. See you later, Sophie.”

He found Luna waiting in the stables, her head nuzzling him affectionately. He hugged her back and, for the first time that day, let himself cry.