Esmeralda stood outside Marlowe Aerofinch’s residence, a tall, narrow building rising four stories against the skyline. The structure, a common sight in Xandelfi, seemed more like a towering stack of cramped rooms and stairs than a true home, its narrow windows glinting in the light of the morning suns.

Esmeralda shook her head, chastising herself for stalling. Despite knowing Marlowe wouldn’t be a significant challenge, the gravity of her mission pressed heavily upon her. As an agent, her word carried significant authority, but she had to ensure his death appeared accidental. A misstep could lead to her being rounded up by the inquisitors and marched before a Vestigare tribunal—a fate nearly as daunting as failing Balrik.

Esmeralda sighed and ascended the stairs to the front door. In these vertical homes, the main entrance was typically on the second floor. Pausing in front of the door, she fidgeted with the thick copper ring on her middle finger—the one that had kept her safe countless times, just as Balrik had promised. She took a steadying breath, pushing away her reluctance, and used the shiny bronze knocker fixed to the door before she could find another reason to stall.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an Arzan. Short for his kind, he had long white hair and plum-colored skin.

“Yes?” the Arzan asked.

“Marlowe Aerofinch?”

“Who is asking?”

“The Vestigare,” Esmeralda replied, showing him the badge medallion of her office she wore around her neck.

“Aye, I am Marlowe Aerofinch. What would the Vestigare want with me?” Marlowe asked.

“I only want to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”

Marlowe shrugged with the easy confidence of someone who had greased the right palms.

Esmeralda stepped through the threshold and scanned the room. It was a spacious area, clearly set up for entertaining guests. There were a few bench sofas against the wall and a mound of cushions near the center of the room. She also noticed a low table with a water pipe for smoking tobacco before returning her attention back to Marlowe.

“I am only a humble trader, nothing more, nothing less, so I am having trouble understanding. Why are you here?” Marlowe asked, closing the door.

“Rest assured, Master Marlowe, this will be a brief and straightforward inquiry. In fact, it would be better to think of this as a formality.”

“Care to sit?” he asked, gesturing toward the cushions.

“No, thank you. As I said, I will not be here long,” Esmeralda answered, waving her hand in decline.

Marlowe’s shrug was nonchalant, but the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the flicker of unease in his eyes betrayed his anxiety.

“The Vestigare reviews windship dock logs and occasionally requires follow-up on discrepancies,” Esmeralda explained, pulling a small leather-bound book from her belt.

“Let me check… Ah, here we go. According to the logs, you left Xandelfi with far more food than necessary for your crew of three. Yet, you returned with most of it depleted. Could you tell me what happened?”

“I can see how that would look suspicious,” Marlowe said with a smile and a chuckle before continuing, “but it was a simple miscommunication between my first mate and me.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“That sounds reasonable, but what happened to the food?”

“I considered selling it and paying taxes, but I’d have only recouped a fraction of the value. Instead, I donated it to starving children. The gods have blessed me enough.”

“Did you file the official paperwork?” Esmeralda asked.

“No, is that an issue?”

“Not necessarily, but you could use it for tax deductions. I’d recommend consulting a Ramon arbitrator for more accurate guidance.”

“I will keep that in mind for the future,” Marlowe replied.

“Well, that should do it. Thank you for your time, Master Marlowe,” Esmeralda said, putting up her notebook.

Esmeralda walked past him toward the door, before turning back to face the smuggler.

“One more thing before I leave,” Esmeralda said, raising her index finger as if a sudden thought had occurred to her.

“Of course, Agent,” Marlowe said, flashing what Esmeralda assumed was his best smile.

“After Balrik took you under his wing, why did you think you could use what you learned from him to cut into his profits? Did you truly believe there would be no consequences for your betrayal?”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of fear as the color drained from his face.

“What?” Marlowe asked stupidly, taking a step back from her.

“Balrik has taken your actions personally and demands retribution,” Esmeralda said, drawing her short sword.

Marlowe turned and broke into a full sprint. He skidded around the corner and out of the room.

Esmeralda didn’t have much time to react and dashed after him. Entering the hallway, she heard boots rapidly ascending a stairway. Esmeralda followed and saw Marlowe turn the corner at the top of the stairs. She pressed on but carefully turned the corner, so she would not walk into an ambush and found another flight of stairs.

Breathless from the relentless chase, Esmeralda burst onto the fourth floor. The master bedroom door was ajar, and she moved stealthily, every muscle tensed, her senses on high alert as she scanned the room for any sign of Marlowe.

If Esmeralda were in his shoes, she would take her last stand in her chambers. However, to Esmeralda’s surprise, the room was empty, and upon further inspection. she saw a ladder and an open hatch.

Esmeralda stood at the bottom of the ladder and focused her ley, casting a quick barrier spell in case Marlowe wanted to attack her as she emerged through the hatch.

Esmeralda quickly climbed the ladder, braced herself for an attack that never came, and found herself on a gorgeous deck atop Marlowe’s home.

Esmeralda’s eyes found Marlowe opposite the hatch, clutching a dagger two-handedly, pointing it in her direction.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so messed up between Balrik and me,” Marlowe said.

“How does one cut their mentor out by accident?” Esmeralda retorted.

“Things happened. Balrik was gone, and people wanted shipments. I should have paid, I know. There has to be some way to make this right.”

“Let’s speak plainly,” Esmeralda said, sheathing her weapon, her palms open in a gesture of truce but her mind already calculating the next move.

“I want your word. Promise me you won’t harm me,” Marlowe said.

“I won’t touch you. I promise.”

Marlowe tucked the dagger in his belt. Esmeralda took a few steps towards him.

“I need you to tell Balrik I will pay what I owe him and more. Whatever it takes. I will make this right,” Marlowe said.

Esmeralda focused her ley on her ring.

“Actually, I think it’s too late to mend fences with Balrik,” Esmeralda said, her voice sounding cold to her ears. Before Marlowe could react, Esmeralda used the ley she focused into her ring to unleash a powerful, eldritch kinetic blast.

Marlowe flew as if he was pulled from behind by an invisible hand and pinwheeled over the deck’s railing.

Esmeralda looked down at Marlowe’s bloodied, twisted body sprawled in the street below. Grimacing, she steeled herself for the long descent. She had to confirm his death and stage the scene, erasing any trace of her involvement—a grim necessity before reporting to the Vestigare. The weight of breaking her oath pressed down harder than she’d expected, but she forced the guilt aside. There would be time to reckon with that later.