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The inquiror stretched his arms overhead as he and the apprentice made their way towards the Dancing Turtle tavern. "Setting out on a breathtaking adventure - winning glorious wars, claiming mountains of treasure - that's the dream fueling every boy from the humblest village to the grandest town across the Wessen continent," he mused.

Gesturing vaguely at their opulent surroundings, he added, "But for the girls? Having a lavish, glittering life here in the capital of Lyondyn is the lofty aspiration."

As they neared the tavern's swinging doors, two familiar figures in the distinctive crimson cloaks of the Crown's enforcers emerged. "You there!" Albert called out, bidding them a halt. "Enforcers!"

"Aye, sir?" one of the watchmen replied, snapping to attentive readiness.

"I don't need to ask if you're aware of the recent reaping committed by these black widow malefactors." It was not a question.

The two exchanged a terse glance before the apparent senior of the pair responded, "We are, sir. Dreadful business."

Albert nodded curtly. "Then relay these instructions to your captain posthaste: Double patrols and security in the entertainment district immediately. And assign two of your best watchmen to each of the remaining 'Three Princesses' - have them roll shifts around the clock until we've rooted out the murderer. These girls are not to be left unwatched, not even for a moment." His eyes bored into them, allowing no room for argument.

"It will be done, sir," the enforcer assured him. "You have my word."

With a succinct gesture of dismissal, the two watchmen scurried off to convey Albert's orders.

The inquiror was afforded such latitudes - widely respected as a senior agent, he could circumvent the chain of command when situations demanded immediate action. Still, he endeavored to follow protocols out of respect for the system.

As the enforcers' vibrant cloaks disappeared into the crowds, Albert turned back to his young charge. "Come along then. A pint of ale is in order, I think before we press on to the next grim errand of our duty..."

Mentor and apprentice claimed a table by the wide window, bright sunlight streaming in to bathe them in warmth. Lalisa spoke up as they settled onto the sturdy oak benches. "Our first priority must be finding this killer."

Albert gave a grave nod. "Indeed. The modus operandi is consistent - snapped necks requiring immense strength." He frowned, recalling the grisly crime scene details. "And from witness accounts, our perpetrator is a huge, burly fellow. Hideously scarred face missing front teeth."

"Lalisa." The inquiror addressed his protégé directly. "Where did you say this ruffian hailed from again?"

"The slums quarter, ser," she replied crisply.

As soon as the words left her lips, a sense of urgency settled over Albert. He knew the dank, winding alleyways and underground tunnel networks of the slums like the back of his calloused hand. If they didn't move swiftly, this brute could simply disappear like a specter into that dilapidated labyrinth.

Rising abruptly from his seat, Albert began gathering his effects with practiced efficiency. He crossed to a secluded corner of the tavern, swiftly stripping off his official inquiror's accouterments and donning a simple, nondescript commoner's outfit.

Doffing his cap low over his eyes, he rejoined the bemused Lalisa. "We move fast and light," he murmured under his breath. "If we want any chance of catching this bastard before he ghosts back into that blasted Warren, kid gloves are off."

Without further preamble, he turned and strode from the tavern, her falling into step just behind. The suns were reaching their zenith - high noon rapidly approaching when even the bravest souls wisely avoided the slums' serpentine stretches.

But inquirors like Albert had no choice. The black widows' latest victims deserved justice, no matter how dark the paths they were forced to tread to deliver it.

"What are you doing, Ser Albert?" Lalisa asked, brow furrowing in confusion as her mentor began shedding his official garb.

"Paying a visit to an old friend," he replied tersely, not meeting her gaze as he cinched the simple commoner's tunic.

The apprentice moved to rise, assuming she would accompany him as was customary. "But Ser—"

Albert cut her off with a curt gesture and a shake of his head. "No, Lalisa. You'll remain here."

Lalisa opened her mouth to protest further, but the severe look in the grizzled inquiror's eyes stilled her objection. He couldn't risk her presence in the viper's nest they were about to plunge into - one unpredictable move and this whole grim affair could turn uglier than even he could stomach.

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"Wait for me at this table," Albert instructed, leaving no room for argument. "Order the usual. I'll return directly."

Though confused and concerned, the apprentice knew better than to press the matter further. "Yes, Ser," she replied, attempting to mask her disquiet as her mentor swept from the tavern, cloak billowing behind him.

"I'm not going out for long. Should anyone ask, tell them I'm going to the snake pit," He exited the tavern and headed to the stable next to the tavern. more practical than leaving his horse in the garrison stable where it was very hard to get the horse ready and out on short notice. Apprentice Lalisa was worried as Snake Pit was another name for Indulgencia.

Alone now, Lalisa couldn't shake the sense of trepidation worming its way into her gut. Wherever Albert was venturing, it was clearly no place for a debuting initiate like herself. She could only hope her mentor would utilize his renowned street smarts and blend seamlessly into whatever unsavory recesses of the capital he now pursued.

Squaring her shoulders, she waved over a serving wench to order their usual frothing ales, resolving to project an air of unruffled calm and poise. But staring out through the streaked glass at the bustling cityscape beyond, she couldn't quite quell the nagging worry - what viper's nest was Albert willingly striding into now?

Indulgencia was the Shadowsong syndicate headquarters, it was an entertainment complex in the middle of the slum district with underground serve many kinds of pleasure and entertainment services one can only imagine.

As Albert strode away from the Dancing Turtle tavern, hood pulled low over his features, he couldn't shake the nagging sense of trepidation worming its way into his gut. He was an experienced inquiror, a veteran of treading paths through the capital's darkest, most perilous underbellies. But this particular errand carried its own unique dangers.

He knew all too well that nothing in the slums occurred without the Shadowsong syndicate's awareness - or more likely, involvement. That dilapidated labyrinth of winding alleys and subterranean tunnels was their domain, their tentacles of crime and corruption stretching from every dank crevice. If this Ugly Don character dwelled anywhere, it was amidst that serpentine realm.

And entering the viper's nest, even briefly, came with substantial risk. Shadowsong's ruthless footsoldiers and debt collectors patrolled those fetid stretches with a possessive menace, ever-watchful for any perceived threats to their illicit fiefdom. An unannounced outsider like himself could quickly find a dagger separating his vitals, no questions asked.

⁕⁕⁕

The apprentice settled into her mentor's usual spot at the worn oak table, ordering his familiar refreshments - a jug of deep ruby Arum red wine, two pewter cups, and a frosty mug of fresh water. Though she worked in the halls of Justice, her striking beauty drew roving eyes. Lithe and toned, her form-fitting apprentice dress hinted at the alluring curves beneath - a small waist that could be spanned by a man's hands, firm breasts straining against laced leather and a taut, rounded backside that refused concealment as she took her seat.

Despite the open admiration of the tavern's male patrons, an unspoken reverence kept them from approaching too closely. She was the daughter of the revered former Head Inquisitor, commanding respect even in this rowdy den of ale and sin known as the Dancing Turtle.

The raucous din did little to break the apprentice's solitude as she sat alone, her mentor had excused himself to the infamous Indulgencia brothel owned by the shadowy Shadowsong syndicate. His curt instructions to remain put hinted at a gravity she dared not question. A woman knew her place in certain situations, unpleasant as that truth could be.

Lost in contemplation, she failed to notice the tavern maid's arrival with their ordered refreshments until a young newsboy burst through the doors, waving a paper and crying "News flash! News flash!" His voice cut through the clamor, snapping the apprentice from her reverie as the irritated tavern keeper shooed the intruding child away.

"Oi! This is not a place for children!" the grizzled tavern keeper barked at the newsboy who had barged through the doors with blatant disregard.

"What's the news, kid?" one of the rowdier patrons called out, undeterred by the keeper's rebuke.

The boy clamped his mouth shut, standing stock-still with an expectant look upon his soot-stained face until the apprentice realized his intent. With a slight roll of her eyes, she produced a few copper coins and slid them across the table. "Now speak," she prompted in a tone laced with equal parts exasperation and amusement.

"The Leverette Revolt has officially ended!" the boy announced, his reedy voice carrying over the din. "The rabbit folk have surrendered. All captives taken during the revolt will be sold at market!"

A chorus of degenerate whistles and lewd calls erupted from the assembled men of the law. "The bunnies are back on the market, boys!"

"Aye, there'll be fresh stock hitting Redpole in a few days' time!"

Redpole, the apprentice knew all too well, referred to the entertainment district's seedy underbelly where prostitution and debauchery flourished even under the harsh glare of day. She felt her stomach twist as these supposed upholders of justice carried on like dawn-cloaked degenerates.

"Nah, I'll wager the high-end brothels like Fair Lady and Indulgencia already have new 'merchandise' on offer tonight," a rough-faced Crown enforcer guffawed, his words dripping with smug self-satisfaction.

The apprentice's gut clenched further at their foul insinuations. These were fathers and brothers who should know better than to objectify women so brazenly - they who embodied the law itself.

"I'll have to swing by before returning to the garrison," another enforcer joined in with a dark chuckle.

Sickened, the apprentice fought to keep her features impassive as she turned back to the newsboy. "Is that all?" she pressed, eager to be rid of this foul display.

The boy grinned, eyes glinting with opportunism as he replied, "No, actually, there's more." He made a show of counting the coins in his palm without sparing her a glance.

With an irritated sigh, she dug out two more coppers and slid them over. "Tsk, this better be good then. Spill it!"

"The samurai mutinied during the sacking of the rabbit folk's village," the boy stated plainly, finally pocketing his earnings.

A hush fell over the raucous tavern as the patrons absorbed this shocking revelation. "Mutinied?"

"But wasn't it Lord Borran himself leading the main force against the Leverettes?"

"Aye, but it was the Inazuma samurai in the vanguard..."

Disbelieving murmurs rippled through the crowd. The samurai, that vaunted warrior caste from the Rising Sun lands, were renowned for their unshakable fealty and adherence to bushido - the ancient code that governed their conduct in war. For them to break ranks in such a transgressive manner... it raised disturbing questions about the hand that had guided this campaign of subjugation.

As coin after coin found its way into the newsboy's eager palms - the customary reward in these lands for a herald's service - the apprentice found her own thoughts drifting to the rumors surrounding Lord Borran's tactics. If even the vaunted samurai had finally reached their breaking point.

⁕⁕⁕