If Herwig had not brought more people into the investigation, at this time the police would have checked only half of the list. Cornelia chose a few places near the northern gates. This place was farther from the royal armory and factory district but was popular with foreign traders. Wool they found in the storage seemed to be of higher quality than that produced by Suffolk sheep in their kingdom. Therefore, the product from another kingdom was used to conceal stolen weapons. Hoping to use this information as a clue, the princess visited three pubs before arriving at the fourth.

At first glance, this place was not different from the others she had visited. A three-story building was built in more prosperous times and was squeezed between much taller buildings. The first floor was occupied by a bar, the second floor offered rooms for travelers at an affordable price. The third floor could be used as a warehouse, extra rooms, or a home for the owners. Not everyone liked living right under the tiled roof with low ceilings, but the lack of available space inside the floating cities left little room for choosing.

The princess proceeded with the same routine as she had done three times before: ordering a drink in the bar, observing the surroundings, and checking the other floors. The first floor was full of people. Local workers mostly stuck to each other, while merchant companies looked far more diverse. Those interested in their businesses to prosper left behind any timidity and eagerly engaged in conversations with travelers from other kingdoms. Cornelia took a sip of her ordered homemade ginger ale and found a seat at a small table under the stairs, which didn't have a full view of the first floor but was a good place to avoid attention. She began listening to nearby conversations, unfortunately, it was loud in the bar with simultaneous talks layered on top of each other.

Trying to make use of the fragments of overheard conversations, Cornelia observed the bar. The latter, with skin tones ranging from black umber to brown ochre, cheerfully shared news and discussed business. Despite having been left for a second term in the North-East territory, with its cold winters, they seemed to never lose hope. Looking at them, Cornelia remembered a friend she had made during the Tower banquet: 'I wish we could meet and talk soon. I wonder how her research is going?'. But it would require much more effort than simply writing an invitation letter offering a job in Castro. To make such an opportunity available, she would need to provide a researcher with proper financial support. Grimmer thoughts could wait. Cornelia took another sip and noticed some movement at the entrance, so she glanced in that direction.

A man with a sack on his shoulder quickly walked up the stairs. He covered most of his face with a scarf, but the ornament on the sleeves of his shirt was similar to that of a favorite Varman's. The country had moved after the last Draw to the north, a territory famous for its hills and meadows pastures. It might be a questionable hint, but it's still worth checking out. The princess left her drink unfinished and followed the man up the stairs.

Upstairs, as predicted, was filled with rented rooms. Near the railings, she found a bucket with a floorcloth, left by the cleaning woman. The sound of footsteps came from the stairs leading to the next floor. The Varman person was heading to the last floor, so the princess picked up the bucket and followed him. She left behind the first flight and started to climb up the second one when a cloaked figure hung over her, blocking the path her target took. 'He looks like a thug. Or is he a bodyguard?' - the quick thought crossed her mind. Neither of these options sounded like good news to her.

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The young man looked a few years older than she, yet he was well-built. His broad chest, wide shoulders, and strong arms made it clear that if there was a fight, it wouldn't be easy to deal with him. Making things worse, they would be clashing on the narrow stairs. For a moment, Cornelia was considering the best course of action: should she retreat, or should she try to attack him? Her gaze met his calm hazel eyes. It would be possible to defeat him with a surprise attack, but now he was on guard. Holding tightly the bucket, Cornelia lowered her head.

"I'm done cleaning the other floors. Can you move aside, please? I need to finish my work."

She stepped forward, but despite her action, the guy didn't move. Cornelia raised her head again. She stood so close to him that any decent man would have felt uncomfortable, especially if her title was known. But this one just stared back.

Somehow, something seemed familiar about him. But Cornelia was sure she had met him for the first time. A sudden realization took her aback: 'Oh, I see. The way he frowns is similar to my father's.' Not the most pleasant similarity to have.

Still frowning, the guy leaned forward, and it took some effort for Cornelia not to step back. She expected him to grab her hand, but instead, he took the bucket from her.

"No need to clean here. I'll do it myself," his low voice sounded calm, yet firm.

Vexed by his interference, Cornelia retreated. There was no way to tell how many of his allies, possible smugglers, were upstairs. She planned to investigate alone as far as she could. Now that she had encountered a suspect, it would be wise to get help. The princess returned to the first floor. Still standing near the stairs, she gave a sign to one of the waitresses.

"What is located on the third floor?"

"Storerooms. We rent them to merchants and travelers. Would you like to rent one?"

Cornelia shook her head and the interest in the woman's eyes began to fade. Before she could leave for other customers, the princess quickly wrote a note: "Please go to the nearest police station and bring a couple of officers here. Give them this note; it will clear up any questions." Cornelia handed over the piece of paper with a banknote. Encouraged by the sudden payment, the waitress hurried outside. Their brief conversation attracted a bald man with a white goatee, sitting at the bar counter. Despite his thinness and short height, he approached the stairs with speed that was difficult to expect from someone of his complexion and age. Before he could question her, Cornelia showed a medallion with a royal crest on it. A slight annoyance on the man's face turned to anxiety.

"Are you the owner?"

"Yes, your..." he hesitated over the right way to address her. It was understandable. She didn't wear anything flashy, and no one accompanied her. "Your Ladyship."

"We will need to check the third floor as soon as the police arrive. It's a matter of national security."

"Of course, of course," the man readily accepted the situation. Even more, his expression, the slight smile, made it obvious he was going to use it as a way to advertise his business. Before he could build a nice castle in the clouds, the princess put an end to this fantasy.

"If you leak any information, this place will be confiscated."

"Naturally, your ladyship."

"But I can give you my word - the Royal Guard Corps will celebrate their next pay day here."

This promise certainly cheered up the owner.

The police arrived faster than expected. In one of the storage rooms on the third floor, they found a bag of wool and a crate of rifles. But despite watching the stairs all the time before the police arrived, they didn't find anyone upstairs. Both Varman person and the cloaked man, who might have been a bodyguard or the broker himself, disappeared without a trace.