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51 Watchmen

An odd pulse tugged on Dave's soul, distracting him from his meditation trance as he worked on converting his fingernail to more crystal. He opened his eyes and looked around, his brow furrowing in confusion. Something pulsed once more, and Dave realized that the sensation originated from something in his pocket.

"What?" He thought, concern creeping into his mind.

"Someone's at the gates," Alaster's voice resounded from Dave's fingernail, sounding like a gust of powerful wind echoing through a deep chamber. “The gate keystone in your pocket is pulsing to notify you.”

"Who?" Dave thought, his heart racing with apprehension.

"I don't know," Alaster replied, his tone uncertain.

"As we are not expecting visitors, probability suggests that it could be a threat," Sherlock's violin suddenly added to the wind gusts, pulsing from Dave's soul. "Go to the window."

Since Dave had managed to anchor Alaster outside of his body, Sherlock had slowly returned to advise him from the depths of his own soul.

Dave untangled his limbs from his lotus pose and rushed to the round window. He peered out, his eyes scanning the grounds outside the estate. He saw two figures standing in front of the gate—a man and a woman wearing fanciful suits and dark cloaks. The pair had glittering pins on their lapels, marking their allegiance. The man was human-ish at a glance, but the woman was a mixture of a girl and a gray wolf.

"City watch," Sherlock commented, his voice tense.

"Can we just ignore them?" Dave gulped, his nerves fraying at the thought of an unwanted confrontation.

"Watchmen at the gates are never a good thing," Alaster warned, his voice grave. "If they have a warrant, they could summon a wardsmith to bring the outer ward down. If they do that, your dragoness will be exposed to scrying."

"Shit," Dave thought in a panic, his mind racing to find a solution to the problem at hand.

"Get Cedez," Sherlock advised.

Dave didn't hesitate, his feet carrying him swiftly down the metal stairwell. Cedez was already standing upright in the garden, her gaze fixed on the unexpected visitors.

"There's..." Dave began.

"I know," she nodded. "This was going to happen sooner or later since we've started to deliver Bakelite orders. Let me do most of the talking. Do not attempt to lie in their presence, they can spot obvious deception with truth-hexagrams."

Dave nodded, trusting in Cedez's experience and knowledge of dealing with the City Watch.

A fleeting sunbeam illuminated the path, highlighting the duo of a foxgirl and pretend-Lord, who, with each step, grew increasingly nervous. The girl's dark tail swayed gracefully in time with her nimble gait, while a bead of perspiration on Dave's temple betrayed his apprehension.

As they reached the front gate, the pair halted before the imposing iron bars.

"Ah! Watchman Giron Lajz," Cedez, greeted the male watchman with a flourish, her voice lilting with practiced charm. "Welcome to the Rimzadria Armory! Are you here to procure Bakelite armour for a division of the City Watch? I highly recommend..."

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Giron's dark eyes flickered between the two, cutting Cedez off mid-sentence with a sharp inquiry. "Which of you is the owner of this armor manufactorum?"

"That would be Lord Dave," the dark vixen replied, her brilliant smile unwavering.

Giron's gaze settled on Cedez. "And you are?"

“Cedez Astra, at your service,” with a small curtsy, she introduced herself. “I'm Lord Dave's Secretary."

The wolfkin female watchman took a step forward, her expression stern. "Lady Astra," she began, "I am sensing exceptionally high charisma magic radiating from you. Please do not use it to attempt to avoid our questions or dissuade the Watch from its case inquiry."

Cedez's sigh was a mixture of resignation and contrition. "My apologies, Watchman Laconi."

With a firm nod, Giron continued his questioning. "Lady Astra, we are here to investigate the actions of a certain individual known as the Night Bandit. This thief recently robbed Lord Burgundy's blacksmithing business, and our investigation has led us to believe that the perpetrator was wearing Bakelite armor during the crime."

Dave's heart skipped a beat, a sudden sense of unease washing over him. He glanced at Cedez, who maintained her composure, giving nothing away.

"We understand that this is the main Bakelite manufacturing facility in the city," Giron said, his gaze unwavering. "As such, we would like to request a list of all your clients who have purchased Bakelite armor in the past few months."

"Of course, Watchman," Cedez replied smoothly. "We will cooperate fully with your investigation. However, I must ask for a warrant to release our client list, as it contains sensitive information."

"May I come into the ward to scry your facility for a runaway slave?" Laconi asked.

Cedez's silver-blue eyes narrowed, her demeanor shifting from cooperative to defensive in an instant. "With all due respect, Watchman Laconi, I fail to see how that request is relevant to the investigation at hand," she countered, her voice steady and resolute. "Our business revolves around the production and sale of Bakelite armor, not harboring runaway slaves. We are more than willing to assist you in your pursuit of the Night Bandit, but we must ask that you respect the privacy and security of our facility. Our technique to make the Bakelite materia is an innovative secret known only to Lord Dave."

Watchman Giron's face flushed with anger as he listened to Cedez's objections. "Listen here, Miss Astra. There is no Lord Dave listed in the Book of High Lords of Shandria," he snapped, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Furthermore, we have received reports that you, an innate charisma mage, were using a scrying orb outside of the city gates to sell Bakelite armor while boasting how it was invincible to metal mages. We've tracked your armor-delivering Snail to this residence. If you come clean and tell us who the Night Bandit is, we will lessen your sentence."

Cedez's tail flicked irritably behind her. "Lord Dave is not a local nobleman, he only arrived in Shandria a few weeks ago. The signatures of Lord Nelvash and the Bondsmen Guild stamp can attest to my Lord’s regal status, as they have contracts of lease and worker purchase signed with him," she retorted, her tone icy. "As for the marketing of Bakelite's immunity to rustmancers, it is a simple fact, not proof of any wrongdoing on our part!"

She crossed her arms, her silver-blue eyes meeting Giron's challenging gaze. "We will not allow baseless accusations to jeopardize our reputation or the security of our facility. If you wish to proceed, I suggest you return with a proper warrant and a clearer line of inquiry."

Giron's eye twitched with frustration as he stared Cedez down, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Enough of this," he growled. "We have reason to believe that the runaway blacksmith slave Remicra Ognemeskra is hiding here. Where is she?"

Cedez raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging. "And what proof do you have of this claim?" she asked, unwilling to reveal any information without a fight.

"During our investigation, we employed a highly skilled tracker to examine a Bakelite set worn by Barrier witch Avanda,” Laconi said. “A tracker was able to identify Remicra's distinct scent on the produced armor, indicating that she has been involved in the manufacturing process or handling of the armor."

Dave's mind was racing, terrified if Cedez could devise a suitable response. He realized that the watchman's evidence was difficult to refute.

“Perhaps it was another dragoness?” Cedez asked. “How are you so certain that your sniffer didn’t make a mistake?”

“Because,” the wolfkin added, her tone smug, "I can clearly smell the runaway dragoness on… Lord Dave quite distinctly, and slightly on you as well." She paused for a moment, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "You cannot deny her presence any longer!"

Dave's heart started to hammer in his chest.

"Go on then," Giron smiled maliciously, looking like he was exceptionally certain that he had checkmated the pair. "Tell me that you do not know dragoness Remicra Ognemeskra. Give me a reason to call for reinforcements to bring down the ward!"