Moray Territory. The northern district post station.

  Werner closed the third ledger and set it on the table, stacking it with the previous two.

  He sat in the small hall of the post station. Outside the window the sky had darkened. Two candles burned on the table, throwing the shadow of the stacked ledgers long across the wall.

  His attendant stood by the door, saying nothing, waiting.

  Werner tapped the table lightly with his fingers, the rhythm slow and even, as though he were counting something.

  He was forty-three years old and had spent nineteen years in the Imperial Audit Bureau. There was no kind of ledger he had not seen. Fabricated ones. Under-reported ones. Double books. Deficits buried inside sub-accounts. He had seen too many clever people who believed their work was seamless, only to unravel in front of him.

  But the Moray family's accounts were clean in a way that made him faintly uneasy.

  It was not that there were no problems — of course there were. The main tunnel's output in the northern district had been declining for three months, and the accounts stated this plainly, every figure supported by corresponding worker records and survey reports. By the time the accident occurred, the main tunnel's daily yield had already fallen to thirty percent of its peak.

  So the scale of the accident could be explained.

  The ratio of Church casualties could also, just barely, be explained — the Inquisitor had led twelve Iron Guards deep into an already unstable main tunnel, encountered a secondary collapse, and all had perished.

  Everything could be explained.

  Werner picked up the second ledger again, opened it to a page somewhere in the middle, and stared at it for a moment.

  That was precisely where the problem lay.

  Three months ago, when the main tunnel's output began to fall, the Moray family had simultaneously poured additional manpower and resources into the two eastern branch tunnels. The decision made sound commercial sense. But the timing was too precise — precise enough to suggest someone had known in advance that the main tunnel would fail.

  Known in advance.

  Werner set the ledger down, leaned back in his chair, and watched the candlelight for a moment.

  He had his own channels within the Empire. Before coming, he had gathered a general picture of the recent changes in Moray Territory — after the old Earl fell gravely ill, the youngest son Allen had taken over, and around the same time, something subtle had begun to shift in the relationship between the Moray family and the Holy Cross Church.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Then the Church arrived. Then the Church's entire party perished. Then came the accident report.

  Werner picked up his teacup and drank. It had gone cold.

  "Go and tell young master Allen," he said to his attendant by the door, "that tomorrow morning, I would like to take a look at the northern branch tunnels."

  The attendant nodded and left.

  Werner looked back at the stack of ledgers.

  The accounts were clean. But the person behind the accounts was not simple.

  The following morning.

  Allen accompanied Werner along the entrance of the eastern branch tunnel. The miners kept their distance. A few stewards followed behind, holding ledgers in case they were needed.

  Inside the tunnel the light was dim, the air carrying the damp mineral smell particular to this place. Werner did not walk quickly. Every few steps he paused, looking at the rock face, at the ground, occasionally crouching to feel the direction of a vein.

  Allen followed alongside him and did not speak first.

  At a fork deep in the tunnel, Werner stopped and looked at a vein line in the rock wall, its colour slightly darker than the surrounding stone. He spoke without preamble.

  "Young master Allen, when did your father discover that the main tunnel's vein was nearing exhaustion?"

  Allen paused for less than a second. "About four months ago. We brought in an outside surveyor to conduct an assessment."

  "The surveyor's name?"

  "Karl Eich," Allen said. "He came from the Maruya port area. He has conducted assessments in several northern territories. His reputation is solid."

  Werner nodded and did not pursue it further. He walked on.

  At the tunnel exit, the two stood outside. The sky was grey-white, and the wind had picked up.

  Werner brushed the dust from his hands and looked at Allen. "I have gone through the accounts. No major issues." He paused. "However, there is one thing I want to ask you directly."

  Allen looked at him and waited.

  "The Church's three airships — where are the remains?"

  The air went quiet for a moment.

  "In the collapse zone of the main tunnel," Allen said, his tone unchanged. "After the tunnel caved in, the airships were docked on the platform at the tunnel entrance and were buried along with it. We have neither the means to excavate nor the authority to handle Church property without permission. So nothing has been touched."

  Werner listened, expressed neither doubt nor belief, simply nodded, and shifted his gaze to the terrain of the mining area in the distance.

  "I will need approximately two more days to wrap up," he said. "I have troubled you, young master."

  Allen returned to the Earl's manor, entered the study, closed the door, leaned against it, and stood with his eyes closed for a moment.

  Then he spoke under his breath.

  "Master, he asked about the location of the airship remains."

  The seed warmed. Del's voice landed in his consciousness.

  ——What did you tell him?

  "That they were buried in the collapse zone."

  ——Good. Did he believe it?

  "Hard to tell." Allen frowned. "Master, he doesn't seem to be genuinely investigating the accident. Every time he asks something, it's never the most critical question directly — he circles around it and watches your reaction."

  Silence for a few seconds.

  ——What he is gathering is not evidence. It is you.

  Allen was taken aback.

  ——He already has enough evidence. What he wants to determine now is whether you are someone he can work with, or someone he needs to guard against.

  "Then what should I do next?"

  ——Arrange a meeting with him on your own initiative. Not in an official setting — somewhere more relaxed. Let him feel that you are extending goodwill, but don't make it too obvious.

  Allen was quiet for a moment. "Master, I want you to appear as well."

  On the other end of the seed, the pause lasted longer than usual.

  ——Why?

  "Because," Allen said slowly, "if I face him alone, he will only see me as a young master who hasn't fully grown into his role. But if you are present, he will reassess how much lies behind this territory."

  Another silence.

  Finally, Del's voice came back. Two words only.

  ——Arrange it.