"This is all I have to report, for now."

  "When do I expect to hear from you, Captain Melvich?"

  "We are doing our best to make progress within the month." Rinvar went to the desk and returned scattered photographs and maps to their respective envelopes. "I'll make it a point to report to you, Your Grace, whether there's anything new to report or none. There may be times when I lack the time to do so, but you can always send for me by speaking with the director."

  "We will always be grateful, Captain." Agnes of Schild looked at him earnestly; her eyes closed, as they were one with a pair of smiling lips. "Any information that can lead to Cecil's whereabouts is invaluable."

  "Not that I am sharing in gossip, Your Grace, but reports told me of your daughter. How is she holding?"

  "Euphemia is serving the local parish as we speak. It is for her best this way, given that we do not know if the enemy is after the family."

  "I see. I'm glad to know that the city is still safe from gangs."

  "We intend to keep it that way." Agnes stood up and turned her back, looking at the sunlit garden beyond the window. "Alberta isn't a large city, barely surpassing the Empire's largest towns, in terms of population. The domains of other families are not doing well, containing these... hmm, undesirables. I wouldn't be surprised if small cells are formed here as we speak. That's a matter we would have to deal with – when they are found."

  "I'll have to agree with you on that." Rinvar took his hat from the chair and returned, standing at the center of Lady Agnes' desk. "I'd love to stay and talk more, Your Grace. I will have to take my leave and make my way back to the Capital."

  "I'll send for my daughter to pray for the success of your investigation. This is not only good for our family, but also for the entire land."

  "Thank you, Your Grace. Those prayers are going to come in handy when He answers them."

  "And also, Captain, send my warmest regards to Erik." Agnes' platinum-white hair gave off a false sparkle when sunlight struck it. "Perhaps we can arrange a simple meeting of the families when all this is over."

  "Father..." Rinvar almost evaded the old duchess's eyes when he heard the name. "I'll... I'm sure he'll love hearing that. If you'll excuse me."

  ????

  The return trip to Blaurosen was spent on a few photographs and a map. Rinvar had to deal with a bumpy ride on his way out of Alberta. He wondered what had come to him to even dare to take the longer journey back to the capital by land. A ship from the city port would have been a vastly more comfortable commute.

  He spent most of the time staring at the pictures of the escape tunnel and the seaward cavern mouth, and then at the map of Kriemreich. Rinvar had stared at the photos so long that they stopped meaning anything. What once looked like proof now resembled illusion. The question kept playing in his mind with every picture his eyes focused on. Strands of brown dissolved with an orange yellowness as the investigator raked his hair in the sunlight.

  He heard the whirring sound of a machine from above. It was one of those 'autogyros': teardrop-shaped vehicles made to fly with the use of one large and one small rotor. This unit carried the emblem of the Signals but was not affiliated with any house. Rinvar ordered the convoy to stop, allowing the flying machine to stay in midair at a fixed position.

  "Farin is being thrifty again..."

  "A letter to Rinvar De Melvich." The courier's voice crossed between the rotor noise and the funnel-like metal implement he spoke on. A small metal case was tossed his way, the captain catching it with two hands. "Would you like a return message to the sender?"

  "Yes. Do tell Farin the pfennig-hoarder could have chosen a more discreet delivery service. Full stop," Rinvar shouted back.

  "I heard, 'Farin, the pfennig-hoarder could have chosen a more discreet delivery service'. Stop. Correct?" The messenger's voice vibrated through the engine, though Rinvar almost heard that the sounds were becoming the same.

  "Yes, my good man. That's correct."

  "Very well, good day, sir."

  A stronger downthrust current of air whipped before the aerial mailman flew out of the open field. Rinvar did not bother seeing where the courier had gone and immediately went to the business of opening the metal case, followed by the envelope inside. It read:

  Rinvar,

  New plans. We'll stay at Altrecht. Possible new lead. Let's talk there.

  - Farin

  He turned around and spoke to the awaiting soldiers behind him:

  "New plans. We're going to Altrecht. We all know how to get there, right?"

  He was answered with nods. His men went back inside the cars. It meant he had to inhale more steam coming from these armored car engines for longer. The cold weather turned out to be a blessing, as these sloped metal plates tend to soak up heat a little faster.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Traveling to Altrecht from the city of Alberta was three hours; half of this was spent navigating the ruin-littered streets. The administrative building was barricaded with sandbags and barbed wire; a small throng of people outside held placards that read 'higher wages', 'don't move all jobs to the cities', and 'what about our livelihood?'. Yawning town guards and watchful officers stood behind roughshod emplacements of wood with strapped-on metal plates for additional protection.

  "The Glansheims are having their hands full on this. Why not remove that mayor from office?"

  Someone smashed a bottle against the hull of Rinvar's armored transport. A soldier climbed up the car's blister turret and only found the feet of young men who scurried away at the sight of an occupant looking back at them. The streets smelled of urine and burnt wood; there were places where the scent of broth wafted about, but it had more steam in it than meat or anything edible. Their engines purred into a guarded gate where the street was much cleaner compared to the rest of the town. Rinvar handed his identification over to the sentry in charge. A loud buzzer signaled their clearance to enter; the metal gates moved away and allowed the convoy to pass.

  Rinvar's stay was uneventful at best. His quarters were a simple room; its walls were bare except for some of the maps he had pinned onto them using magnets. Farin Arinas arrived the next morning. Rinvar decided to wait for her in the conference room, with everything set up for the director to see and read.

  "Late, I see, Director."

  "You look excited to see the- what was that...? Oh, the pfennig-hoarder now?" Farin took off her gloves and put them in her coat pocket; the fingers hung limp outside. "How was your little island trip?"

  "I was given a very 'personal' view of the site. The whole trip gave me new headaches to think about." Rinvar approached his superior and threw his envelope on the desk.

  Its contents were scattered all over the tabletop; new documents were mixed with the original information pieces Rinvar took along when he embarked for the Schweiglands' fortress. Only six of the pictures and the nautical chart of Kriemreich's southern holdings were brought to Farin's attention.

  "The Fox is living up to his name indeed. We've found this route hidden below the ruins of Building Four."

  "An underground harbor, I see..." Farin took notice of the wooden docks found in the photograph of the cavern mouth.

  "We found ropes that belonged to a boat or ship. What is weird about it is that the current would have taken any boat right at where Admiral Feuerstein's flotilla was."

  "Escaping by boat or ship is impossible without being seen by the Albertans..."

  "Exactly, Farin."

  "Could they have swum to another island?"

  "That's mostly out of the question," Rinvar answered. "They wouldn't last long from one end of the Arentz to the other. Besides, there is a possibility of Lord Cecil being their prisoner. We got all the bodies out of the scene; none of them were wearing the general's armor."

  "They used a boat, or some other vessel, to flee from the attack after all." Farin made a spinning motion of her index finger on the nautical chart's surface. "Do you think that the Fox has a boat that can go underwater?"

  "And how will they steer such a ship without being seen by the navy bobbing about? The Scientific Ministry discarded that idea a long time ago."

  "I've read about these new models from the Federation, Captain. They are shown to last at least a little longer than what our Metallwerk had come up with." Farin shrugged her shoulders and looked at the map again. "If he managed to keep a fortress hidden for months, there's little doubt he'd have the money to hide one of those advanced boats from us."

  "Interesting point, Farin, but then..." Rinvar couldn't take his eyes off the map. "Rather than rack my brains out on thinking how the guy got the best of the Albertans, the next question to that would be where the Fox fled to...?"

  "That I can offer you a bit of a lead." The director pointed to the towns of Altrecht, Wulfstadt, and Echscholz that stretched along the K?n River tributary facing the Arentz Sea.

  "The Syndicate Towns again?"

  "Looks like the gangs are at their usual. We've arrived late at a warehouse massacre in Echscholz. Our informers identified the dead as members of the Ebon Hand."

  "Never heard of them. Probably small-timers that got in a tangle with the bigger fish." Rinvar hung his chin on his left knuckles. "Any survivors?"

  "None. All of them died on the spot. There was this weird story of a warrior with an unbelievably long sword, but that's something else."

  Rinvar looked away from Farin when she was telling him the last parts of what she said. There was no connection found with those events; the Gray Fox had retreated and was probably recovering from his losses at the Schweiglands. His forces were not in fighting shape to battle other gangs, and the Fox was not known to waste time dealing with smaller, armed groups. The Ebon Hand could have been a potential customer if its members had not been offered any of the Gray Fox's merchandise before.

  But there could be a lead in any of the towns. There might be someone who could at least give Rinvar a clue to where he should start his search for the crime lord.

  The three towns were under the jurisdiction of one of the less cooperative First Families. How they came to be 'syndicate towns' in the first place was due to a lack of development priorities. Domain army units that could have been used to drive out the brigands were concentrated on the easternmost cities, where the Glansheims spent most of their time. Errant constables considered the towns the last place they'd wanted to be deployed. Although relatively peaceful during the day, the nighttime violence of these locales kept the police force at full alert. They would often run into skirmishes with the armed groups; battles usually ended with the loss of a few lives.

  "Farin, I think I would be going there to see if we can get something on our man. Any suggestions on where to start?"

  "The Town Guards caught a few stragglers from the Ebon Hand incident. I'm unsure if they had anything to do with what took place, or if they could be unlucky riffraff who happened to be around. They're kept at the prison in Connsbruick."

  "Not so nearby..." Rinvar straightened his back and pushed his seat away from the table. "That will do, but this is going to be a long trip around the empire."

  The investigator stretched his arms and looked at the ceiling. He felt less tired now, for there could be something that would set him on the right path to locate his elusive target. In the room's silence, he heard his father's gruff voice; the snobbish, barrel-chested commander's persona coming at the worst time of day.

  Erik De Melvich's face was drawn in his mind; an angled head sporting a pair of almond eyes in a fierce stare focused on him. His grin was seemingly set aflame by the stands of a trimmed, reddish beard. The captain has not heard from him since the start of his appointment as investigator of the Schweiglands Incident. The old general was in his usual self, as Rinvar had come to know. Rarely, the man who would walk up to him and offer his opinion on things, Erik was the type who would speak up only if one would make time to pay him a visit at his offices.

  Rinvar might drop by soon, but the job must be done first. He wouldn't want to listen to his tirades on the captain's profession just yet.