The city did not recover from the riot.
It only pretended to.
By morning, the streets looked calmer. Soldiers patrolled in organized formations, merchant stalls reopened under heavy guard, and civilians moved cautiously through districts as if routine had returned. But Vale knew better. Calm now felt brittle, stretched thin over exhaustion and resentment. Hunger still gnawed at the city, and hunger always returned louder the second time.
He stood near the eastern barricade where workers repaired damage from the previous day’s chaos. Broken wagons were dragged away. Bloodstains scrubbed from stone. Crushed grain swept into piles to be burned rather than wasted further. Everywhere he looked, people avoided meeting each other’s eyes.
Trust was gone.
Lyn leaned against a supply crate beside him, chewing on a strip of dried meat that was barely enough to count as breakfast.
“Feels quieter,” she muttered.
Vale shook his head.
“Feels tired.”
She glanced around.
“What’s the difference?”
“Tired people stop shouting,” he said quietly. “Then they start making bad decisions.”
A squad of soldiers marched past escorting two merchants arguing loudly about compensation for stolen goods. Neither noticed Vale watching them. Everyone was too focused on their own losses.
Lyn followed his gaze.
“You think riots start again today?”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Optimistic.”
He almost smiled.
Before he could respond, Marrow approached from the crowd, his expression grim. The old hunter rarely looked surprised anymore, but something in his posture now made Vale straighten.
“What happened?” Vale asked.
Marrow lowered his voice.
“Another convoy hit.”
Vale’s stomach tightened.
“Outside the walls?”
Marrow shook his head.
“Inside.”
Silence stretched.
Lyn blinked.
“…Inside the city?”
Marrow nodded.
“Supply wagons moving between districts. Ambushed.”
Vale frowned.
“By rioters?”
“No.”
Marrow hesitated.
“Organized.”
That was worse.
Vale folded his arms.
“Where?”
“Near southern canal roads.”
Vale turned immediately.
“Show me.”
The southern district smelled of smoke and stagnant water.
Canals ran through this part of the city, carrying waste and runoff away from central districts. Warehouses lined the roads, many repurposed to store incoming food shipments.
Soldiers already blocked the street when Vale arrived. Civilians gathered behind barricades, whispering nervously.
A captain recognized Vale and waved him through.
“You again,” the officer muttered tiredly. “Busy week.”
Vale ignored the comment.
“What happened?”
The captain gestured ahead.
“Convoy ambushed moving supplies from military storehouse to civilian distribution.”
Vale stepped forward.
Two wagons lay overturned in the street. One burned slowly, smoke curling upward. Bodies lay nearby—soldiers and civilians both.
He crouched beside the nearest corpse.
A guard.
Throat cut cleanly.
No monster attack.
Precision.
Lyn swallowed behind him.
“That’s not riot violence.”
“No.”
Vale stood and scanned surroundings.
Crates smashed open.
Food gone.
Not destroyed.
Taken.
The captain spoke quietly.
“Attack lasted less than a minute.”
“How many attackers?”
“Unknown.”
“Witnesses?”
The officer grimaced.
“Dead.”
Vale frowned.
“Convenient.”
The captain nodded grimly.
“They knew where the convoy would be.”
Silence followed.
Vale stepped toward wagon wreckage.
Tracks marked the mud.
Boot prints.
Multiple individuals.
Disciplined movement.
He crouched again, studying marks carefully.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Not starving refugees.
Not rioters.
Trained.
Lyn whispered:
“Bandits?”
Vale shook his head.
“Bandits don’t operate inside walls.”
Marrow spoke quietly.
“Someone helped them.”
Vale straightened slowly.
Yes.
Someone opened routes.
Someone leaked convoy paths.
Inside job.
His jaw tightened.
The hunter outside waited.
And now something inside weakened the city further.
The captain crossed his arms.
“Command thinks riots escalated.”
Vale met his gaze.
“No.”
The officer frowned.
“Then what?”
Vale gestured around.
“This was planned.”
Silence stretched.
Understanding dawned slowly.
The captain cursed under his breath.
“Traitors.”
Vale nodded.
“Yes.”
Behind them, a wounded soldier groaned as healers carried him away.
Lyn glanced around uneasily.
“Why steal food instead of destroying it?”
Vale answered quietly.
“To sell.”
Marrow’s eyes widened.
“Black market.”
Exactly.
Someone profited from chaos.
Vale exhaled slowly.
“Who controls distribution routes?”
The captain answered reluctantly.
“Merchant Consortium coordinates shipments.”
Vale frowned.
Meaning merchants either incompetent…
Or involved.
Lyn muttered:
“This keeps getting worse.”
Yes.
Because enemies multiplied.
Monsters outside.
Saboteurs inside.
And hunger everywhere.
Vale straightened.
“I need survivor testimony.”
The captain hesitated.
“One survived.”
Vale turned sharply.
“Where?”
“Field clinic.”
The wounded guard lay pale beneath bloodstained bandages.
His breathing rattled as healers worked around him.
Vale approached quietly.
The man’s eyes fluttered open.
Recognition flickered.
“You…”
Vale crouched beside him.
“Tell me what happened.”
The guard swallowed painfully.
“They knew where we’d be.”
Vale nodded.
“How many?”
“Five… maybe six.”
“Uniforms?”
The guard hesitated.
“…Masks.”
Vale frowned.
“Voices?”
“Local.”
Silence stretched.
Meaning attackers belonged here.
The guard’s hand trembled as he grabbed Vale’s sleeve.
“They killed civilians too.”
Vale’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
The guard’s voice weakened.
“No witnesses.”
His grip slackened.
Healers moved him aside gently.
Vale stood slowly.
Lyn watched his expression carefully.
“You look angry.”
He nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
Because riots were chaos.
This was strategy.
Marrow muttered:
“Someone wants the city weaker.”
Vale turned toward the exit.
“Yes.”
And he intended to find out who.
Outside, smoke still drifted from the ambushed convoy.
Citizens whispered in fear.
Soldiers tightened patrols.
But Vale already knew—
This wasn’t random.
And somewhere in the city—
Someone benefited from starvation.
And somewhere beyond the walls—
The hunter watched prey sabotage itself.
Learning.
Waiting.
Preparing.
Because collapse came faster when enemies worked from inside.
By late afternoon, the southern districts felt different.
Fear lingered after riots.
But now suspicion joined it.
People watched each other more closely. Conversations stopped when soldiers passed. Merchants locked doors earlier than usual, guards doubled at storehouses, and whispers spread through alleys like smoke.
Traitors inside the walls.
The idea infected everything.
Vale moved through narrow canal roads with Lyn and Marrow trailing behind. Soldiers escorted wagons carrying wounded back toward central districts, while workers cleared debris from the ambush site.
But Vale wasn’t watching the cleanup.
He was watching patterns.
Sabotage required information.
Information meant leaks.
And leaks followed routes.
He stopped near a narrow intersection overlooking three connected warehouse alleys.
Lyn nearly walked into him.
“What?”
Vale gestured subtly.
“Supply routes.”
She frowned.
“So?”
He crouched, tracing lines in the dirt with his finger.
“Convoys leave military storage here. Travel here. Split toward civilian districts.”
Marrow leaned closer.
“And?”
Vale tapped the ambush point.
“Perfect choke.”
Silence followed.
Lyn folded her arms.
“So attackers knew exact route.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning someone told them.”
“Yes.”
Marrow frowned.
“But who?”
Vale stood slowly.
“People who schedule deliveries.”
Silence.
Then Lyn said:
“…Merchants.”
Not all.
But enough.
Vale exhaled slowly.
“Or someone inside their network.”
Marrow scratched his beard.
“Merchants profit from food shortages.”
Lyn blinked.
“…You think they’re causing shortages?”
Vale answered quietly.
“Somebody is.”
Because scarcity drove prices.
Prices drove control.
And control made people powerful.
Behind them, shouting erupted again near canal bridges. Soldiers dragged two men away as civilians hurled accusations.
“Food thieves!”
“Saboteurs!”
Vale sighed.
Fear needed targets.
Soon innocent people would die for convenience.
He turned.
“We need proof.”
Lyn frowned.
“Proof of what?”
“That attacks are coordinated.”
“And then?”
Vale’s expression hardened.
“Then we stop them.”
Evening fell as they entered merchant quarter.
Unlike refugee districts, these streets remained cleaner. Guards patrolled in polished armor. Doors stayed closed behind reinforced shutters.
But tension hung here too.
Profit thrived in stability.
And stability was dying.
Vale approached a familiar warehouse guarded by mercenaries.
One stepped forward.
“District restricted.”
Vale met his gaze calmly.
“I’m not asking.”
Recognition dawned.
The guard hesitated.
Then stepped aside reluctantly.
Inside, merchants argued loudly around a table stacked with supply manifests.
The plump merchant from before looked up and frowned.
“You again.”
Vale walked closer.
“Convoy attacked.”
Merchant scoffed.
“Yes, tragic.”
Vale stared at him.
“You lost supplies.”
The merchant shrugged.
“Losses happen.”
Silence stretched.
Lyn muttered behind him:
“Not bothered?”
Vale folded his arms.
“Food prices rising again tomorrow?”
The merchant smiled thinly.
“Scarcity increases value.”
Vale studied him carefully.
“You’re not worried?”
Merchant gestured dismissively.
“City survives.”
“At what cost?”
“At profitable cost.”
Silence hung.
Vale leaned slightly forward.
“Your convoys keep getting attacked.”
Merchant shrugged.
“Unfortunate coincidence.”
Vale’s eyes narrowed.
“You schedule routes.”
Merchant’s smile tightened.
“Yes.”
“And someone keeps intercepting them.”
“Yes.”
“So either you’re incompetent…”
Silence sharpened.
“…or someone inside your network leaks routes.”
Merchant’s eyes hardened.
“You accuse us?”
Vale shrugged slightly.
“I’m asking.”
Merchant laughed.
“Ridiculous.”
But sweat glistened faintly on his brow.
Vale noticed.
Behind him, Lyn whispered:
“He’s lying.”
Vale ignored her.
Instead, he scanned room.
Merchants avoided eye contact.
One man shifted nervously.
Vale noticed.
The merchant leader followed his gaze.
Too quickly.
Interesting.
Vale spoke calmly.
“We’re investigating.”
Merchant crossed his arms.
“Investigate elsewhere.”
Vale met his gaze.
“I will.”
Then turned and left.
Lyn followed, whispering urgently.
“That guy knows something.”
“Yes.”
“Why leave?”
Vale answered quietly.
“Because pressure makes people careful.”
Silence stretched.
Then Lyn grinned slightly.
“So we follow nervous guy.”
Vale almost smiled.
Night deepened.
Merchant quarter quieted as curfew approached.
Vale and Lyn waited in shadow across the street from the warehouse.
Marrow remained behind; stealth wasn’t his strength.
Rain began falling lightly.
Streets emptied.
Then—
Warehouse door opened.
A thin merchant clerk stepped out, glancing around nervously before hurrying down the road.
Lyn nudged Vale.
“That one.”
Vale nodded.
They followed at a distance.
The clerk moved quickly, ducking through alleys, avoiding patrol routes. Not random wandering.
Meeting.
Vale’s suspicion hardened.
The clerk finally stopped near canal warehouses.
A shadow detached from darkness.
Another figure.
Hooded.
Armed.
Conversation began quietly.
Vale moved closer, staying hidden behind stacked crates.
Fragments of conversation drifted.
“…next convoy…”
“…north route…”
“…payment…”
Vale’s jaw tightened.
Proof.
Lyn whispered:
“Told you.”
Vale motioned silence.
Coins exchanged hands.
Then—
The hooded figure stepped into lamplight briefly.
A scarred face.
Not merchant.
Not soldier.
Professional.
Raid leader.
The same type that attacked convoys.
The clerk whispered urgently.
“…walls weaker… riots spreading…”
Vale frowned.
They weren’t just stealing food.
They were monitoring city stability.
The hooded man nodded.
“…soon.”
Then both turned—
—and spotted movement.
Too late.
The raider grabbed the clerk and shoved him aside, sprinting into darkness.
Vale cursed and gave chase.
Boots splashed through canal water as he pursued fleeing figure through narrow alleys. Rain slicked stone, slowing movement.
The raider vaulted a crate.
Vale followed.
Pain shot through his ribs.
Ignore it.
Ahead, the man turned sharply, throwing a knife.
Vale twisted aside; the blade sliced his sleeve instead.
Authority surged instinctively.
Pressure pushed outward.
The raider stumbled.
Vale tackled him hard into the ground.
Both crashed into mud.
The raider fought viciously, elbow slamming toward Vale’s throat.
Vale blocked, slammed his fist into the man’s jaw.
Stunned.
Pinned.
He grabbed the man’s collar.
“Who do you work for?”
The raider spat blood.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Vale tightened grip.
“Try again.”
Silence.
Then the man smirked.
“City’s already dead.”
Vale’s eyes hardened.
“Who pays you?”
The man laughed weakly.
“Not merchants.”
Vale froze.
“What?”
The raider grinned through broken teeth.
“Someone bigger.”
Then his eyes widened.
Vale felt movement too late.
A crossbow bolt slammed into the raider’s throat from the shadows.
The man convulsed.
Collapsed.
Dead.
Vale spun.
But the shooter vanished into darkness.
Silence settled.
Rain continued falling.
Lyn arrived moments later, breathless.
“You got him?”
Vale stared at corpse.
“No.”
“Who shot him?”
Vale scanned rooftops.
“Someone who didn’t want him talking.”
Silence stretched.
Lyn frowned.
“This is bigger than merchants.”
Vale nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Because someone coordinated attacks.
Someone with resources.
Someone inside the city.
And someone ensuring silence.
Rain washed blood into canal water.
Vale exhaled slowly.
The hunter waited outside walls.
But now—
Something else hunted inside them.
And the city stood between predators on both sides.
