The crowd swelled and shifted like waves breaking against the shipyard walls.

  Halrigg was no longer on the scaffolding. He had descended into the sea of men and women, shaking their calloused hands, hugging their wives, ruffling children’s hair. His smile never wavered. His voice reached every corner.

  I tugged the brim of my flat cap lower, my eyes bleeding faint red as I watched.

  The way he leaned in when a worker whispered. The way he laughed loud, but never too loud, careful not to drown out the speaker. The way his posture bent - not to condescend, but to equalize. To make a man feel taller when he was speaking with him.

  Charisma. Calculated.

  Or genuine.

  If he was lying, then he was a master of it.

  One charismatic man can convince a thousand to jump into hell itself.

  My vision dimmed as I cut Charlotte's eyes back. Too risky to keep it open this long in a place like this.

  By then, the crowd was beginning to disperse. The speeches were over, the fire stoked enough to last until next time. Halrigg slipped toward the far doors, his protectors tight at his side.

  I pushed through the mob. Careful. Slow. One step at a time, though the knot in my gut urged me to sprint. Every second I wasted, he slipped further into the dark.

  Finally, the tide thinned enough for me to reach the back doors. They had already closed.

  I pressed a hand against the metal, shoved it open -

  - and stepped into pitch black.

  No torches. No lamps. Just the smell of brine and steel, and the faint groan of shifting hulls outside.

  Something felt wrong.

  Very wrong.

  The shadows shook in agitation.

  My fingers twitched toward the revolver beneath my coat-

  Click.

  Cold iron pressed against the side of my neck.

  “Wouldn’t try it,” came Tarrow’s voice beside me. No slur in it this time. No laughter. Just ice.

  I froze, raising my hands slowly.

  “How long?” I asked evenly.

  “All you watch dogs act the same,” Tarrow said. His tone was flat, sober, yet filled with faint disgust. “Never ask for names. Never drink too much. Always watching from the sidelines.”

  So the drunk act had been just that - an act.

  I was almost shocked to see how organised they had become.

  I thought Halrigg was just ameuteur revolutionary with a ragtag group of disgusted workers. But no, these guys are cunning and experienced. Which begs the question...

  I looked to my side with narrow eyes, seeing the deadpan look of the man I though of nothing more than a drunk.

  Who's helped them?

  Mocking calm dripped into my words. “That why you never asked my name?”

  Silence.

  Not even the press of the barrel shifted.

  I thought of the shadows. Of letting them spill loose, coil into Tarrow’s throat before he could pull the trigger. But even then, the odds were slim. If he hadn’t shot me yet, it was because he wanted something.

  A lantern flared.

  The glow peeled the darkness back in thin strips, revealing two figures ahead. One was a brute, one of the four guards I’d seen on the scaffolding. The other - him.

  Halrigg.

  He stood with his hands folded behind his back, a thin smile curling his lips. The lamplight cast hard lines across his scarred face.

  “City watch dogs are easy to spot,” Halrigg said. His voice carried, calm but edged. “They lack the scars of the oppressed. They wear their coats too clean. And usually…” His grin widened slightly, eyes full of disdain. “They smell like the piss of the nobility.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I blinked slowly. God, I hope that part isn’t true.

  “I’m not city watch,” I said.

  Halrigg’s smile didn’t fade. “Don’t lie. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of your youth. You’ve got time yet to see the truth. Men like you can be turned. And if we take out anymore of you, an Inquisitior might be next.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he studied me. “You came for coin, didn’t you? You sell your loyalty to the highest bidder. If the watch can buy you, so can I.”

  I had to stop myself from smiling slightly at the Inquisitor part.

  Charismatic and intelligent? I have a feeling this man will be a nuisance in the future.

  “Wrong again,” I said, voice flat. “I’m not city watch. And the ones I serve…” I let the pause hang heavy. “…are far more dangerous.”

  That made his expression tighten. Just slightly.

  I pressed on, lowering my hands slowly. “But they don’t want you dismantled. They don’t want your little speeches silenced. Not for now, at least.”

  The silence stretched. Tarrow shifted behind me, the barrel still kissing my neck.

  Halrigg’s head tilted. His smile returned, thinner this time, cautious. “Then what do they want?”

  I met his eyes. “Information.”

  Halrigg’s smile froze when I spoke.

  “You knew when to reveal what happened in the East,” I said evenly, eyes narrowing beneath the brim of my cap. “Something the Empire suppresses harder than anything. Not just that - you even knew what they call themselves there.” I tilted my head. “The Syndicalists.”

  Halrigg’s grin twitched, but he didn’t answer.

  “It’s almost as if,” I continued, lips curling into a faint smile of my own, “you already knew something had gone wrong in the Noble District. Something you weren’t supposed to know. Almost like someone wanted you to.”

  His expression hardened. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

  I chuckled, the sound low, sharp. “You know exactly what I’m insinuating. And I’d bet the same people who handed you that information… are the same ones who gave you a gun.”

  Halrigg scoffed. “Guns aren’t rare. If you’d ever set foot in the slums, you’d know they’re easier to find than clean water.”

  “Maybe,” I said flatly. “But let’s not waste each other’s time.”

  Halrigg’s silence stretched. The pistol barrel against my neck shifted, the metal biting harder into my skin as Tarrow’s finger twitched. The man’s breath was steady. Patient. Waiting.

  Halrigg’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me - what happens if I just kill you here? Toss your body into the Valga. You disappear. We keep going.”

  I met his gaze. “Even if you could, there’s a trail behind me longer than the docks themselves. People would come. People far less patient than me. I’m not expendable like the ones before. You might die a martyr, Halrigg - but you wouldn’t be the only one to die.”

  His jaw clenched. For the first time, disgust twisted his face.

  Good. He understands the stakes now.

  I stepped forward slightly, ignoring the iron at my throat. “I’m not here to silence you. I only want answers. And trust me - the city has bigger priorities right now.” My gaze flicked toward him, sharp. “I don’t need to say what, do I?”

  Halrigg’s lips pressed thin. He looked away for a moment. Then sighed. “Fine.”

  He shifted his weight, voice lowering. “Those in the black market talk. I was given the information by… a friend.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What friend?”

  “I don’t know who they were,” he admitted. “But I know who they worked for. They call themselves the Silent Choir.”

  The name lodged itself in my mind. Elegant. Dangerous. Enigmatic.

  Halrigg continued. “They specialise in moving things - packages, weapons, letters. Information most of all. For the right price, they’ll deliver anything. To anyone. Anywhere.”

  “And this Silent Choir just… gave you information?” I asked.

  “Not directly. I was approached by one of them, hooded. They gave me an address. I went, and there was a letter waiting for me. A gift, they called it. A letter from someone claiming to be an ally of the working class.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of letter?”

  “One detailing what happened in the East. And instructions.” He paused, eyes flickering with unease. “When to reveal it. How to spread it. When the moment would cut deepest.”

  A cold knot twisted in my stomach.

  “The last pickup was this morning,” Halrigg said finally. “Another letter. It told me now was the time.”

  “Then the courier’s still in the apartment,” I muttered.

  He nodded. “Perhaps. But be careful. Whoever they are, they’re no common smuggler. Hooded, quiet. They carried an aura… like they had power at their back. Power most men wouldn’t dare cross.”

  Halrigg took out a small piece of paper from his pocket, writing something quickly before handing it to me.

  I said nothing, only nodded once as I stuffed the piece in my pocket.

  “That's enough. I think we're done here.”

  Halrigg exhaled slowly, motioning with a nod. Tarrow’s grip on the pistol didn’t loosen, but he began to shove me back toward the warehouse door.

  I let him guide me. But just before the threshold, I turned my head and locked eyes with Halrigg.

  “From one man to another,” I said coldly, “if you stay on this path, death is the only thing waiting. Either get out of the city - or die with your people. Consider that warning payment for your information.”

  Halrigg’s brow furrowed. His face twisted with something complicated - anger, disbelief, maybe even doubt. Still, he gave a clipped nod. “…Thank you.”

  The door creaked open.

  Tarrow shoved me through, the night air biting against my skin. We walked in silence until the outer edges of the docks came into view, the Valga’s black waters rippling under the moonlight.

  Finally, the barrel lifted from my neck.

  Tarrow stepped back, his pistol tucked into his jacket. His voice was low, but firm. “The oppressed won’t serve forever. The day’s coming when the boot is lifted. You should stand with us when it does.”

  I didn’t answer. My eyes fixed on the river.

  Salt hung heavy in the air, brine stinging my nose. The water smelled of steel and coal, ships coughing smoke into the stars. The sky above was veiled with smog, only a handful of stars pushing through.

  I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just reflected.

  Tarrow left without waiting for my answer. His boots clanged against the dock until the sound faded into nothing.

  I stood there, watching the Valga ripple under the moonlight. The water stank of salt and coal, oily waves catching the faint glow of ship lanterns. The sky above was choked with smog, only a handful of stars clawing their way through.

  I breathed in the brine.

  Nostalgic.

  Even in another world, humanity walks the same bloody footsteps.

  My hand tightened in my pocket.

  In any other circumstance, I would stand with you, Halrigg.

  The thought echoed, bitter and unwanted.

  But over it, louder, heavier, came the same eight words I had carried for years.

  The Empire must survive.

  Or everyone will die.

  Again. And again. Until it was no longer thought, but law.

  Regardless of my feelings. My ideals. My fate.

  That sentence would remain with me.

  Forever.

  Until my dying breath.