CH226 · Rewrite
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Chapter 226: Inner City Operation

“You got hold of the Holy Elixir?” Black Hammer sat up straight for the first time all evening.

Theo let the smile drop. “Not the Church’s drug. Something else — something that works on the demonic plague without requiring God’s blessing.” He set two small bags on the table. “The Church blames the witches and calls themselves the cure. It’s the oldest trick in the trade. Dead men don’t argue the point.” He pushed the bags toward Black Hammer. “Take those to Silver Ring and Pots. They’re somewhere in the building.”

Black Hammer picked up one bag, held it near his ear and shook it, then untied the cord and sniffed the contents. “No smell.”

“Give it to your people and see what happens.”

Black Hammer went. While he was gone, Hill sat at the table and stared at nothing, not touching the bags, not asking questions. Theo watched him from the corner of his eye and thought: an ordinary person would at least look at it. The threat of the plague was everywhere, and Hill sat like a man who’d already solved that particular problem — which, to be fair, he had. But the stillness was wrong for the setting. Too performed, and not performed well enough.

Even the girl does it better than he does.

A woman’s voice cut through from the next table. “Can that medicine really cure the demonic plague? Where did you get it?”

Better instincts. Theo took a sip of his wine and spoke loud enough for the room. “My Lord gave it to me at the palace. Other than His Highness, who else would dare go up against the Church?”

Black Hammer came back quickly, Silver Ring and Pots stumbling up from the basement behind him, wounds still open and weeping but the dark spots already fading from their skin. Both men went to their knees before Theo could say a word.

“Sir — the medicine — you saved our lives—”

“Go bandage those first.” Theo waved at the wounds. The water cured the plague; it couldn’t knit flesh. That would take a week the normal way. “Thank my employer, not me. If you want to clear your debt, complete this job. That might even change your status.”

Black Hammer had already run the arithmetic. His voice came out careful, excited, trying to sound neither. “Your employer wants us to sell this medicine?”

“The Church is using the plague for profit and power,” Theo said, his voice dropping. “My employer finds that offensive. A city this size shouldn’t be left with a handful of citizens cowering in churches, grateful for their own survival. And this medicine—” he drew two more water bags from his belt and set them on the table— “cannot be priced out of reach. Sell it at ten silver royals a bag.”

Silence. Black Hammer’s eyes went from the bags to Theo to the bags again.

Ten silver royals.”

“Six go to my employer. Four to you. Each bag treats five to six thousand people’s worth of doses — you’ll collect several hundred royals total after the split. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life.” He looked around the table. None of them objected. “One bag per buyer, taken on the spot. Nothing sold in advance, nothing taken away to resell later.”

Theo knew exactly what they were thinking. He let them think it.

The water cost nothing to produce, which meant the price point was entirely flexible. If he had simply given it away, he’d have needed to distribute it himself — less efficient, more visible, no multiplication of effect. By running it through Black Hammer, he reduced his own exposure and increased the volume of distribution simultaneously. Ten silver royals was accessible enough that most of the outer city’s residents could afford it. Whether Black Hammer actually charged ten or twenty or thirty was a question for another day; some of the medicine would find its way to the black market at inflated prices, and some portion would reach the inner city at rates that made street rats feel like merchants. Roughly half would probably reach sick people at the stated price.

That was enough. The goal wasn’t universal treatment — it was rupturing the Church’s narrative. The moment the people of King’s City understood that the Holy Elixir wasn’t unique, wasn’t the only path, wasn’t even special — that moment, every copper royal paid in desperation and every prayer of gratitude offered in exhausted relief became evidence that the Church had lied to them. The believers who had beggared themselves on the black market would be the first to feel it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Theo said, and let his voice cool slightly. “You want to hold some back and move it at a higher price. I won’t pretend I haven’t noticed, and I won’t pretend I’ll stop you.” A beat. “But my employer is not a forgiving man. The canal is deep, and it’s nearby. As long as you want to go on enjoying the pleasures of being alive, exercise some restraint.”

“What if someone else starts reselling?” Silver Ring asked.

“Simple. One bag per customer, drunk on the spot. No exceptions.” He turned back to Black Hammer. “Are we doing this?”

Black Hammer’s jaw worked. He looked at his four subordinates, found no objections, and smashed his fist on the table in something that was more surrender than resolve.

“I’ll take the business.”

“Good.” Theo rose. “Day after tomorrow, at sunset, a cart arrives at the tavern entrance. You have until then to arrange your distribution network and spread word about the medicine release. My employer doesn’t like failure.”

Day after tomorrow is the last day the First Army can stay. After they went, whatever happened inside King’s City would stay inside King’s City, beyond Roland’s reach. But not Theo’s concern — his concern was the mission, and the mission ended at the dock.


Hill caught up to him in the street outside.

“Won’t you meet my companions? They all want to move against Timothy.”

“I’m trusting you because you passed Nightingale’s verification,” Theo said. “That’s worth something, but not everything yet.” He kept walking. “If you hadn’t been caught today — if you’d gotten off that ship on your own terms — what would you have done next?”

Hill thought about it. “Gone back and told the others. Discussed it. I wasn’t sure whether to wait longer or go directly to His Highness Roland.”

“And your own opinion?”

A pause. “I think His Highness isn’t like most nobles.” He spoke carefully, as if he hadn’t said it aloud before and wasn’t sure it would survive the air. “Very few of them would waste this kind of effort and money on people who have nothing to offer. And the witches — he treats them as equals. If Timothy had been that kind of man, my wife wouldn’t be—” He stopped. A moment passed. “I’d rather serve His Highness directly.”

“Then go back and say nothing tonight. Act as if you were never at the pier.”

Hill looked up sharply. “Why?”

“Because a good spy keeps his secrets inside,” Theo said. “He doesn’t share them with his partners — especially not at a moment like this, when everything is moving quickly and any one of those partners might say the wrong thing to the wrong person. If you want to serve His Highness, you have a great deal to learn.” He didn’t slow his pace. “Starting with this: information shared is information that can be lost. Don’t tell them anything you don’t have to. Tell them you found nothing and you came home.”

Hill walked beside him for a moment without speaking.

“I understand,” he said at last.

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