CH487 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 487: The Guarding Shield

By dusk, the ship reached the inland river port near Longsong Stronghold.

Petrov had learned of their arrival and was waiting at the dock with his retinue. On returning to the castle, Roland found a welcoming banquet laid out across the entire ground-floor hall. Since taking possession of Longsong Stronghold, he had noticed a change in himself at precisely these moments: watching nobles raise their glasses to one another, he felt the cost of each bottle as a subtraction from his own accounts.

He made brief greetings to the eldest son of the Honeysuckle Family and cut straight to the matter. “Have the Rats resurfaced?”

“From the reports we’ve received, it appears so.” Petrov guided him with a gesture toward a quieter corner of the hall. “The criminals we’ve arrested recently are mostly operating alone—thieves, burglars, a few murders. We’ve been hanging them in the public square. Because you required us to act only on verified evidence, the number actually executed is a fraction of what’s been reported. The verification work takes considerable time. And beyond that…” Petrov paused. “We’ve run into a more serious problem.”

“Go on.”

“Someone is openly defying your policies, Your Highness.” Concern was plain in Petrov’s voice. “Earl Medde knows the details. I’ll have him explain it directly.”

Rene came at once, bowing to Roland before beginning. “Something serious has happened on North Street in the outer town. Sheriff Vader would call it a serial killing case.”

“And so would I, as it happens,” Roland said. “Continue.”

“Since three days ago, a resident has been found dead in his home every night,” Rene said, his voice deliberate. “All male. All living alone, without family. And without exception, all had applied for work through the City Hall.”

Roland’s brow tightened. “Registered employees?”

“If day laborers count as full-time, yes.” The young Earl nodded. “In each victim’s room, a painting had been made on the wall in blood—a crown and a cross, combined. When I confirmed with the City Hall that all victims appeared on the same list—workers about to be sent to the Redwater District for construction—the pattern became clear.”

“Their intention being—”

“To destroy your enrollment program, Your Highness,” Rene said. “Rumors have started moving through North Street: apply for work through the City Hall and you will become a target. Currently the story is confined to that one block, but if it reaches the other districts, it could shut down construction entirely.”

“I agree with his assessment,” Petrov added. “Our recruitment numbers are already below expectations. There are applicants withdrawing their names, claiming physical inability to travel—they’re asking the City Hall to remove them from the roster. The effect is real.”

Roland was quiet for a moment. “Any leads on the suspect?”

Rene hesitated. “There are no witnesses. We don’t know where to begin.”

“How did you handle cases like this before?”

“The patrol team?” The Earl looked uncomfortable. “They had no standard procedure. In a prominent case—one where the victim’s family appealed to the Lord, and the Lord chose to make a public showing of justice—they would pressure the Black Street gangs to hand someone over. Whether that person was actually guilty was not always verified. If the victim was a foreigner or lived alone, the patrol typically let it go.”

Handing over jurisdiction to the Rats. Roland felt the old exasperation sharpen into something colder. No wonder every man on the street knew the gang bosses had as much authority as the official lord. In this era there was no such thing as criminal investigation—no witnesses meant a suspended case, and a suspended case meant nothing. That was only ever true for commoners, of course. Border Town had been under Nightingale’s watch for long enough, and its population was simple enough, that crimes had always been resolved quickly. He had grown complacent about how rare that was.

Rene didn’t say it, but he likely thinks my insistence on verified evidence is unreasonable. Roland set that thought aside. He would not allow scapegoats, not in his territory.

“Starting tomorrow, the Security Bureau takes over this case. All you need to do is cooperate.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Rene’s relief was visible.


After the banquet, Roland climbed to the top-floor study of the castle.

It looked nothing like the room he remembered. The shelved walls had been cleared and rebuilt; a couch, tea table, and cushions had been added. Behind the desk, the wall had been opened and two French windows installed—not crystal glass, but wide enough to expand the view considerably. Through the faint tint of the panes, Roland looked out over Longsong Stronghold in its darkness and nodded.

Petrov had followed the instructions carefully. Choosing him as deputy was the right call.

“How do you intend to handle this?” Nightingale stepped out of the Mist and settled onto the desk, legs crossed.

“I’m not going to handle it at all.” Roland smiled. “The primary task tomorrow is getting the returning nobles organized into a secondary City Hall—departments established, people assigned, structure in place. The sooner that’s done, the sooner Soraya can begin drawing identification cards. The criminal investigation is yours.”

“Mine?”

“You head the Security Bureau. How to solve a case is entirely your decision. The City of Neverwinter’s entire police department answers to you. Both Vader and Rene are your subordinates.”

“But—didn’t you always say that departmental authorities should be separated, and that administrative ranks should be equal?” She looked puzzled. “This arrangement seems to put the Security Bureau above the City Hall.”

“Territorial security is the top priority, which is exactly why you report directly to me,” he said. “Not only the police department—all oversight of the City Hall and the army passes through you. Each department operates independently and doesn’t interfere with the others. But something has to act as the web that binds them—that prevents abuse of power, that stops corruption from rotting the structure from the inside. You must have heard it said: the firmest defense collapses from within.” He met her eyes. “You are the most powerful shield against all of that. My personal safety and the security of this territory—both are in your hands.”

Nightingale said nothing for a moment.

Outside the French windows, Longsong Stronghold lay dark and still, the distant lights of the outer town scattered like embers across the black ground.

Discussion

Suggest a change