The prisoner hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking. "High Priestess Lysara," he disclosed.

Jamie's gaze hardened. "So she's decided to make her move," he commented. "Well, that will suffice."

He turned away from the cell. Maria fell into step beside him.

"Are we going to release him?" Maria asked, her tone a blend of skepticism and concern.

Jamie wiped a smear of blood from his hands onto his already stained clothes. "If there's nothing more we need to ask, we can let him go," he replied.

"But he might return to the Inquisitors," Maria pointed out.

Jamie gave a wry smile, glancing sideways at her. "Not after you publish in the news that an Inquisitor collaborated with us to resolve the crisis," he said. "That should ensure he's persona non grata among his former allies."

Maria raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Fair enough," she conceded, a faint smile curling on her lips.

They moved up, leaving the dungeon behind. The cold dark gave way to the warmth of the mansion above.

"Seems I won't be finding peace anytime soon," Jamie remarked. His gaze drifting to a window that looked over the city.

"We won't be finding peace," Maria corrected gently. "But I advise against confronting her yet."

"Why not?" Jamie questioned, curiosity piqued. "Because of the leader of the Commercial Quarter?"

"There is no leader in the Commercial Quarter," Maria corrected. She had a mysterious smile playing on her lips.

Jamie frowned. "Isn't there someone they call the Veteran? Or something like that?"

Maria chuckled. "They believe there is," she explained. "But in truth, one of my soldiers poses as this so-called Veteran. He walks the district, pretending to be a seasoned leader. This way, when negotiations are needed, I can claim two-thirds of the profits. Also, none can claim I'm wielding too much control over the city."

"Impressive," Jamie admitted, rubbing his chin. "But why reveal this to me?"

Maria paused as they reached a grand archway leading to the gardens. She turned to face him, her emerald eyes serious. "I think you haven't realized the position I'm in," she said.

"And which position are you in?" Jamie inquired, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

She sighed, a shadow passing over her features. "I'm overseeing a city on the brink of bankruptcy," she began quietly. "An army incapable of defending us, crumbling walls, and cultists summoning dark gods in my gardens."

"Demi-gods," Jamie corrected.

"Demi-gods," Maria echoed with a faint, weary smile. "Did I recap that right?"

"I'd say so," Jamie acknowledged with a smirk on his face.

"Given these circumstances," Maria continued, "I don't have the luxury of keeping secrets. I need allies I can trust, which means being transparent with you."

"Fair enough," Jamie replied, appreciating her candor. "But why do you advise against focusing on Lysara?"

"At this moment, she believes she has won," Maria said. "She'll continue working in her corner, avoiding attention for the time being."

"However, if we attack her. Even if we wipe everything out in a single day. The church will investigate. We'll have two major churches trying to pull the rug out from under us." She finished the explanation.

Jamie sighed. "I get it," he replied. "I won't bring her down yet, but I'll start investigating her."

"Thank you," Maria said, offering a small, appreciative smile as they reached the edge of the garden. The path before them branched off toward the grand manor and the winding trail that led back to the city.

With a brief nod and a final exchange of parting words, they went their separate ways. Jamie headed toward the gate.

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Upon reaching the Golden Fiddle, Jamie pushed open the heavy wooden door; the familiar creak announced his arrival.

As he stepped inside, a few of his companions who hadn't joined the battle looked up. Relief was evident in their expressions.

"Jamie! You're back," called out Aldwin.

"Good to see you safe," added Bertram.

Jamie offered a weary smile. "It's good to be back," he replied, noting the absence of several key members. "How is everyone?"

"Thomas is still at home, resting," Aldwin informed him. "Thyra and Alonzo returned earlier with the cleric; they've gone to get some rest as well. Holz is upstairs with his wife. She's recovering, but it will take time."

Jamie nodded in approval. "They've earned the rest."

He moved toward an empty table near the hearth and sank into a well-worn chair. One by one, the others gathered around him.

Dieter sat nearby, his youthful features tense but eager. Beside him was Emyr, the gnome tinkerer, her eyes bright with both concern and curiosity. She fiddled, lost in thought, with a small gear in her gloved hands.

Camille lingered at the edge of the group, reclining in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other. Eliza stood behind the bar, polishing a glass but was clearly attentive to the gathering.

At this hour, the tavern was quiet, the usual bustle of patrons not yet begun. It was an ideal moment for Jamie to share what had transpired.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

Jamie recounted the events. The capture of several nobles complicit in dark schemes. The unsettling news that individuals were trying to seize control of Hafenstadt. The uncertain threat of the Inquisitors. His words painted a stark picture of the challenges they faced.

"Now we have nobles imprisoned," he concluded. "Someone is trying to capture the city, and we don't know if the Inquisitors will return."

A weighty silence settled over the group as they absorbed the implications.

Aldwin was the first to speak, his forehead creased with worry. "What are we going to do now?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of unease. "They... were quite strong." He touched a fading bruise from the fight.

Jamie met his gaze. "For now, we'll continue as we are," he replied. "Yet, I need someone to investigate the Crimson Veil."

As soon as Jamie spoke, Camille adjusted herself in her armchair.

"I can help," Dieter interjected.

Jamie had been about to assign the task to Camille, but, noticing Dieter's will, he paused to consider. "Emyr doesn't need as much of my protection," Dieter continued, his voice steady. "And I'm well-acquainted with the territory of the Crimson Veil."

Jamie weighed his words carefully. Dieter was experienced, and Jamie sensed his desire to prove himself. A mission for reconnaissance offered more chances to grow than just guarding Emyr's workshop.

"Very well," Jamie agreed, nodding. "But remember, do not interfere with their operations. Observe and report back to me with any developments."

"Understood," Dieter affirmed.

Turning his attention to the gnome tinkering with brass gears and copper wiring, Jamie addressed her. "Emyr, how is the weapon coming along?"

Emyr glanced up from her work, pushing oversized spectacles up the bridge of her nose. Her fingers, stained with oil and soot. "The prototype is almost complete," she chirped with a hint of pride. "Another day or two, and we'll be ready for testing."

"Any issues I should know about?" Jamie asked, catching the subtle furrow in her forehead.

"Nothing beyond what we've already discussed," Emyr replied, adjusting a tiny cogwheel. "We're still facing shortages of some key materials."

Jamie offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We'll proceed with the demonstration as planned. I'll invite some influential patrons. I'm certain they'll be persuaded to assist with funding and resources once they see what you've created."

Emyr nodded, though a shadow of concern lingered in her eyes. She seldom got involved in patronage politics. She preferred the reliability of her inventions over the unpredictability of people.

Jamie shifted his gaze across the room to where Aldwin lounged against a wooden beam, his arms crossed.

"And you, Aldwin," Jamie began, "is everything ready to start the smuggling?"

"All set, boss," Aldwin replied with a cheeky grin. "One thing. We found some unusual items down below during our last sweep." He hesitated. "I think it'd be best if you took a look yourself."

Jamie's brow arched inquisitively. "Very well. I'll make time to inspect whatever you've uncovered."

Pushing back his chair, Jamie rose to his feet, the weight of exhaustion settling on his shoulders. "If there's nothing else, I'm going to get some much-needed rest," he announced, attempting a wry smile. "Please save any new crises for after I've had at least ten hours of sleep."

His companions nodded and murmured their goodnights as Jamie made his way toward the staircase.

Ascending slowly, each creak of the worn wooden steps echoed in the quiet hallway. Jamie moved quietly past the shared quarters, pausing for a moment at the doorway. Inside, he saw Nik, Holz's wife, her face serene as she slept soundly in one of the beds. Holz slumped in a chair next to her. His head rested on the mattress near her hand. His body was awkwardly bent, yet he looked at peace.

Continuing down the corridor, Jamie reached his modest chamber.

He shrugged off his cloak, draping it over the back of a chair, and kicked off his boots with a sigh of relief. Lowering himself onto the bed, Jamie sank into the welcoming embrace of the mattress. He looked up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. The day's tiredness wrapped around him like a heavy blanket.

His thoughts drifted, lulling him further toward sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing deepened.

As the edges of consciousness began to blur, a sudden weight pressed upon his chest, jolting him awake.

"By the gods!" someone exclaimed, "Is this what dying feels like?"

When he opened his eyes, Jay was sitting on his chest.

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