Northreach – Paper Factory Ruins. Morning – Post-Explosion.
Black smoke still billowed from the wooden warehouse that was now reduced to charcoal. The acrid smell of burnt chemicals stung the nose.
Sir Riven stood amidst the debris. His face was blackened with soot. His eyes were red, suppressing rage.
Beside him, Grimm (who had just returned from the Capital delivering packages) was inspecting the blast residue.
"This was no workplace accident," Grimm reported, picking up a partially burnt fuse. "The fuse was placed in the cleaning alcohol storage barrel. This was intentional."
"Casualties?" Riven asked heavily.
"Three employees with burns. Fortunately, no deaths as it happened at night during the shift change," Grimm replied.
Riven clenched his fists. "Who was on night shift?"
"Two people. Flick (the agile youth from recruitment) and Mr. Silas (the old print master)."
"Summon them. Now."
Emergency Interrogation Room (Weapon Warehouse).
Flick and Silas sat on wooden chairs. Both were trembling with fear.
Flick looked restless, his eyes darting wildly.
Silas looked down, twisting the hem of his dirty robe.
Riven entered. He didn't shout. He simply sat on a weapon crate, placing his battleaxe on the floor with a heavy CLANG.
"I don't like beating around the bush," Riven said. "The factory exploded. You two had the keys."
"It wasn't me, Lord Riven! I swear!" Flick immediately shouted. "I just slept for a bit at the guard post! When I woke up, the fire was already huge! Mr. Silas was the last one out!"
Silas lifted his wrinkled face. "I... I was indeed inside, My Lord. I was fixing a jammed printing press. But I carried no fire."
"Liar!" Flick accused. "He must have been bribed! Look at his pockets, they're bulging!"
Riven looked at Flick. Then at Silas.
His "Field Project Manager" instincts kicked in. Back in Jakarta, he had dealt with thieving employees on construction sites often enough. He knew the body language of a liar.
An innocent person usually gets angry or confused when accused.
A guilty person gets overly defensive and accuses others.
"Grimm," Riven called.
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Check Flick's locker. Now."
Flick's face went deathly pale instantly. "M-My Lord? Why me? It was Silas who..."
"SILENCE!" Riven barked. His voice thundered.
Five minutes later, Grimm returned carrying a small cloth bag from Flick's locker.
The contents were spilled onto the table.
Gold Coins. 50 pieces.
And a small pin bearing the Black Sun emblem.
"Flick..." Riven shook his head in disappointment. "I gave you a job when you were starving. I gave you meat. I gave you dignity."
"And you sold us for just 50 gold?"
Flick fell to his knees, sobbing. "Mercy, My Lord! They threatened my mother! Those men in black robes... they said they would kill my mom if I didn't burn the factory!"
Riven stood up. He walked toward Flick.
Flick closed his eyes, ready to be beaten.
But Riven just patted Flick's shoulder gently.
"I understand you love your mother," Riven said softly.
Then his tone turned cold as ice.
"...But you almost killed 120 of your coworkers."
"Grimm, take him to the cell. We will find out where his mother is being held, and we will save her. But after that... Flick is to be sentenced to 20 lashes and exiled from Northreach forever."
"Betrayal is still betrayal. Zero tolerance."
Sol-Regis Capital – Sudrath Manor. Same Night.
Sir Rianor read the telegraph message from Riven.
Tick-Tick... Culprit: Flick. Motif: Mother held hostage by Morvath's subordinates. Paper Factory 60% damaged. Production stopped for 2 weeks.
Rianor crumpled the telegraph paper.
"Morvath is playing dirty. He attacked our logistics."
"Do we hit back?" asked Sir Roland, who was polishing his shoes.
"Hit back with what? We can't attack the Prime Minister's mansion. There are thousands of guards."
"We don't attack his house," Rianor smiled thinly, a very dangerous smile. "We attack his 'Heart'."
"Heart?"
"Money," Rianor answered. "Morvath is corrupt. He keeps his dirty money not in the Royal Bank (fear of King's audit), but in the private Iron Vault Bank."
Rianor opened a map of the Capital.
"Elara just gave me the security blueprints of the Iron Vault. The bank is guarded by magic and golems."
"But..." Rianor pointed to a spot on the map.
"They have one fatal weakness. They use an Archaic Mana Security system that... can be hacked."
Rhea entered, carrying all-black gear.
"So, we're robbing a bank tonight? Like in Money Heist?"
"More precisely," Rianor corrected. "We are moving Morvath's assets to the Northreach development account. Without anyone knowing the money is gone until next month."
Rianor looked at his siblings.
"Mission: Operation Robin Hood."
"Target: 100,000 Gold belonging to Morvath."
"Operatives: Rianor (Hacker), Rhea (Infiltrator), Roland (Distraction)."
"Roland, your job is the hardest."
"What? Fighting?" Roland asked fearfully.
"No. You have to get drunk in front of the Bank to distract the gate guards. Make a scene as tacky as possible."
Roland grinned. "Ah, that's my natural skill."
In Front of Iron Vault Bank. Midnight.
"HEY! OPEN THE DOOR! I WANT TO MAKE A DEPOSIT!"
Sir Roland, with a messy shirt and a wine bottle (filled with tea) in hand, banged on the bank's iron gates.
"I am Roland Sudrath! Future richest man! Open up, will ya?!"
Two golem guards and two human security guards came out annoyed.
"Sir! It's midnight! The bank is closed!"
"Who says it's closed?! Money never sleeps! Hic!" Roland pretended to vomit on the guard's shoes.
While the guards were busy dealing with the "Drunken Lunatic" out front...
On the Bank's Roof.
Lady Rhea and Sir Rianor landed silently.
"Elara said the mana vent is here," Rianor whispered. He attached a circuit breaker device (made by Elara) to a small chimney.
Click.
The magical alarm system died temporarily.
"We have 10 minutes before the system reboots," Rianor said.
They rappelled down. Entering the main vault room.
The vault door was thick, made of enchanted steel.
"Rhea, can you break this?"
"Can't stab it," Rhea shook her head. "But..."
Rhea pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid from her pocket.
"Rumi sent this. High-Concentration Acid (extracted from giant worm stomachs)."
Rhea was about to pour the liquid onto the door hinge.
"Wait!" Rianor grabbed Rhea's wrist just before the liquid spilled.
"Why? Dawn is coming," Rhea protested.
Rianor turned on his special goggles. He pointed to the edge of the iron door. Faintly, a thin purple light could be seen pulsing.
"You see that? That's a Rune of Silent Alarm. If this hinge gets scratched even a little without killing the circuit, a garrison of capital mages will teleport here in three seconds. We'd die stupidly."
Rianor reached into his waist bag quickly. He pulled out a small metal disk with a blinking red indicator light—a Mana Jammer he built with Elara last night.
He attached the device right in the center of the iron door.
ZIIING....
A high-frequency hum that hurt the ears resonated. The purple light on the door flickered frantically, then died completely like a blown lightbulb.
"Security system paralyzed," Rianor exhaled in relief, wiping cold sweat from his temple. "Morvath is paranoid, indeed, but he relies too much on ancient magic. Now you can burn it."
Rhea poured the acid onto the hinge.
Hiss.... The steel melted like butter.
The door opened.
Inside... stacks of gold bars and gems.
On one shelf, there was a special chest with the Black Sun emblem (Morvath's Property).
"That's it," Rianor smiled. "The people's tax money he embezzled."
"Do we take it all?" Rhea asked.
"Can't carry it all manually," Rianor said. He pulled out a Bag of Holding—a rare magic item he bought expensively from Elara that morning.
"Stuff everything in here. Leave one coin."
"Why leave one?"
Rianor took a piece of paper, wrote something, and placed it on top of that single coin.
The message read:
"Thanks for the donation to the Northreach Paper Factory Construction. – The Wolf."
"So he knows who took it, but can't prove anything," Rianor smirked.
They filled the bag to the brim. 100,000 Gold.
"Time's up! Move out!"
They climbed back to the roof, closed the vent, and vanished into the night.
Below, Roland finally "passed out" (pretended to sleep) and was carried home by a rented carriage.
Mission Successful.
Tomorrow morning, Morvath would wake up as the poorest man in the ministry. And Northreach had just received a fresh injection of funds to build a bigger and more advanced factory.
This shadow war... the current score: Sudrath 2 – 0 Morvath.