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He smirks, though not unkindly. “I see.” But there’s a warm glint in his eye, suggesting he doesn’t believe it’s purely pragmatic concern. A ripple of awareness passes between us, an acknowledgment of the complicated bond forging in these precarious days.

Rising from the bench, I clear my throat, withdrawing my hand from his. “I’ll, uh, look over more ledgers in the record room. See if I can match any times or shipping references. Meet me there when you’re free.”

He stands as well, expression softening. “I will.”

Before I turn to go, I catch the faint shift of his weight, like he’s debating whether to say or do something more.

My heart leaps, but he merely inclines his head, letting me slip away with a quick nod.

I leave the terrace, the corridor swallowing me in gentle shadows.

With each step, I replay his quiet gratitude, the spark in his eyes that suggests we’re moving beyond forced co-conspirators into something deeper.

As I pass the estate’s subdued lighting and intricately carved walls, my thoughts roam to what I witnessed in that alley: the hush of the conspirators’ voices, the silent menace of a cloaked noble.

The stakes are rising, not just for Remanos’s champion status but for the entire city.

If orcs gain a foothold here through unscrupulous minotaur allies, who knows what chaos will follow?

Yet beneath that concern, a flicker of fierce determination glows.

If we succeed, if we expose the traitors, Remanos might be free from the Senate’s manipulations—and I might be freed of this entire system that treats me as a prize.

My stomach twists with an unfamiliar sense of hope.

I never imagined allying with a minotaur champion, but life has a way of forcing unexpected alliances.

I reach the record room, push open the door, and settle among the shelves, hunting for any references that might match the next possible shipment date.

Outside, the estate’s corridors remain tranquil, the hush almost soothing.

But in my mind, I hear the echo of that tall noble’s voice: “… your champion’s downfall …

the orc clan demands …” The words drive me onward, fueling my search for the final puzzle piece that might bring everything into the open.

Time slips away as I work, copying details into a small notebook I borrowed from the estate’s stationery.

Every page I flip intensifies the notion that these shipping anomalies weren’t random mistakes—someone carefully orchestrated them.

I eventually find a suspicious line referencing “Clay br—” truncated in the original text, almost like someone started to write “Clay bricks” but changed their mind.

Next to it is an odd scribble of a boar’s head crest. My pulse jumps.

This could align with the crates I saw in the market.

If the deliveries are cyclical, the next batch might be due tonight or tomorrow at dawn.

Footsteps in the corridor draw me from my work. I glance up to see one of the younger guards peering in. He looks relieved to have found me. “Champion requests your presence in the courtyard,” he announces, giving a polite dip of his head. “He’s preparing for an excursion.”

I gather my notes, heart fluttering with anticipation.

This is it: our next step to unravel the sabotage from within.

I follow the guard through the halls, my mind swirling with everything I’ve learned today.

The corridor opens onto the sun-drenched courtyard, where Remanos stands near a low fountain, conferring with two of his most trusted staff.

When he spots me, he dismisses them with a nod.

I cross the courtyard, my sandals echoing on stone.

His gaze meets mine—a mixture of resolve and simmering intensity.

The tension between us is almost palpable.

He’s dressed in simpler gear, a well-worn tunic that allows for movement, bracers on his forearms. The hidden bruises on his torso might ache, but he carries himself with quiet strength.

“Did you find anything?” he asks softly.

I offer my scribbled notes, stepping close enough that I can sense the heat of his body. “Yes. The logs might indicate another drop tonight. If the conspirators are brazen, they’ll do it after sunset when fewer eyes are on them.”

His lips twitch into a grim half-smile. “Then let’s give them a nasty surprise. We’ll slip into the southern district under cover, watch for any suspicious crates.” He glances down at me, his eyes holding an unspoken question. “You’re sure you’re up for this?”

I square my shoulders, ignoring the flicker of nerves. “I’m sure.”

His tail flicks once in approval. Then he turns, beckoning me to follow him down a side passage that leads toward the stables. “We’ll take minimal escort. Just you, me, and two discreet guards in plain clothes. The Senate might spy on my movements, so we must move fast.”

My breath quickens at the thought of sneaking out under the Senate’s nose, but excitement threads through the anxiety. “Lead the way, champion.”

He pauses, glancing back at me. The word “champion” lingers between us, carrying the weight of all the city’s expectations but also laced with private undertones. He smirks lightly. “You only call me that when you’re feeling cooperative.”

I arch a brow, trying not to let the heat in my cheeks show. “Consider it a courtesy, for now.”

A current of shared understanding passes between us.

We step into the stables, where a pair of lean riding animals—large, hoofed beasts somewhat like robust horses—are being readied.

Two of Remanos’s guards stand by, each dressed in plain cloaks.

The stable-hand acknowledges me with a nod, then helps me mount one of the creatures while Remanos swings up onto the other with practiced ease. The guards fall in behind us.

The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and crimson.

We trot out of the estate’s side gate, the city unfolding before us in a tapestry of stone structures and winding roads.

Distant columns reflect the dying light, and a hush settles over the thoroughfares as evening approaches.

With each clop of hooves, I feel the swirl of adrenaline rising.

Remanos rides beside me, occasionally glancing my way, as though to gauge my readiness or reassure me.

Despite the tension, an undeniable sense of partnership hangs in the air.

I recall the stern minotaur who first took me in under Senate pressure, how I loathed him for it, and how far we’ve come—now forging a pact to unveil a conspiracy that strikes at the heart of Milthar.

I clench the reins, focusing on the road, determination pulsing in my veins.

Tonight, if the conspirators show themselves, we’ll be watching.

And if we can expose them, maybe we can free Remanos from a future overshadowed by suspicion, and free me from the Senate’s trophy role.

That hope propels me forward, even as the city’s shadows lengthen.

We ride in sync, two unlikely allies in a place teetering on the edge of betrayal, sparks dancing between us as we follow the trail of deceit deeper into the night.