Before the Darconer retinue departed from Baron Dormund's estate, Sebastian discreetly approached Sevine in a side corridor, while the household bustled around them in preparation for the farewell.
With a swift and silent motion, he slipped a small folded note into Sevine's gloved hand, feigning assistance in adjusting the edge of her sleeve.
"Wait at the Copperstag Bar after lunch. Don't make me wait long," he whispered, his voice nearly drowned by the clatter of passing servants.
Sevine glanced at the note — a single terse line scribbled hastily:
"Second floor, back room. Make sure you're not followed."
She tucked the paper into her sleeve without a change in expression, responding with a cold, almost indifferent nod, as if nothing had happened.
»»--⍟--««
Sebastian was waiting inside the Copperstag Bar, a modest tavern tucked within the vicinity of Dormund's estate.
Today, they would finally set the next part of their plan in motion.
The reason Sebastian chose this place was simple: the bar's owner was a longtime acquaintance.
Thanks to that connection, Sebastian had secured the use of a secluded room on the second floor, far from prying eyes.
The moment Sevine stepped inside the bar, the owner, recognizing her from the brief description given, silently gestured for her to follow him upstairs.
Sebastian lounged in a chair by the window, lazily twirling a glass between his fingers when she entered.
"I wasn't aware you were fond of arriving fashionably late, my Lady. You kept me waiting longer than I would have liked," he said, voice tinged with dry amusement.
Sevine ignored his complaint, sweeping into the room and shedding the traveling cloak from her shoulders with a careless grace.
What Sebastian didn't know was that it had taken considerable effort for Sevine to convince her father to allow her out alone.
She had to persuade him she merely needed a breath of air after the draining audience at Dormund's estate.
"I brought Linden along. Father insisted I not go anywhere without him," Sevine said coolly.
"Linden?" Sebastian arched an eyebrow.
"My personal guard," she replied flatly.
"Oh." A flicker of disappointment crossed Sebastian's face for reasons he did not fully understand.
"Does your guard know about our plan?" he asked after a moment.
Sevine nodded. "Fortunately, he's willing to cooperate. He will assist us."
Sebastian merely hummed in response, withholding any further comment.
Instead, he raised his hand and whistled sharply.
At his signal, several knights clad in white armor entered the room, dragging the prisoner from the night before.
Sevine's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the captive.
He looked far worse than he had the night before — one eye was swollen shut, his cheek bruised an ugly shade of purple.
She shot a scathing glare at Sebastian. He merely shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"He'll serve our purpose today," Sebastian said as he circled the battered man like a hawk.
"Has he been properly... briefed?" Sevine asked.
"Of course. I made sure he understood very clearly," Sebastian replied with a glint of dark humor.
Sevine crouched in front of the prisoner, her voice low and cold.
"So you understand your role, little black rat?"
"Pfft..." Sebastian barely managed to stifle a laugh, not expecting her to actually call the man 'black rat' to his face.
"Y-Yes, my Lady," the man stammered. "Young Duke Ruberius explained everything. I'll do whatever you command!"
"Good," Sevine said, her voice sharpened like a dagger's edge.
"You'll slip among the white rats unnoticed — and if you fail, you will die. Understand?"
The man nodded vigorously, sweat beading at his temple.
Sebastian leaned back against the wall, watching Sevine over the rim of his spectacles.
It was almost surreal — the girl in the delicate pink dress with white lace frills, issuing threats that could chill a man's blood.
Especially considering she had flattened him with a single punch the night before.
"Stop looking at me with those filthy eyes, four-eyes," Sevine snapped, donning her cloak once again.
"Truly, my Lady," Sebastian said with a wry smile, "you are endlessly fascinating."
"Cut the nonsense. Let's move."
Sevine swept out of the room without waiting for a response, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner of war.
Sebastian followed, along with the battered prisoner and the silent, armored knights.
Today, the hunt for the white rats would truly begin.
»»——⍟——««
At the same time, while Sebastian and Sevine were carrying out their plan—Jayden Winchester had just dismounted from his black horse. He had arrived in the southern district, followed closely by three of his knights.
The three were Berthold Bazar, the second strongest knight, Lionix Cavendis, ranked third, and Jordan Vicarte, ranked fourth.
"There's a place I need to visit," Jayden said to his subordinates."Gather information about the missing children—when and where they were last seen. I want every detail, no matter how small."
After receiving their orders, the three knights immediately dispersed into the crowd to begin their search.
Jayden now stood in front of a clothing store.
At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary boutique with clothes displayed neatly in the window.
But in reality, this was a place where information was bought and sold—sometimes along with certain rare items.
All it took was the right keyword, and the shopkeeper would lead the customer into the basement—the true heart of the operation.
There was something Jayden needed from this place.And he was certain that Nuel, the owner of the shop, had it.
»»——⍟——««
Jayden Winchester descended into the underground chamber, his boots making a low echo against the cold stone floor.
Across the room, Nuel sat leisurely behind her desk, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, a sly smile dancing on her lips.
"What brings the young Duke Winchester to visit someone as lowly as myself today?"
Nuel twirled a lock of her hair and shot Jayden a playful wink.
As always, Jayden spared no patience for pleasantries.
"Hand it over," he said, voice sharp as a blade.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my lord," Nuel teased, her tone dripping with mock innocence.
Without hesitation, she leaned in, attempting to drape an arm around Jayden's shoulders—a gesture that was swiftly and roughly shrugged off.
"Someone like you, who has eyes and ears in every shadow, should already know why I'm here," Jayden said coldly.
Nuel laughed, a silken sound. "You nobles really do know how to kill the mood."
"Spare me the theatrics," Jayden muttered.
For a moment, Nuel's teasing expression faded into a knowing smirk.
"You really are your father's son," she said. "Speaking to you feels just like speaking to Aldrich himself."
She rose gracefully from her chair and made her way to a heavy steel safe hidden in the corner of the room.Placing her palm on its surface, she murmured an incantation. The safe responded with a faint metallic click.
"I didn't realize you were skilled with locking spells," Jayden remarked dryly.
"Leaving treasures unguarded is practically inviting death," Nuel said sweetly, retrieving a small object.
She pulled out a delicate pin—small, but striking in its intricate design—and locked the safe again with a whisper of magic.
As Jayden extended his hand, Nuel placed the pin into his palm, her expression shifting to one of sharp seriousness.
"So... what price would you offer for such a pretty little thing?" she mused.
Jayden examined the pin. A crescent moon was engraved into its surface—a symbol impossible to mistake.
"You can send the bill directly to the Winchester Duchy," he said, pocketing the item and turning toward the exit.
From behind him, Nuel's amused voice floated after him:
"That's why I love doing business with the rich."
Nuel leaned against her desk, arms folded, a satisfied smirk on her beautiful face.
»»——⍟——««
Outside, Jayden turned the pin over in his gloved fingers, the crescent moon shimmering faintly in the afternoon light.
Only one place came to mind: Forkshire Bank.
The most prestigious financial institution in western Baterville, Forkshire Bank was tucked securely within Darconer territory.
Known not only for handling wealth, but for guarding secrets money could not buy.
Nuel's parting words echoed clearly in his mind:
"Bring the pin to Forkshire, two weeks from now."
It was a message. A warning.
And Jayden could feel it in his bones: whatever lay hidden inside Forkshire Bank was connected to the missing children.
He made his way back toward Travis, his black stallion, who was now surrounded by a small swarm of curious village children.
The moment the children spotted Jayden, they froze in fear, then began to scatter.
"S-sorry, sir," a young boy stammered. "We were just playing with your horse!"
"We're good kids, honest! Please don't take us away!" cried a little girl, her voice trembling with terror.
Jayden knelt, leveling his gaze with theirs.
"Calm down," he said, his voice softer.
"I'm not here to take any of you."
He gently ruffled the little girl's hair.
"Our mother said bad children get taken," another girl whispered.
"But Shena was good," said the girl under Jayden's hand. "She was the nicest... and she disappeared anyway."
Jayden felt a heavy weight settle over his chest.
He reached out and gently patted each child's head, one by one.
"I swear to you," he said firmly, "your friends will come back.
And I will be the one to bring them home."
The children's faces lit up with a mixture of hope and wonder.
Behind him, Jayden's three knights—Berthold, Lionix, and Jordan—approached, their expressions grim.
Jayden pulled several gold coins from his pocket and handed them to the children.
"Go. Buy yourselves something delicious."
Wide-eyed and thrilled, the children clutched the coins to their chests and raced off, waving at him joyfully as they disappeared into the streets.
Jayden turned back to his knights, the warmth leaving his expression.
"Report," he commanded.
Berthold stepped forward.
"Several villagers claim they saw a freight carriage hauling children away, near the Halon River."
The Halon River—a common playground for the village children, but dangerously secluded at certain bends.
It made sense.
Jayden's eyes darkened.
"And you, Jordan? Lionix?"
Jordan spoke hesitantly.
"All the families whose children are missing... they all owed money, my lord."
Jayden narrowed his eyes. "That alone doesn't narrow it down. Many are indebted here."
Jordan and Berthold fell silent.
But Lionix, steady and focused, stepped in.
"My lord, during my interviews, I found that most of the mothers could not read or write.
Despite this, the lenders always gave them written contracts... except one."
Jayden's attention sharpened immediately.
Lionix continued:
"There was a single lender who refused to leave a copy of the agreement.
A couple—Tori and Wilson."
At that instant, Jayden understood everything.
A pattern emerged, undeniable:
The illiterate were easily manipulated. The missing contracts meant no paper trail. No evidence. No justice.
Tori and Wilson were hiding their true dealings—using debts as a cover to traffic the children.
It wasn't mere debt collection.
It was systematic abduction, veiled in legal formalities.
The puzzle pieces fit too neatly to ignore.
Jayden clenched his jaw.
A storm brewed in his chest.
"We have our culprits," he said coldly.
"And we are going to bring them down."
Without another word, he mounted Travis, determination etched across his face. Tonight, justice would ride with him.
Meanwhile, at another corner of the southern region—The fading sunlight filtered through the dense forest, casting long, jagged shadows over the grassy path.The air smelled of moss and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the stony alleys Jayden had just left behind.In this quieter part of Baterville, Sevine and Sebastian were making their own preparations.
Of course! I'll create a natural narrative bridge to return the scene back to Sevine and Sebastian, keeping the same style and tone as before.
I'll also enrich the narration with more descriptions, body language, and tension buildup between the characters — without changing the meaning you wrote.
Here's the improved English version:
---
Meanwhile, at another corner of the southern region—The fading sunlight filtered through the dense forest, casting long, jagged shadows over the grassy path.The air smelled of moss and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the stony alleys Jayden had just left behind.In this quieter part of Baterville, Sevine and Sebastian were making their own preparations.
"Ck, you only brought one extra horse, glasses?" Sevine clicked her tongue in frustration, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"I only have one spare horse," Sebastian replied calmly, adjusting his spectacles with an air of complete indifference.
"Then give me one of their horses," Sevine said, her eyes darting toward the White Armor Knights standing stiffly behind Sebastian. Their warhorses pawed at the ground, strong and restless.
Sebastian shot a warning glance at the knights—a look that needed no words.
The knights immediately caught on.
"B-but Lady, our horses are... a bit wild," one of them stammered.
"Very dangerous for a noble lady to ride, if I may say so," another added quickly, nodding with exaggerated concern.
Sebastian spread his hands, as if to say see? not my fault.
"I wasn't lying," he said, his voice infuriatingly even.
Sevine scowled.
"Fine. I'll just ride with Linden, then," she muttered, brushing past him toward her trusted bodyguard.
Sebastian, however, stepped in to block her path.
"Your guard must accompany my knights, Lady," he said firmly. "We each have different tasks."
Sevine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"While we monitor the 'black rat' meeting with the envoy from the northern temple, your guards and my knights will be raiding the primary storage warehouse," Sebastian explained.
From the confession they had extracted earlier, they learned that the contraband crates were not just smuggled across the border; they were also stockpiled in a massive warehouse hidden deep within the forest across the Halon River. The warehouse was heavily guarded by armed bandits and a handful of minor spellcasters—under the command of Baron Dormund and his unsavory associates.
"So you're saying..." Sevine began.
"You'll be traveling alone," Sebastian finished smoothly, a faint, smug glint in his eyes.
Sevine's mouth fell open in outrage.
"I'm not comfortable going with just you! At least let Linden come along!" she protested, trying her best to flash him a pleading, puppy-eyed look.
Unfortunately for her, Sebastian was as immovable as a mountain.
He even went so far as to deliberately don a blank, clueless expression—one that only made Sevine want to slap him even more.
"It sounds like you're underestimating me, Lady," Sebastian said, placing a hand over his heart in mock injury.
"Believe it or not, I happen to be the most powerful magician in the kingdom.
Your safety is guaranteed when you're with me."
He flashed a self-satisfied smile—the kind that made Sevine grind her teeth.
In the end, she had no choice but to relent.
Grumbling under her breath, she climbed up onto the saddle behind Sebastian.
"If I so much as get scratched, you're going to pay for it, glasses!" she hissed.
Sebastian only chuckled under his breath, nudging the horse forward into a swift, steady gallop—leaving behind the knights, the guards, and all Sevine's protests fluttering uselessly in the wind.
»»——⍟——««
The knights, their armor gleaming under the moon, moved silently, their horses' hooves barely making a sound as they made their way toward the warehouse across the Halon River. Linden, ever vigilant, kept his eyes on Sevine. A tight knot of worry twisted in his stomach, but he knew Sebastian would keep her safe. Besides, they had taken an oath, one that bound them to protect and serve.
Meanwhile, Sebastian and Sevine followed the trail of the black rats. The men were gathering at Dormund's estate, preparing to leave in a cart.
The cart came to a halt in front of an old, crumbling building.
"They've picked a good hiding spot," Sebastian observed, his voice low, his eyes narrowing as he took in the surroundings. "An orphanage, no one would suspect it."
Sevine rolled her eyes, irritation clear on her face. "Stop smiling like that. It's not clever. It's dangerous."
Sebastian's smile didn't fade. "To the untrained eye, maybe," he replied, his gaze drifting over the building, calculating. "But it works for them, doesn't it? Simple minds do simple things."
She didn't respond. Instead, she swung herself off the horse with a practiced ease, landing on her feet with barely a sound. She didn't wait for him to help her.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked, her eyes scanning the building ahead. "They'll know something's off the moment they see you. They'll scatter."
Sebastian's lips curled slightly, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "That's where our rat comes in."
Sevine frowned, confused. "Our rat?"
"The one we've set up," he explained, taking her hand in his. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her skin as he spoke. "I've put a slave collar on him. A magic collar that records everything he hears. If he tries to betray us, it'll explode. His head will blow off."
Sevine's stomach turned, a shiver running down her spine. "You're joking, right?"
Sebastian shook his head, his expression cold. "No joke. It's efficient."
Sevine recoiled slightly, instinctively reaching for her own neck as if she could feel the weight of the collar. Is this what he's become? The thought made her sick to her core.
Trying to steady her nerves, she pressed on, forcing herself to focus on the plan. "So the collar records everything, huh?"
"Exactly," he said, squeezing her hand. His voice lowered, almost smug. "He listens, he records, and if he tries anything... well, he's gone."
"But what if he chooses death?" Sevine countered. "What if he's loyal to Dormund?"
Sebastian's smile turned sharper, a cold edge in his voice. "He won't. He has a wife and child. He's not stupid enough to risk that. Trust me."
Sevine felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn't expected that answer. The cold way he spoke of using a man's family as leverage made her stomach churn. It wasn't just cruel—it was monstrous.
She looked at him, her words coming out in a sharp whisper. "You're using his family. You're using them as pawns."
Sebastian stepped closer, his gaze hardening as he removed his glasses, revealing eyes that were too sharp, too calculating. His presence seemed to fill the air, making everything feel heavier. "What else is there to use?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not upset about the lives we're using, Lady. You're upset because it's his family, not just anyone's."
Her chest tightened, and she pushed him away, a reflex, her heart racing in her chest. "You're disgusting," she spat. "You think this is a game?"
Sebastian's face hardened, his expression shifting from amusement to something colder, more ruthless. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pinning her against the wall. "It's not a game," he said, his voice sharp. "This is survival. You used to understand that. Or did you forget who you really are?"
Sebastian stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "If you can't stomach the truth, Lady, you're free to leave. Go hide in your mansion. But don't expect me to stop because you've lost your taste for the mess we're in."
»»——⍟——««
In the back room of the orphanage, a group of middle-aged men sat around a round table, their faces serious, speaking in low voices. Baron Dormund was among them, sharing stories about his meeting with Duke Lucas Darconer from a few days ago.
The men gathered here were a mix of minor nobles and common folk involved in shady dealings—specifically, the buying and selling of tribute food. Most of them had one thing in mind—getting their hands on a fresh shipment from Winchester Duchy, which was on its way. The quality of the tribute food from high-ranking nobles like those from Winchester was unmatched, making it highly coveted and causing these thieves to fight over it.
"I want to take some wheat flour from the Winchester crates. The price is skyrocketing in the capital," said Samir, a bald man sitting next to Baron Dormund. He was one of Dormund's relatives, and had been brought into this dirty business by him.
"No way! I want that wheat flour too!" interrupted a man across the table from Samir, his face filled with frustration.
Baron Dormund, unwilling to let anyone outdo him, quickly chimed in. "Take the wheat flour if you want, but leave the meat for me! Winchester's sheep are raised to perfection, fat and round. The quality of their meat is top-notch."
However, Dormund wasn't the only one eyeing the meat. Baron Rudolf, sitting at the far end of the table, wasn't about to let it go easily. "Don't be so greedy! You already took meat from the Darconer crates last time. This time, the meat belongs to me!" he shouted, banging his fist on the table.
Immediately, the room grew tense, and the two men started bickering loudly, neither willing to back down. The other men in the room joined in, and soon, the whole place was filled with shouting and angry exchanges.
In the corner of the room, a tall, thin man with curly hair quietly watched the commotion, sipping his coffee. He was Viscount Martin, the leader of this group of thieves.
Crash!
Suddenly, the sound of a cane slamming onto the table silenced the room. Everyone froze. Baron Dormund, who had been about to strike Baron Rudolf, paused and sat back down. The others followed suit, the tension still lingering in the air.
"Apologies, Viscount Martin," Baron Rudolf said, his voice a little shaky as he realized they'd gone too far.
Viscount Martin took a deep breath, took another sip of coffee, and retrieved his cane from the table. "I understand you're all eager for the new shipments," he said calmly, his voice deliberately slow. "But only the highest bidder gets to take home the goods."
The others nodded, understanding the implication. Martin, unlike the others, was more cunning and manipulative. He was the mastermind behind this shady operation, acting as the middleman between the north and south. These nobles had nothing but their fragile pride. Losing out on the auction would wound their egos, and Viscount Martin knew exactly how to exploit that.
He took advantage of the situation, throwing in a little bait. "The tribute from Winchester is the finest of all three duchies. And you all know that Winchester's wine is the best in the kingdom. It's expensive, and even His Majesty has recognized it as his favorite drink."
One of the nobles, now intrigued, asked, "Winchester wine? I heard they sent some boxes of it this time."
Viscount Martin smirked, hiding his lie. "Yes, that's right. But, of course, it's priced accordingly." He added with a sly smile. "But there's always a way to get it."
Immediately, the nobles were all over it. "Give us that wine, Viscount!" one of them called out. "I'll buy it all!"
"Wait! I'll buy it for a better price!" another shouted.
Once again, they took the bait. The room buzzed with greed, as the nobles vied for the prize, unaware that they were all pawns in a much bigger scheme—a scheme that would further enrich Viscount Martin at their expense.