Rowan rode through the rain.
White steam burst from the horse's neck, and its wet mane slapped against his face. His feet were growing numb, but he did not loosen the reins.
Revan Bridge was the shortest route east.
It was a stone bridge where, once wagons went up, they could hardly turn around midway. To stop them, he had to stop them before the bridge.
It was a pursuit.
"Move!"
At Rowan's shout, the laborers jumped aside. Hooves kicked through the mud, sending muddy water flying.
Inside his coat was the preservation request Edric had written in haste.
To think paper could be faster than a sword. In the past, he would have laughed at such a thing. But after spending only a few days with Kael, he no longer said things like that lightly. Paper saved hundreds of people.
The torches at Revan Bridge came into view.
Fog lay over the river, and three wagons already stood before the checkpoint.
Was he too late?
Rowan dismounted as though he were almost leaping from the saddle.
"Revan Checkpoint!"
Two soldiers raised their spears.
"Halt. State your identity and business."
"Rowan of Riorden. I bring a preservation request for an eastern convoy."
"Riorden?"
Wariness rose on the soldier's face.
"Call the captain."
"You cannot summon the checkpoint captain in the middle of the night merely by naming a noble house."
Rowan swept his wet hair back.
"Then should I call him with my sword?"
Laughter came from the wagons behind him.
"Young knight, it seems you got lost in the rain."
The cloak of the man at the head of the convoy bore the golden scales emblem of the Hyrun Trading Company.
"Are you the transport officer?"
"Semor, deputy transport officer of the Hyrun Trading Company."
"I will inspect the goods you are carrying."
"They are supplies sponsored by House Seradin. We have a passage seal as well."
"What about the Temple's?"
Semor's smile stopped for the slightest moment.
It was brief.
But Rowan saw it.
"We only transport supplies formally sponsored by noble houses."
Rowan took the preservation request from inside his coat.
"Stop passage across the bridge."
The soldier hesitated, unable to take the document.
"A request cannot halt passage. We need an order."
"It is a request to hold them until an order arrives."
"Does that make any sense?"
For a moment, Rowan wondered what Kael would have said.
"It makes no sense, which is why it costs money."
The soldier blinked.
Rowan did not like his own words either. Imitating Kael was difficult after all.
The checkpoint door opened, and a gray-bearded man emerged.
"What is this commotion?"
"Captain, the Riorden knight brought a preservation request for the convoy."
The checkpoint captain looked Rowan over.
"Sir Rowan? Aren't you the knight who put three young nobles through their paces at the training grounds west of the capital?"
"Five."
"Is that important?"
"It is to me."
The checkpoint captain held out a hand with a tired expression. "The document."
He read the request close to the torchlight.
"An official seal?"
Rowan fell silent for a moment.
The checkpoint captain understood the answer from that silence alone.
"There isn't one."
Semor bowed his head as though he had been waiting for that.
"Captain, we received formal passage authorization. Any losses from the delay will be recorded by both House Seradin and the trading company. At the checkpoint as well, of course."
"Captain."
Rowan spoke low.
"Close the bridge."
"I do not have the authority."
"Then I will stand in front of the wagons."
"That would be a knight's personal disturbance."
"Good. I am used to that."
The checkpoint captain clenched his teeth.
"If I stop authorized noble supplies, the responsibility will hang around my neck."
"If those wagons pass, other necks will hang."
"Whose necks?"
Rowan was about to answer, but stopped.
Three hundred and twelve people. But if he only named a number, it would become another document.
He looked at the wagons. A faint metallic sound came from beneath the awning of the front one.
The sound of glass bottles knocking together.
Without a word, Rowan walked forward.
"Sir knight, it would be troublesome if you laid hands on the trading company's goods."
"I am used to trouble."
Then the sound of two sets of hooves came from the far side of the bridge. A rider in a rain-soaked cloak appeared.
It was Kael. Behind him, Mira followed with a document case clutched to her chest, her face pale.
His dark brown hair, wet from the rain, was plastered to his forehead. Kael's face was pale too, but his gray eyes counted the wagons and soldiers in turn.
"We are late."
Rowan said.
Kael caught his breath as he dismounted.
"You were too fast."
"Is that praise?"
"I will decide after settling the costs."
Rowan almost smiled without meaning to.
Kael approached the checkpoint captain. "Are you Sir Dorne Havel, captain of Revan Checkpoint?"
"I am. You are Kael Riorden?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell him to close the bridge without an official order?"
"I did not tell him to close the bridge. I told him not to cross the river until we confirm who owns the borrowed goods."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"It is different in the checkpoint records."
When Kael held out his hand, Mira produced papers wrapped in oilcloth.
"Refrigerator No. 2 seal confirmation from the clinic. Hyrun transport seal comparison copy. Copy of the sponsored supply allocation schedule."
Semor's expression hardened.
Dorne Havel took the papers.
"You cannot stop a convoy with copies alone."
"That is why I am not asking you to stop it."
Kael looked at the wagons.
"I am asking you to open them."
Semor stepped forward.
"Trading company goods are protected under a noble sponsorship contract. Arbitrary opening is a breach of contract."
"Fine. Then let us proceed according to the contract."
Kael pointed to the seal on the wagon.
"That is a seal from Hyrun's central warehouse. If it is damaged during transport, the transport officer bears responsibility. Is that correct?"
"It is."
"Who is the recipient?"
"The temporary supply depot on the eastern border."
"A person's name."
Semor's lips stopped.
"A supply depot is an institution."
"Then who is responsible for distribution?"
"They are assigned in the field."
"Where is the field?"
"The eastern border."
"The eastern border encompasses three territories and twelve outposts. That is a broad destination for a wagon carrying medicine."
Dorne Havel's eyes changed.
"Young Master Riorden."
Semor spoke low.
"If you delay sponsored supplies over the phrasing in the documents, the responsibility will return to House Riorden."
"It will. That is why we will write it down accurately. The Hyrun Trading Company tried to move medical supplies at night without being able to name either the recipient or the person responsible for distribution."
"It was not an unauthorized removal. It was transport."
"Then prove it."
Kael looked at Dorne Havel.
"I am not asking to open every wagon. We will inspect only three boxes. The front left one, the rear center one, and the one at the bottom of the last wagon."
Semor raised his brows.
"How do you know those locations?"
Kael looked at him.
"I never said I knew."
Semor closed his mouth.
Dorne Havel gestured to the soldiers with his chin.
"The front left box. Open it."
"Captain!"
"I will take your protest in the morning. Open the box."
The awning was pulled back. Sacks of flour and crates of dried meat were stacked inside the wagon. A soldier pulled out the front left box.
`Kerosene` was written on the box.
"Open it."
The nails were pulled out, and the lid came off.
Inside were bottles of what truly was kerosene. The mouths of the bottles smelled of oil.
Semor let out a breath.
"Are you satisfied now?"
Kael picked up one bottle. If it was kerosene, it should flow heavily. But the liquid moved more clearly and lightly.
There was a hairline scratch beneath the sealing wax.
Evidence that it had been opened and sealed again.
"Mira."
Mira took out a small silver needle.
"The smell is sharp."
"Only at the edge of the mouth."
Mira slipped the needle into a gap in the sealing wax. She dripped the liquid clinging to its tip onto a white cloth.
A pale blue stain spread across the cloth. Kerosene does not dry blue.
Dorne Havel's face hardened.
Rowan took a step toward Semor.
"That kerosene is quite pretty."
Semor did not step back.
Instead, he smiled.
"One bottle cannot make an entire convoy criminals."
"A good point."
Kael said.
"That is why I asked to see three."
Dorne Havel raised a hand.
"Inspect the rear center box and the one at the bottom of the last wagon too."
The soldiers moved.
Then the driver of the last wagon suddenly yanked the reins.
The horse screamed and reared. The wagon tipped, and one soldier tumbled into the mud.
"Get him!"
Rowan ran first.
The driver abandoned the wagon and sprinted toward the bridge. He held a small leather box in his arms.
He was not a transport driver.
Rowan drew his sword.
"Stop!"
The driver did not turn around.
Another horse shot out from the far side of the bridge.
A rider had already been waiting there.
The driver threw the leather box.
The box cut through the rain. Rowan threw himself after it, but his fingertips only brushed the cord.
The box landed in the arms of the rider on the far side of the bridge.
"Damn it!"
Rowan kicked off the railing and leaped.
But Dorne Havel's soldiers had begun lowering the bridge gate. The rider slipped beneath it by a hair's breadth.
Rowan had no choice but to stop before the iron portcullis.
The sound of hooves grew distant across the river.
"Raise the gate!"
Dorne Havel clenched his teeth.
"If we open it now, they will force the wagons through too!"
"We lost him!"
"We caught three wagons to let one get away!"
At those words, Rowan stopped.
Kael stood before the bridge, looking into the darkness.
[Emergency Medical Supplies]
[Confirmed Quantity: 6 Bottles]
[Unconfirmed Departure: 1 Bottle]
[Recipient Trace: Temple Healing Account]
One bottle.
They had caught six bottles. But one bottle had crossed the bridge.
Ledgers always collapsed through small holes. "Young Master."
Mira approached, her face wet with rain.
"Is one bottle... a serious matter?"
"It is not a small matter."
Kael said.
"But it is not over either."
Rowan returned. His gloves were soaked with mud and blood.
"I lost him."
"I saw."
"I will pursue him."
"Not now."
"Why not?"
Kael looked at the wagons.
"We must save the six bottles first."
"What about the one bottle?"
"That bottle left us a trail."
Kael approached Dorne Havel. "Detain everyone in the convoy, seal the wagons, and place the six confirmed bottles under temporary preservation immediately."
Dorne Havel looked at Semor.
Semor was no longer smiling.
"Young Master Riorden. Tonight's events will go down on the books at a high cost."
"Good. The more expensive the record, the longer it remains."
The soldiers lifted the floorboards of the last wagon. Beneath them, they found a document tube that had not gotten wet.
Mira took it and opened it.
Inside was a short note.
The handwriting was neat.
And familiar.
The moment Kael saw it, he recalled the gentle voice he had heard at the banquet.
Marquess Seradin.
The note gave neither a destination nor a recipient.
There was only one line.
The hungrier the East grows, the better it obeys.
Rowan swore under his breath.
Mira gripped the paper as though she might crumple it.
Only Kael looked at the words for a long time.
Then, very slowly, he smiled.
Not because he was pleased.
But because their opponent had finally shown a little of his face.
"Rowan."
"Yes."
"We will not pursue."
"Then what will we do?"
Kael folded the note and tucked it inside his coat. "We will send an invitation."
Rowan blinked.
"To whom?"
"To Marquess Seradin."
Rain fell over the bridge.
Looking into the darkness beyond the river, Kael spoke.
"We should ask him how dearly he is using the East he borrowed."
It was time to receive an answer.