By noon, the city had already changed its face.
The morning fog had lifted, giving way to the cold northern sun.
It offered almost no warmth, but it made the snow covering the rooftops and streets sparkle so brightly that Richard had to squint from time to time.
He stood outside the city administration building, silently watching the street.
The city was going about its usual business.
People hurried along on their errands, merchants unloaded carts, someone rushed into a nearby shop, and the muffled noise of the market drifted through the streets in the distance.
Some recognized Richard.
Some lingered on him with their eyes.
Others quickly looked away, as though hoping Lord Ravenhart would not notice them at all.
But Richard was no longer trying to figure out who regarded him favorably and who did not.
He had already understood the most important thing.
Most of them simply did not care.
To them, Lord Ravenhart was not a man they could see, hear, or approach.
He was a distant name.
A crest on documents.
A seal stamped on tax records.
A family name remembered only when old obligations were brought up.
Once, House Ravenhart had been a power no one could afford to ignore.
Now, it existed somewhere beyond the ordinary lives of these people.
And somehow, that was worse than hatred.
Hatred meant they remembered you.
Indifference meant they had already buried you.
“My lord.” Richard turned.
Sebastian stood beside him, his hands clasped behind his back.
“What is it?” “You’ve been staring at the city for quite some time.” Richard turned his gaze back toward the street.
“I’m trying to understand.” “Understand what?” Richard did not answer immediately.
“Why we lost it.” Sebastian followed his gaze.
For several moments, he too silently watched the people passing by.
“We haven’t lost it.” Richard frowned.
“Then why does it look as though we abandoned it?” Sebastian said nothing.
He could have said many things.
About years of inaction.
About the decisions made before Richard’s return.
About the people who had long since stopped waiting for help from the House.
But none of those reasons would have been simple enough to contain everything that had happened.
Richard understood his silence.
He sighed quietly.
“Come on.” Sebastian turned toward him.
“Where?” “The market.” A hint of concern already crept into Sebastian’s voice.
Richard looked at him.
“I want to see the prices.” Sebastian briefly closed his eyes.
“Of course.” Richard raised an eyebrow.
“What?” “Nothing.” “You were going to say I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong again?” Sebastian looked at him with a faint smile.
“I was going to say that you’re starting to remind me of your old self.” Richard stopped.
“Is that a good thing?” Sebastian stopped as well.
For several seconds, he studied Richard as though genuinely considering the answer.
“I don’t know yet.” With that, he turned and began walking.
Richard watched him for another moment before following.
The market was only a few streets away.
And if the city truly was what years of indifference had made it, Richard wanted to see it with his own eyes.
Writing The market was far busier than Richard had expected.
Several dozen merchants had set up along the square, each trying to secure the most favorable spot.
Their stalls displayed whatever goods could still be obtained: meat, bread, vegetables, cloth, tools, and firewood.
At first glance, everything seemed ordinary.
But the longer Richard looked, the clearer it became just how much had changed.
There were too few goods.
Prices were far too high.
And more and more often, customers lingered at the stalls only to ask after a long silence, “Can’t you make it cheaper?” The answer was almost always the same.
“No.” Richard moved slowly along the rows, careful not to draw unnecessary attention to himself.
He studied the goods, listened to the conversations, and memorized the prices.
The longer he remained there, the clearer it became that poverty was not the only problem.
The city was running short on supplies.
Which meant there had to be a reason trade was no longer functioning as it once had.
Richard stopped beside one of the stalls.
An elderly merchant with gray hair was arranging sacks of flour, occasionally glancing at the passing customers.
Richard pointed toward one of the sacks.
“How much?” The merchant named his price.
Richard frowned.
“Why so expensive?” The old man gave a weary shrug.
“Because getting it here costs more than it used to.” “Why?” The merchant hesitated for a moment.
“The port.” Richard exhaled faintly.
He had heard that word far too many times already today.
“What’s happening at the port?” The old man looked up at him.
This time, he studied Richard more carefully.
For several seconds, he examined his face as though trying to make certain he was not mistaken.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
“My lord…” Richard gave a calm nod.
“Go on.” The old merchant nervously glanced around.
“People are afraid to go there.” “Bandits?” “Not only them.” “Then what else?” The merchant pressed his lips together.
“Strangers have appeared.” “Merchants?” “That’s what they call themselves.” “And who are they really?” The old man lowered his gaze.
“I don’t know.” He clearly wanted to say more, but at the last moment, he thought better of it.
Richard noticed.
“You know something.” “I only know that it’s better to stay away from them.” “Why?” The merchant never got the chance to answer.
“Old man, are you tired of living?” The sharp voice came from nearby.
The merchant went pale.
Richard turned his head.
Three men had approached the stall.
He recognized the first one immediately.
It was the same man he had seen yesterday beside another merchant.
The one who had taken money from the trader and acted as though the entire market belonged to him.
The man stopped in front of the stall and fixed the old merchant with a heavy stare.
“What did I warn you about?” “I… I wasn’t…” “So now you’re lying to me too?” The merchant fell silent.
Only then did the man notice Richard.
His gaze shifted toward him, studying him for several seconds.
Then he frowned.
“Get lost.” Richard calmly looked at him.
“Who exactly are you talking to?” “You.” Sebastian immediately took a step forward.
But Richard stopped him with the slightest movement.
Kain, standing a little behind them, did not move either.
He simply watched.
Richard noticed his gaze.
Kain had no intention of interfering.
He wanted to see what Richard would do on his own.
Fine.
Richard had no intention of disappointing him.
He looked back at the man.
“Do you know who you’re speaking to?” A mocking smile appeared on the man’s face.
“Don’t care.” Richard did not answer immediately.
Instead, he studied him carefully.
His hands.
His belt.
His boots.
His clothes.
Nothing remarkable.
Just an ordinary street thug, accustomed to intimidating those weaker than himself.
But his companions… Richard shifted his attention to the second man.
He carried himself completely differently.
He did not slouch.
He did not constantly glance around.
His weight was evenly balanced, and his hands remained loose at his sides, as though he was accustomed to using them at a moment’s notice.
Too confident.
Too calm.
Not a common street thug.
At least, not an ordinary one.
Richard held his gaze.
The man noticed.
“What are you looking at?” “You.” “Why?” “I’m trying to understand who you people are.” The leader gave a short laugh.
“And why should you care?” Richard looked at the old merchant.
The man stood perfectly still, afraid to make even the slightest movement.
Then Richard looked back at the leader.
His voice was slightly colder now.
“So far, I don’t.” He paused.
“But you’ve just given me a reason to become interested.” Writing “Are you collecting money from him?” The man slowly turned his head toward Richard.
“That’s none of your business.” “It is now.” A smirk appeared on the man’s face.
He stepped forward, stopping almost within arm’s reach.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Richard calmly leaned against his cane.
“I haven’t decided yet.” The man gave a quiet laugh.
“Then stay out of it.” He was already turning away, apparently deciding that the conversation was over, when Richard’s calm voice sounded behind him.
“Kain.” That single word was enough.
Kain was beside him before anyone could understand what had happened.
He caught the man’s arm and twisted it sharply behind his back.
A short crack echoed through the market.
The thug cried out and dropped to his knees.
His companions immediately reached for their weapons, but Lloyd was already there.
He said nothing.
He simply looked at them.
That was enough.
Both men froze, their hands stopping before they could even draw their weapons.
Kain kept their leader restrained, preventing him from getting back to his feet.
Richard stepped closer.
“Don’t break his arm.” Kain loosened his grip slightly, but did not release the man.
“Why?” “I need him.” The thug grimaced in pain.
“You’ll regret this…” Richard crouched down in front of him, meeting his gaze without the slightest trace of fear.
“What’s your name?” Silence.
Richard waited several seconds.
“Your name.” The man clenched his teeth.
“Bran.” “Bran.” Richard slowly rose to his feet.
“Who sent you?” Bran laughed, though the expression on his face made it clear that he was no longer comfortable with the situation.
“You really think I’m going to tell you that?” “No.” Richard did not bother arguing.
Instead, he turned toward Sebastian.
“But he will.” Sebastian immediately understood what Richard meant.
He pulled out a small leather pouch.
The coins inside gave a quiet jingle.
Bran’s eyes shifted toward it.
“Money?” Richard looked directly into his eyes.
“No.” He paused briefly.
“A choice.” Richard pointed toward the man being held before him.
“Either he tells me everything he knows.” Then he shifted his gaze toward Bran’s two companions.
“Or you tell me instead.” Silence fell over the square.
None of the three men dared to speak first.
Bran breathed heavily, still struggling against Kain’s grip.
Finally, one of his companions was the first to lower his weapon.
“We work for Crow.” Bran’s head snapped toward him.
“Shut up!” But it was already too late.
Richard froze.
Something inside him seemed to fall into place.
Crow.
Another connection.
He had already encountered the name, but now, for the first time, it had come from the mouth of someone directly involved.
These were the men collecting money from the merchants.
The men who clearly considered themselves the masters of this market.
And they worked for Garrett Crow.
Richard slowly looked at Bran.
Bran met his gaze.
And from the expression on his face, Richard understood.
Bran was no longer afraid for his arm.
He was afraid of what Richard might discover next.
Writing Garrett.
The Grey Hounds.
The port.
The weapons.
And now these men.
Too many threads were converging in the same place.
Yet Richard still refused to believe that Garrett was behind everything.
At least, not without something more substantial than suspicion.
He looked at Bran again.
“What exactly are you doing?” Bran looked away.
“Collecting money.” “For whom?” The man swallowed.
“For people at the port.” “What people?” “We don’t know.” “Who pays you?” Bran fell silent.
Richard said nothing.
He simply looked at Kain.
Kain’s grip tightened ever so slightly.
Bran winced.
“All right!” He let out a heavy breath.
“There’s a man.
His name is Morvain.” Sebastian frowned.
“Morvain?” Richard glanced at him.
“You know the name?” “It’s the name of one of the old merchant houses.” “Old?” “Very old.
They once held considerable influence over northern trade.” Richard looked back at Bran.
“Where is he now?” “At the port.” “What does he want?” Bran shook his head.
“I don’t know.” “And you never asked?” “They don’t pay us to ask questions.” Richard was silent for several moments.
Perhaps that was the first honest answer Bran had given him all day.
Richard turned to Lloyd.
“Take them to the city guard.” Lloyd nodded.
“All right.” Bran tried to pull free, but Kain did not even change his stance.
“Hey, wait…” Lloyd took one of the men by the shoulder.
“Move.” A few moments later, the three men disappeared into the crowd with Lloyd.
Richard remained in the square.
The market slowly returned to its usual noise, but the people were looking at him differently now.
There was no longer the same indifference in their eyes.
Some whispered among themselves.
Others glanced toward him when they thought he was not looking.
The old merchant was still standing behind his stall.
Richard noticed his gaze.
“What?” The old man hesitated.
“My lord…” “Yes?” The merchant looked at the people beginning to disperse, then back at Richard.
“Have you really come back?” The question was simple.
There was no reverence in it.
No fear.
Only a cautious hope the old man himself seemed reluctant to reveal.
Richard looked at him.
And for the first time, he did not search for the right words.
“Yes.” An hour later, they returned to the city administration.
Veyle already knew what had happened and met them at the entrance.
“You decided to start with the thugs?” Richard calmly removed his gloves.
“They decided to start with me.” A faint smile touched Veyle’s lips.
“Then I suppose the city decided to test you.” “And?” “So far, you’ve passed.” Richard looked at him.
“I don’t need tests.” “Then you’d better get used to them.” Veyle turned and spread a map across the table.
“Because there’s another problem.” Richard glanced at the map.
“The port?” “No.” Veyle placed a thin folder beside it.
“The guard.” Richard frowned.
“What about it?” “I can’t trust half the men currently wearing the uniform.” Sebastian frowned.
“Why?” Veyle opened the folder.
“Because some of them are receiving money from somewhere other than the city treasury.” Richard slowly raised his head.
“From whom?” “I don’t know yet.” Silence settled over the room once more.
Richard lowered his gaze to the papers.
A traitor.
He remembered the letter he had received that morning.
Someone inside the House.
And now the same problem was appearing in the city.
Too many coincidences.
Or… perhaps they were not coincidences at all.
Someone could be building a network piece by piece.
And if that was true, they had only seen its separate links.
“How many men do you need?” Veyle looked at him in surprise.
“For what?” “To build a new guard.” “A new one?” “One I can trust.” Veyle was silent for a moment.
“That will take months.” “Then we start today.” The steward studied Richard carefully.
“Are you going to handle this personally?” “No.” Richard turned to Kain.
“Kain.” “Yes?” “Can you choose the men?” Kain considered the question for a moment.
“From whom?” “From those who remain.” Kain looked at Veyle, then at the lists inside the folder.
“I can.” “Then do it.” Richard paused.
“And tell no one why.” Kain looked at him more closely.
There was something different in his eyes now.
Not merely respect.
He was beginning to understand that Richard had no intention of blindly restoring the old order.
He intended to build a new one.
“All right,” Kain replied.
Richard said nothing.
When they left the administration building, the city had already begun to sink into evening twilight.
The snow beneath their feet was slowly turning gray, while lights appeared one by one in the windows of the surrounding houses.
Richard walked slowly.
His cane struck the stone pavement in a steady rhythm.
Sebastian walked beside him.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Sebastian finally broke the silence.
“Do you realize what you just did?” Richard looked at him.
“Not entirely.” “You just intervened in the city’s administration.” “Isn’t that what Veyle wanted?” “He wanted help.” Richard gave a faint smile.
“And I gave him responsibility.” Sebastian smiled as well.
“You really have changed.” Richard did not answer.
He was about to continue walking when he noticed movement on the rooftop across the street.
A raven.
The same one.
The bird sat perfectly still, staring directly at him.
Richard frowned.
“He’s here again.” Sebastian looked up.
“Perhaps it’s just a raven.” “You really think so?” “I think our lands have always had plenty of ravens.” Richard continued watching the bird.
“But this one is different.” Sebastian said nothing.
Richard took several steps forward.
The raven flew to the next rooftop.
Then farther still.
Richard stopped.
The bird waited again.
“Stop.” Sebastian and Kain stopped at the same time.
The raven was perched above a narrow alley.
Something was held in its beak.
A small piece of black cloth.
The bird tilted its head and released it.
The cloth fell into the snow.
Richard slowly approached and picked it up.
A symbol had been embroidered into the black fabric.
A raven.
A wolf.
And between them—a thin silver line.
Richard froze.
Cold ran through his fingers.
But it was not the cold of the air.
The Tree flashed through his memory again.
Vast.
Impossible.
As though it existed beyond time itself.
Then a voice echoed through his mind.
Not the one he had heard in the night.
Another.
Deeper.
Ancient.
“The heir has returned.” Richard drew a sharp breath.
The cloth slipped from his fingers.
Kain immediately noticed the change in him.
“My lord?” Richard picked it up again.
This time, more carefully.
“Nothing.” For several seconds, he stared at the embroidered symbol.
Then he closed his hand around the cloth.
“We’re returning to the estate.” Sebastian looked at him in surprise.
“We were planning to stay until morning.” “I changed my mind.” “Why?” Richard raised his eyes toward the north.
“Because I think I’ve been looking in the wrong direction for far too long.” On the rooftop, the raven spread its wings.
A moment later, it took flight, heading north.
Richard watched it disappear into the darkening sky.
He still did not know what the symbol meant.
He did not know who had left it there.
But now he had a new objective.
Not simply to restore the city.
Not simply to find the traitor.
Not simply to deal with Garrett.
He needed to understand why the symbol of the Tree had appeared in the city now.
And, more importantly, why someone had wanted Richard to see it.