Damned by Him

Alistair Valecrest had spent the greater part of his morning discovering that there were few things more unsettling than receiving an order from the Duke of Dagon without being told precisely what the Duke intended to do with the people he had been ordered to gather, and by the time the sun had risen properly above the stone buildings of the Western District, the Warden had already sent guards in different directions with instructions to locate every merchant whose trade regularly passed through the western routes.

The command had travelled quickly.

Perhaps too quickly.

By noon, fifteen merchants had been gathered within the administrative hall attached to the Warden’s residence, and although none of them had openly questioned why they had been summoned, nervous whispers had followed them through the corridors as they were escorted inside.

Xandros had not yet arrived.

That made them even more uncomfortable.

Alistair stood near the entrance of the hall, watching the merchants settle into the space before him while his fingers repeatedly tightened behind his back, and despite being the man responsible for the Western District, he found himself feeling considerably less in control than he had the previous day.

One by one, the merchants had arrived.

There was Vaelrik Thornmere, a broad-shouldered trader whose caravans transported spices and preserved food through the southern roads, and beside him stood Eldryn Vossar, a thin, sharp-faced merchant known for dealing in expensive fabrics brought from kingdoms beyond the northern mountains.

Mireva Quen had arrived shortly afterward, dressed in layers of dark blue silk and carrying the faint scent of herbs, while Draevan Korr stood several feet away from her with his heavy hands clasped over the handle of a walking cane, his business centred around metals, weapons, and rare stones.

There was Sylvaris Morn, whose trade involved medicinal plants and unusual roots gathered from distant forests, and Bramwell Erix, a merchant whose wagons regularly transported timber and animal hides across the western roads.

Oryndel Faer dealt in perfumes and oils.

Kezra Moonveil traded jewellery and precious ornaments.

Thornev Arkael was known for importing wine and expensive drinks from distant territories.

Beside him stood Lysandra Vey, a woman whose family had spent generations dealing in rare books, maps, and documents.

Morveth Dane traded livestock.

Caelis Dravorn controlled several warehouses near the western gates.

Ysolde Renn was a travelling merchant who sold unusual objects collected from different kingdoms.

Fenric Hollowmere dealt in leather and travelling equipment.

And the final merchant, Zevran Duskryn, had arrived last.

He was perhaps the quietest among them all.

He dealt in goods that changed depending on what the western routes offered him.

That, Xandros had been told, made him one of the most successful merchants in the district.

It also made him one of the most difficult to understand.

The hall grew quiet when the doors finally opened.

Xandros entered.

Alistair immediately straightened.

The fifteen merchants turned.

Xandros walked into the room without acknowledging the tension that followed him, his expression calm and unreadable as his grey eyes travelled across every face gathered before him, and although none of the merchants knew him personally, every one of them understood exactly who he was.

The Duke of Dagon.

Rosaline had remained at the residence earlier with Christophine and Seth, though Xandros had instructed the guards to ensure that they were not disturbed.

For now, this was his matter.

Alistair stepped forward.

"Your Grace, everyone you requested has been gathered."

Xandros glanced toward him.

"Fifteen?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

Alistair nodded.

"These are the merchants who regularly operate through the western routes and deal with incoming and outgoing goods."

Xandros’ eyes returned to the group.

"Good."

The word was simple.

But the room seemed to become quieter.

Xandros walked slowly toward them.

"I did not bring you here to punish anyone."

Several of the merchants visibly relaxed.

Then he continued.

"Unless, of course, I discover that one of you has given me a reason to."

The relief disappeared.

Alistair quietly looked down.

Xandros stopped before the group.

"Several unusual transactions have been reported along the western routes during the last few months. Goods have entered the district without proper records, caravans have disappeared from official routes, and information concerning certain shipments has been deliberately concealed."

A murmur moved through the merchants.

Xandros’ expression remained cold.

"I want to know why."

No one answered.

The Duke waited.

Still nothing.

Finally, Vaelrik Thornmere cleared his throat.

"Your Grace, caravans occasionally disappear in the West. Bandits—"

"Bandits steal goods." Xandros interrupted him and Vaelrik immediately stopped.

Xandros continued.

"They do not erase records."

The merchant’s face paled and a heavier silence followed.

Xandros turned toward Alistair.

"Who manages the records?"

"The Western Trade Office, Your Grace."

"And who has access?"

"Several officials."

"Names."

Alistair hesitated.

Xandros looked at him.

"Your Grace, I—"

"Names."

The Warden immediately began listing them.

As he spoke, Xandros listened without changing his expression, but Rosaline’s absence from the room did not mean the matter had escaped her curiosity entirely, and elsewhere within the residence, she was already beginning to wonder what exactly could make Xandros summon every important merchant in the district.

Inside the hall, however, the Duke continued.

He began questioning them individually.

Mireva Quen was asked about shipments of herbs and unusual ingredients arriving through the western borders, and although she initially insisted that all her goods were properly documented, Xandros quickly discovered that one of her caravans had arrived three weeks earlier without appearing in the district records.

Her explanation was simple.

"The records were delayed."

"By whom?" Xandros asked.

"I don’t know."

"That is unfortunate."

Mireva swallowed.

"It was not my responsibility."

"No," Xandros replied. "But it was your caravan."

The questioning continued.

Draevan Korr denied having any connection to missing shipments, though he admitted that several crates of rare metal had been redirected through an unofficial route after guards warned him that the main road had become unsafe.

Sylvaris Morn had seen unfamiliar wagons travelling through the forest roads.

Bramwell Erix claimed he had heard of merchants being offered unusually high prices to transport sealed packages without asking questions.

Lysandra Vey had discovered that several maps had recently been purchased by unknown individuals who seemed particularly interested in roads that were not commonly used anymore.

Then Ysolde Renn spoke.

"I saw one of them."

Every eye turned toward her.

Xandros looked at the woman.

"One of who?"

Ysolde hesitated.

"The people using the unofficial roads."

The hall became silent.

She clasped her hands together.

"I was travelling near the old western forest route two weeks ago. There was a caravan there, but there were no merchant symbols on it."

"What were they carrying?"

"I don’t know."

"How many men?"

"Six. Perhaps seven."

Xandros’ gaze sharpened.

"Perhaps?"

"It was dark."

"Did you recognize anyone?"

Ysolde slowly shook her head.

"No."

Xandros studied her.

Then Zevran Duskryn spoke.

"You won’t find them among us."

The Duke turned while Zevran stood near the back. "And why are you so certain?"

The merchant’s expression remained calm.

"Because the people you’re looking for aren’t merchants."

Something shifted within the room.

Alistair frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Zevran looked toward him.

"I mean someone is using the merchants."

Xandros’ attention sharpened.

"Explain."

Zevran took a breath.

"Caravans move through the district without attracting attention. People assume every wagon belongs to someone conducting trade. If someone wanted to transport something without being noticed, they wouldn’t need to become a merchant."

"They would only need a merchant’s route," Xandros finished.

Zevran nodded.

The silence that followed was considerably different.

This was no longer an investigation into dishonest merchants.

Someone else was hiding behind them.

Xandros slowly turned toward Alistair.

"Who controls the permits for those routes?"

The Warden’s expression tightened.

"The Western Trade Office."

"And who controls the Trade Office?"

Alistair did not immediately answer.

Xandros noticed.

"Alistair."

The Warden finally raised his gaze.

"I do."

The words settled heavily inside the hall.

Several merchants shifted.

Xandros’ expression did not change.

But his eyes became colder.

Before Alistair could say anything else, however, the doors suddenly opened.

Everyone turned.

Lucien stood at the entrance.

His breathing was slightly uneven, as though he had come quickly from somewhere else, and his eyes immediately found Xandros.

"Your Grace."

Xandros frowned slightly.

Lucien’s gaze briefly travelled around the crowded hall.

Then he stepped closer.

"I apologize for interrupting."

"What is it?"

Lucien hesitated.

For the first time since Xandros had met him, the young man’s expression did not carry its usual easy confidence.

"It’s Lady Rosaline."

Xandros’ brows lifted.

"What about her?"

Lucien looked directly at him.

"She left the residence."

The entire hall seemed to freeze.

Xandros stared at him.

"With who?"

"Christophine and Seth."

Xandros’ expression darkened slightly.

"Where did they go?"

"I don’t know."

That answer did not please him.

Lucien immediately continued.

"They left only a short while ago. I discovered it after one of the servants mentioned seeing them leave through the eastern side of the residence."

Xandros remained silent for a moment.

Then he looked toward Alistair.

"Continue gathering information from them."

Alistair nodded quickly.

Xandros turned back to Lucien.

Lucien waited.

The Duke’s expression remained unreadable.

"I don’t trust you."

Lucien’s brows lifted slightly.

"I gathered that."

Xandros took a step toward him.

"But you know this district better than anyone accompanying me."

Lucien’s expression became serious.

Xandros’ voice lowered.

"Find them."

For once, Lucien did not smile.

"And bring them back."

The hall remained silent as the two men stared at one another.

Lucien finally lowered his head.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Xandros watched him turn toward the doors.

But just before Lucien could leave, something occurred to the Duke.

A thought.

A possibility.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Because Rosaline had not simply stepped outside and he was sure that something had happened to Christophine and Seth.

And now, less than a day later, all three of them were gone.

Xandros slowly turned toward the merchants again.

The investigation was no longer the only problem waiting for him in the Western District.

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