Damned by Him

Xandros knew that the next two days would determine whether his investigation ended with answers or disappeared entirely into the same shadows that had concealed the smuggling operation for months.

He had spent much of the time considering the information Alistair had given him.

Each discovery appeared separate when examined individually, yet together they formed something considerably more deliberate.

Someone had created a system.

And systems could be broken.

Xandros stood near one of the windows in the corridor while Seth waited beside him, his hands loosely folded as he listened.

"We have two days remaining in the Western District," Xandros said quietly, his gaze fixed upon the streets visible beyond the gardens. "By the time those two days are over, I intend to know who is controlling the smuggling routes and why they have gone to such lengths to conceal themselves."

Seth studied him.

"And you believe the merchants will eventually lead us there?"

"I believe the merchants are too obvious."

Seth’s brows drew together.

Xandros finally turned toward him.

"A man who wishes to hide does not place himself where everyone is already looking. The merchants have given us enough information to understand how the operation moves, but the people behind it are unlikely to be sitting inside the Trade Office waiting for us to question them."

Seth nodded slowly.

"So you want us to look where the merchants aren’t."

Xandros’ expression remained calm.

"I want you to look where respectable people prefer not to admit they go."

Seth’s lips curved faintly.

That answer seemed considerably more understandable.

Xandros stepped closer.

"There are places beneath this district where information moves more freely than it does inside official offices. Gambling houses, private taverns, underground markets...places where men speak carelessly because they believe nobody important is listening."

Seth looked toward him.

"And you want me to listen."

"I want you to find out whether any of those places are being used by the middlemen."

Seth nodded.

Xandros glanced briefly around the corridor before lowering his voice.

Then he leaned closer and whispered something into Seth’s ear.

The amusement disappeared completely from Seth’s face.

When Xandros finally stepped back, Seth stared at him.

"You are certain?"

"I would not have asked otherwise."

Seth remained silent for another moment.

Then he slowly nodded.

"I understand."

Without asking another question, he turned and began walking away.

Xandros watched him disappear through the corridor before turning in the opposite direction.

There was one person he needed to check before leaving the residence.

Rosaline.

When Xandros entered their chamber, the room was still quiet.

The curtains had not yet been fully opened, allowing only a soft portion of light to enter through the narrow spaces between them, and Rosaline remained asleep upon the bed with one arm resting beneath her head and the blanket pulled loosely around her.

For once, she was not arguing with anyone.

For once, she was not wandering toward danger.

She was simply sleeping.

Deeply.

Peacefully.

Xandros stood near the bed for several moments.

A faint smile threatened to appear upon his face before he deliberately suppressed it.

Rosaline shifted slightly beneath the blanket, her expression changing as though she had become involved in a dream, but she did not wake.

Xandros lowered his gaze.

"Stay here," he murmured quietly, though she could not hear him.

Then he turned and left.

Outside the chamber, he found one of the servants assigned to attend to the guests.

The woman immediately lowered her head respectfully.

"Your Grace."

Xandros stopped before her.

"I will be leaving the residence, and I do not know when I will return," he explained, his tone remaining calm but firm. "When Lady Rosaline wakes, ensure that she eats properly and that anything she requires is brought to her without delay."

The servant nodded.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Xandros’ gaze sharpened slightly.

"And if she decides that remaining inside the residence is too boring and begins making plans to explore the Western District alone, make certain that someone informs me."

The servant hesitated.

"Should we prevent her from leaving?"

Xandros considered the question.

"Preventing Rosaline from doing something she has decided to do would require considerably more guards than I am willing to assign to the task."

The servant looked uncertain whether she was allowed to smile.

Xandros continued.

"Simply make sure she is not alone."

The woman nodded again.

"I understand, Your Grace."

Xandros turned to leave.

He had only taken several steps when he noticed someone seated near the entrance leading toward the gardens.

Lucien.

The young man sat upon one of the stone benches with one leg crossed over the other, his elbow resting casually against the side of the seat while his fingers supported his chin.

At first glance, there was nothing unusual about him.

Yet something about the posture made Xandros slow.

Lucien appeared entirely relaxed.

Too relaxed.

There was a strange stillness in him that did not resemble the careless confidence Xandros had seen before, and for one brief moment, a warning moved through the Duke’s instincts.

It was not fear.

Xandros rarely experienced fear.

But something about Lucien suggested that the young man was not entirely what he appeared to be.

Xandros said nothing.

Lucien eventually lifted his gaze.

"You are staring at me, Your Grace."

Xandros continued walking until he stopped before him.

"I have been considering whether that is a habit you have developed recently or whether you have always been this comfortable making yourself appear suspicious."

Lucien’s lips curved faintly.

"I wasn’t aware that sitting down had become suspicious."

"Everything becomes suspicious when enough strange things happen around it."

Lucien looked toward him thoughtfully.

Then Xandros spoke again.

"Watch Rosaline."

Lucien’s brows lifted.

For the first time that morning, his expression became genuinely surprised.

"Lady Rosaline?"

"Yes."

Lucien slowly uncrossed his legs.

"Do you suddenly trust me, Your Grace, or have you decided that this is some form of test?"

Xandros looked at him.

Lucien waited for an answer.

None came.

Xandros simply turned and continued walking toward the entrance.

Behind him, Lucien watched him leave.

The question remained unanswered.

And somehow, that silence was considerably more unsettling than any answer could have been.

Far from the Warden’s residence, Seth moved through one of the older sections of the Western District where the respectable streets gradually disappeared behind narrower roads and buildings that had clearly existed long before the district had become an important centre of trade.

The area was considerably quieter.

Not empty.

Never empty.

But quieter in the way dangerous places often were.

People still moved through the streets, yet nobody appeared interested in looking directly at anyone else.

Seth understood immediately that he was in the correct place.

The building he had been instructed to find stood between an abandoned tavern and a narrow shop selling old travelling equipment, its entrance marked only by a dark wooden door and a small symbol carved into the stone above it.

There was nothing written outside.

No name.

No invitation.

Yet Seth knew what waited beneath.

The House of Fortune.

He stepped inside.

The first room appeared almost ordinary, containing several tables and men drinking quietly while a woman stood behind a counter near the far wall, but Seth noticed the narrow staircase descending beneath the building almost immediately.

He did not look at it again.

Instead, he moved toward the counter.

"What are you serving today?" he asked casually, resting one arm against the wooden surface as though he had arrived with no purpose beyond finding a drink.

The woman studied him.

"We serve whatever our customers can afford."

Seth smiled faintly.

"Then I suppose I should find out how expensive your customers are."

Her expression did not change.

But after a moment, she moved aside.

Seth walked past her.

The staircase descended into darkness.

The moment he reached the bottom, the sounds of the upper floor disappeared behind him and were replaced by something considerably louder.

Voices.

Coins.

Laughter.

The sharp sound of dice rolling across wooden tables.

The underground gaming house stretched before him beneath the streets of the Western District, its stone walls illuminated by hanging lamps while men and women gathered around different tables, placing coins and valuables upon games that appeared capable of either making or destroying them before the night ended.

Seth walked slowly through the crowd.

He watched.

Listened.

Waited.

Nobody paid him much attention.

That was useful.

He passed one table where several men argued over cards, another where dice were being thrown across a marked surface, and a third where two wealthy-looking traders were quietly exchanging information while pretending to discuss the value of wine.

Seth continued walking.

Then he saw it.

A door.

It stood at the far end of the underground hall.

Unlike the other doors surrounding the gaming house, this one had two guards positioned outside it.

They were not drinking.

They were not gambling.

And neither of them appeared interested in anything happening around them.

Seth slowed.

That was enough to make him suspicious.

He moved toward another table and pretended to watch the game taking place there while keeping the guarded entrance within his sight.

Nobody entered.

Nobody left.

Several minutes passed.

Still nothing.

Seth’s fingers slowly tapped against the edge of the table.

Then an idea entered his mind.

It was not particularly elegant.

But Seth had never claimed elegance was his greatest strength.

He moved through the crowd until he reached one of the larger gambling tables, where several men were already arguing loudly over a game.

Seth leaned forward.

"I believe he cheated you."

One of the men immediately turned toward him.

"What did you say?"

Seth pointed casually toward another player.

"I said I watched him move the dice when nobody was looking."

The accused man stood immediately.

"I did nothing of the sort."

Seth raised both hands.

"Perhaps I was mistaken."

The first man slammed his hand against the table.

"You were mistaken after accusing him?"

Seth smiled.

"I suppose we’re all about to find out."

Chaos followed quickly.

Voices rose.

Chairs moved.

Someone shoved someone else.

Within moments, the argument had become large enough to draw the attention of people surrounding the table.

The guards outside the door turned.

Seth waited.

One of them moved toward the disturbance.

Then the second.

That was all he needed.

Seth slipped through the crowd.

He reached the door.

Opened it.

And stepped inside.

The room beyond was dark.

Too dark.

The moment the door closed behind him, Seth’s expression changed.

Something was wrong.

He turned.

The door had shut on its own.

A quiet sound moved through the room.

Click.

Seth became still.

Then symbols began illuminating across the floor.

One.

Then another.

Blue light spread across the stone beneath his feet.

Seth’s eyes widened.

"Oh."

The magical symbols suddenly flared.

The entire room erupted with light.

And as the trap began closing around him, Seth realised with absolute certainty that he had made a very serious mistake.

He had believed he was entering the smugglers’ secret.

Instead, someone had been waiting for him to walk inside.

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