Knowledge Is Power: The Last Reader

Aria and Kelme had one simple objective.

Find someone rich. Find someone deserving. Rob them.

Simple.

Except, apparently, the city was full of poor people, honest people, heavily guarded people, and rich people who were somehow even more terrifying than the monsters they’d just fought.

They spent the entire morning watching people. It was exhausting. It was boring. It was making Aria question every life choice that had led her to this moment.

---

Their first target was a merchant leaving the market square. He was well-dressed, carried a heavy coin purse, and walked with the confident swagger of someone who had never been robbed in his life.

"Perfect," Kelme whispered, his eyes fixed on the man.

Aria studied him carefully. "How do you know he’s rich?"

"He’s wearing expensive clothes."

"That isn’t evidence."

"He has a gold bracelet."

"That isn’t evidence either."

"He just dropped a coin and didn’t pick it up."

Aria paused. She watched as the merchant continued walking, completely oblivious to the silver coin glinting in the dirt behind him.

"...That’s pretty convincing."

They followed him for twenty minutes, weaving through crowded streets and narrow alleys, keeping just enough distance to avoid being noticed. He led them to a grand building with guards at the entrance. A sign above the door read: City Tax Office.

Aria immediately turned around.

"No."

Kelme looked disappointed. "Why?"

"Because he’s the local tax collector. If we rob him, he’ll just collect more money from the poor people to make up for it. that’s why he didn’t care about the silver coin, who ever will pick it up will give it back to him with time."

Kelme considered this. "So we’re poor, which means we’re returning it?"

"No."

"Redistributing it?"

"No."

"Correcting the economy?"

"Kelme, stop."

They moved on.

---

Their second target was a wealthy merchant who owned several shops in the commercial district. He was exactly what they were looking for—rich, arrogant, visibly hated by the locals, and barely protected.

"Look at him," Kelme said, pointing. "He’s perfect."

"How do you know he’s hated?"

"Everyone’s glaring at him."

Aria looked around. Kelme was right. The merchant walked through the market with his chin high, his nose turned up, completely oblivious to the hostile stares following his every move.

"Okay, I see your point."

They watched him enter his warehouse, a massive building at the edge of the district.

"Let’s go," Kelme said.

"Now?"

"Now."

They slipped inside through a side door, their hearts pounding with anticipation—

And discovered that the warehouse was filled with food.

Not weapons. Not gold. Food. Thousands of sacks of grain, barrels of flour, crates of dried fruit. The smell of wheat and oats filled the air, warm and earthy.

Aria stared.

Kelme stared.

A worker noticed them. He was a thin man in an apron, holding a clipboard. His eyes narrowed.

"Can I help you?"

Aria smiled nervously. "Nope."

They left.

Outside, Aria sighed, rubbing her temples. "We almost robbed a food warehouse."

"We didn’t know."

"That’s why we’re doing research first."

Kelme frowned. "I preferred it when we were criminals without standards."

"We were never criminals."

"We’re planning a robbery."

"That’s different."

"How?"

Aria opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

"...Shut up."

---

Their third target was a nobleman. Finally. A real, actual, money-having, privilege-abusing nobleman.

This time, they did it properly. They investigated thoroughly, gathering information with the diligence of scholars studying an ancient text.

Aria learned his schedule. He woke at nine, breakfast at ten, lunch at one, dinner at seven. He visited his favorite restaurant every Thursday, his favorite gambling house every Saturday, and his mistress every Wednesday.

Kelme studied his security. Two guards at the front gate, one at the back, and a patrol that circled the grounds every hour. Not impenetrable, but not easy either.

Between them, they produced a detailed map of the nobleman’s house. It included every entrance, every window, every potential hiding spot.

Kelme looked impressed. "You’re getting good at this."

"I am not becoming good at crime."

"You memorized his entire weekly schedule."

"For research."

"You followed him for six hours."

"For research."

"You drew a map of his house."

Aria snatched it away. "You included the bathroom."

"That was tactical."

"How is knowing where his bathroom is tactical?"

"If we need to hide quickly, it’s good to know where the servants won’t be."

Aria stared at him for a long moment.

Then they discovered the truth.

The nobleman wasn’t actually rich. He was drowning in debt—the kind of soul-crushing, generations-ruining debt that came from years of bad investments and worse gambling. The expensive clothes? Borrowed. The mansion? Mortgaged. The horses? Leased. Even the fancy ring on his finger belonged to his wife, who was apparently considering leaving him.

Aria slowly lowered the map.

"We’re terrible at this."

Kelme nodded. "Remarkably."

---

By sunset, they had rejected twelve targets.

One was too poor. One was too honest. One was too dangerous. One was protected by the royal guard. One was actually a retired adventurer who still kept his sword sharp. One was a priest. One was a child. And one turned out to be a wanted criminal who had somehow managed to get robbed before they could rob him.

Aria sat on a bench, exhausted. Her feet ached. Her head throbbed. She’d spent an entire day doing surveillance on people who weren’t worth robbing.

She buried her face in her hands. "We need someone rich enough to have money, bad enough to deserve losing it, and stupid enough not to have an army protecting them."

Kelme sat beside her. "That’s surprisingly specific."

"Because apparently we’re looking for a mythical creature."

Kelme thought for a moment. Then his expression changed, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Aria noticed immediately. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You’re smiling."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"That means I thought of something."

Aria’s eyes narrowed. "That’s usually when things go wrong."

Kelme stood, brushing off his clothes. "Come on."

"Where?"

"I think I know exactly who we should investigate."

Aria hesitated. "Are they rich?"

"Yes."

"Deserving?"

Kelme’s smile widened. "Very."

"Dangerous?"

He paused. "Extremely."

Aria groaned. "Of course."

Kelme started walking. She followed. Because apparently, after surviving a dungeon, a mimic, an undead nightmare, and nearly getting killed, their next great adventure was going to be committing a very carefully researched robbery.

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