Knowledge Is Power: The Last Reader

The sugar sat on the table.

Three small bags. That was their entire operation. Three tiny pouches of brownish crystals, barely enough to sweeten a few cups of tea, representing hours of work, multiple failures, and a debt that was growing larger by the day.

Aria stared at them. Kelme stared at them. Neither spoke.

Finally, Kelme broke the silence. "We’re criminals now."

Aria nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on the bags. "Professionals."

"We have three bags."

"Everyone starts somewhere."

"We’re going to get arrested."

"Only if we’re stupid."

Kelme looked at her, his expression carrying the weight of recent experience. "We’ve spent the last two days getting chased by a shopkeeper."

Aria paused, her confidence flickering. "Okay. We need help."

---

Their first problem was finding someone who could actually sell illegal sugar.

Their second problem was that they knew absolutely nobody.

Their third problem walked directly into them. Literally.

A man wearing the robes of the Church collided with Kelme outside a crowded tavern. The impact sent them both stumbling, and the man’s voice rose in immediate indignation.

"Watch where you’re going, you undead-looking bastard!"

Kelme stopped, his eyes narrowing. Aria stopped beside him, her hand instinctively reaching for the sugar bag in her coat.

The man looked at them—really looked at them. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and carried the kind of weariness that came from dealing with the worst of humanity on a daily basis.

Then he looked at the sugar bag sticking out of Aria’s coat. His eyes narrowed.

"Interesting."

Aria immediately covered it with her hand. "It’s flour."

The man smiled. It was not a warm smile. It was the smile of someone who knew exactly what he was looking at. "Of course it is."

He looked exhausted. His robes were rumpled, his hair was disheveled, and there was a stain on his sleeve that might have been wine or might have been something worse. He was poorly dressed for a priest, far too comfortable insulting everyone around him, and entirely too confident for someone who looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Kelme whispered, "Who is this?"

The man heard him. His smile widened. "Robert."

He straightened his robes, a gesture that only made them look more rumpled. "Canonist of the Church."

Then he sighed. "Unfortunately."

Aria studied him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You don’t seem very religious."

"I work for the Church. There’s a difference."

Kelme nodded slowly. "Fair."

Robert glanced around, his eyes scanning the crowd. "You two are looking for something."

Aria said nothing, her expression carefully neutral.

Robert smiled. "Money."

Still nothing.

"Connections."

Aria’s eyes narrowed.

Robert’s smile widened. "Now we’re getting somewhere."

---

They bought him a drink.

Robert ordered the expensive one. The kind that cost more than most people made in a week. Kelme watched the bartender pour it, his expression one of profound regret.

"That cost more than our entire operation."

Robert raised his glass, a glint of amusement in his tired eyes. "That’s why I’m the professional."

Aria leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need someone who can move something that’s banned."

Robert slowly lowered his drink, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Drugs?"

"No."

"Stolen artifacts?"

"No."

"People?"

Aria immediately frowned. "No."

Robert shrugged, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Then you’ve chosen a surprisingly boring crime."

"Sugar."

Robert stared at her. For the first time, he looked genuinely confused. "You’re smuggling sugar?"

"Selling. Illegal sugar."

"Yes."

Robert rubbed his forehead, his exhaustion suddenly visible. "I have defended nobles accused of bribery, fraud, corruption, and things I am legally forbidden from describing." He looked at Aria, his expression one of genuine disbelief. "And somehow this is the strangest thing I’ve heard this month."

Kelme leaned forward, his voice carrying a note of desperation. "Can you help us or not?"

Robert smiled. "Of course."

Aria blinked, her eyes widening with hope. "Really?"

"No."

Kelme sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Of course."

Robert finished his drink in a single, practiced motion. "But I know someone who can."

He leaned across the table, his voice dropping to match Aria’s conspiratorial tone. "A baker."

Aria frowned. "A baker?"

"Not just a baker." Robert’s eyes gleamed with knowledge. "He supplies half the noble houses in the capital."

Aria’s expression changed. Now she understood. Someone with wealthy customers. Someone with contacts. Someone already moving goods. Perfect.

Robert stood, brushing off his robes. "I’ll introduce you."

Kelme smiled, a glimmer of hope appearing on his face. "Great."

Robert held out his hand. "Payment."

Aria stared at him. "We don’t have money."

Robert stared back. "Then we’re going to have a very interesting conversation about what exactly you think an introduction is worth."

Kelme slowly looked at Aria. "Maybe we should’ve robbed that shopkeeper."

Aria ignored him. She reached into her coat and pulled out one of the tiny sugar bags. She set it on the table between them.

Robert looked at it. Then at her. Then back at the bag. His expression shifted to one of deep, profound disappointment.

"That’s it?"

Aria nodded, her jaw set with determination. "It’s our first batch."

Robert sighed, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his soul. "God help me."

He took the bag, weighing it in his hand like he was assessing its value. "Congratulations."

Kelme blinked, confused. "On what?"

Robert smiled, his tired eyes glinting with amusement. "You’ve just hired a lawyer."

Aria looked confused. "You’re a Canonist."

Robert adjusted his robes, the movement somehow making them look even more disheveled. "Exactly."

He walked toward the door, his steps confident despite his exhausted appearance. "And if you’re going to become criminals, children, you’re going to need someone who knows how to make criminals sound respectable."

Aria and Kelme exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations that happens between people who’ve been through too much together. Then they followed him.

---

Neither noticed the man sitting quietly in the corner of the tavern.

He had been listening the entire time, his cup of cheap ale untouched, his eyes following the trio’s every move. His clothes were plain, his face unremarkable, his presence so subtle that even the most observant patron would have overlooked him.

And when Robert left with them, the stranger quietly placed his cup down.

Three words escaped his mouth, spoken in a voice that carried the weight of someone who knew exactly what he’d just witnessed.

"Illegal sugar."

He smiled, a slow, calculated expression that didn’t reach his eyes.

"This could be interesting."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!