Knowledge Is Power: The Last Reader

The stranger remained in the tavern long after Aria, Kelme, and Robert had left.

He sat alone at a small table in the corner, his back to the wall, his eyes fixed on the door. His presence was so unremarkable that the other patrons had already forgotten he was there—a skill that had served him well over the years.

A half-finished drink rested in front of him. He hadn’t touched it in over an hour. He’d been too busy watching, listening, cataloging every detail of the conversation that had unfolded at the table across the room.

The bartender eventually approached, his expression carrying the kind of weary suspicion that came from years of dealing with people who didn’t belong. "You planning to pay for that?"

The stranger looked up, his gaze calm and unhurried. "Of course."

He placed a silver coin on the table, the metal glinting in the dim light. The bartender took it and left, apparently satisfied.

The stranger remained. Waiting. Patient.

---

Two days later, he had his opportunity.

It came in the form of a careless mistake—a bag of sugar left unattended while Aria and Kelme argued about something trivial. The stranger moved quickly, his fingers deft and practiced, and the bag disappeared into his coat before either of them noticed.

He slipped away into the shadows, his steps silent, his heart steady.

The stranger smiled. Then he pulled out the small bag of sugar in a hurry, his movements quick and precise. He ducked into an alley, found a patch of light, and opened the bag.

One pinch. He examined it under the light, turning the crystals this way and that. His expression shifted, the practiced neutrality cracking for just a moment.

For the first time that evening, he looked impressed.

"Interesting."

He tasted a tiny amount, letting it dissolve on his tongue. Then another. His eyes narrowed.

"This isn’t cheap sugar." He examined the crystals again, holding them up to the light. "It’s incredibly pure. Whoever made this knows what they’re doing."

He leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. This was more than a simple illegal operation. This was something else entirely.

A voice came from behind him.

"You know, staring at sugar isn’t going to make it more interesting."

The stranger turned. Aria stood in the doorway of the alley, her arms crossed, her expression one of cold fury. Kelme was beside her, his hand resting casually on his knife.

She pointed at the bag. "You took that."

"I borrowed it."

"You stole it."

"Those are very different words. and I am deeply hurt buy them."

Kelme looked at Aria, a hint of approval in his voice. "I like him."

Aria ignored him. "Who are you?"

The stranger smiled, a slow, deliberate expression. "My name is Vincent."

"Are you a merchant?"

"No."

"A noble?"

"No."

"A criminal?"

Vincent paused, his smile widening. "Depends who is asking."

Kelme nodded, his earlier approval deepening. "Definitely a criminal."

Vincent chuckled, a low, genuine sound. "I heard your conversation earlier. The one with the Canonist. The one about the baker. The one about the illegal sugar."

Aria’s expression hardened. "How much?"

"Enough."

She stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "What do you want?"

Vincent held up the sugar. "This."

Aria blinked. "The sugar?"

"Where did you learn to make it?"

Aria hesitated. For a moment, she considered lying. Then she remembered Milo—his patience, his careful instructions, his endless willingness to explain things she hadn’t wanted to learn, for some reason, she want to talk about him, remember him. because he was real and she needs to go back to him.

"Milo," she said finally.

Kelme looked at her. "You’re bringing him up again?"

"He taught me some things."

Vincent waited, his eyes fixed on her face. "What things?"

Aria shrugged, the gesture carrying a hint of defensiveness. "He called it chemistry. He used to do experiments when he was making medicine for his sister. He’d mix things together and see what happened. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But he always paid attention to what changed."

Vincent looked at the sugar again, his expression thoughtful. "Your teacher sounds dangerous."

Aria smiled, a hint of something like pride in her eyes. "He was."

Kelme frowned. "You’re making him sound like a mad scientist."

"He kind of was."

Aria took the bag from Vincent, her fingers brushing against his. "Milo taught me that tiny differences in a process could completely change the result. A little more heat. A little less time. A different kind of plant. Everything mattered."

She looked at the crystals, her voice dropping to something almost reverent. "So I remembered some of his tricks. I experimented. I failed a lot. But eventually, I figured it out."

Vincent’s smile faded, replaced by something more serious. "You made this yourself?"

"Yes."

"With no proper equipment?"

"Yes."

"And this is your first successful batch?"

Aria nodded. "It took a lot of tries. But yes."

Vincent stared at her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of deception. He found none.

Then he laughed quietly, a sound that was more surprise than amusement. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "You have no idea what you’ve stumbled into."

Aria frowned, her confidence flickering. "What does that mean?"

Vincent walked toward the door of the alley, his steps unhurried. "It means you shouldn’t be selling this to a baker."

Kelme raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Vincent stopped, turning back to face them. "Because a baker sells bread." He smiled, a slow, calculated expression. "I sell opportunities."

Then he left, disappearing into the crowd without a backward glance.

Aria stared after him, her mind racing. Kelme scratched his head, his expression one of complete confusion.

"I have absolutely no idea what that meant."

Aria sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Me neither."

She looked down at the sugar in her hands, the small bag that had caused so much trouble. Then she smiled, a slow, determined expression.

"But I think we’re about to find out."

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