Chapter 23: Bandit Puzzle

I slid on a simple tunic, its fabric soft but firm, not the extravagant wear one might expect for someone of my rank. The casualness of it was deceiving though—every stitch, every fold was meticulous. I liked things neat, precise, down to the smallest thread. It had to be this way. Despite the laid-back front, there was a certain satisfaction in making something look effortlessly perfect. It wasn't about extravagance; it was about control. Control over how I presented myself. Control over every little thing.

The tunic clung to my frame just enough to hint at the work I'd been putting in, yet not enough to draw attention. Dark, earthy tones—simple, but rich in quality. It matched the fitted trousers, their material sturdy yet sleek. I could walk into a field or a courtroom in this, and people would still notice the weight I carried, even if they didn't know why. Underneath all the cold nonchalance, I was a man of detail. Intricacy. Precision.

I glanced at the mirror. The casual appearance was a façade, one I mastered long ago. Appear approachable, disarm with subtlety. But beneath the surface, I was anything but approachable.

Satisfied with the look, I left the room and headed for the study. Margot Blackthorn had been toiling away on the documents I'd assigned her, and Mayer was already in the room, waiting.

The study itself was a reflection of what this estate once was—ornate, yet worn with time. It was called the Sable Chamber, a name that once commanded reverence in this house. Deep mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, their shelves brimming with knowledge that had long lost its relevance. Dust coated the older tomes, like remnants of an era long past, yet still whispering of forgotten power. The grand fireplace sat cold, unused for ages, with a mantle adorned with relics of the Blackthorn family's supposed glory. But none of that mattered now. This room had become nothing more than a hub for paperwork and strategy—a war room in all but name.

As I stepped into the room, Margot tensed immediately, her hands shaking as they hovered over the piles of parchment. I caught the subtle tremor in her fingers, the way her breath hitched at my entrance. Pitiful. But then again, that's exactly what I wanted. Fear was the most effective tool for controlling someone like her—a woman who had once believed herself in control, now broken by the very power she tried to wield.

She could barely look at me, her eyes darting between the documents, Mayer, and the floor. I didn't acknowledge her distress outright, of course. There was no need. I had already established my dominance over her days ago, and the results were clear. She would do as I said without question, no matter how much it terrified her. And if she didn't? Well, that would be Mayer's problem.

Mayer was standing near the center of the room, where he had spread out a large map of Ravenhood on the heavy oak table. The town—or city, depending on who you asked—was sprawling, more complex than one might expect for a place of its size. Its streets wove together like an intricate web, with trade routes snaking out in all directions, connecting Ravenhood to the surrounding territories. This was the lifeblood of the place. And now, it was being bled dry by bandits.

As I approached the table, Mayer wasted no time pointing to a specific area of the map—a trade route that stretched southward, cutting through the heart of the surrounding forests.

"Here, Master Eliot," Mayer began, his tone respectful but businesslike. "The bandits are hitting this southern trade route most frequently. They've been hijacking carriages, stealing goods, and robbing merchants. But it's not just the south. Reports suggest they've been active in the north, east, and west routes as well."

I frowned, glancing at the various points Mayer had marked on the map. "All the major trade routes, then."

Mayer nodded. "Yes, sir. They're spread thin but effective. What's strange, though, is the pattern. It's too coordinated for common bandits. They're not just raiding randomly—they know when and where to strike."

My gaze traced the lines on the map, considering his words. It didn't sit right with me either. Bandits typically operated in chaos, moving wherever the opportunity presented itself. This felt… organized.

"Could they be working under someone?" I asked, voicing the thought that had been gnawing at the back of my mind.

Mayer hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's possible, but we have no solid proof. Just a theory at this point. It could be a higher command, someone directing these bandits from behind the scenes."

I narrowed my eyes at the map. The idea wasn't far-fetched. If anything, it made perfect sense. But the question was why? Why would someone go through the trouble of orchestrating these raids with such precision? What could they possibly gain from disrupting Ravenhood's trade? And more importantly, why hadn't the city's defenses been able to put a stop to it?

"How long has this been going on?" I asked, my voice calm but demanding an answer.

Margot, still trembling, handed me a stack of documents. "Five months," I whispered.

I took the papers from her without a word, flipping through the reports. Five months of bandit activity, and yet the city's guards had been unable to stop it. The more I read, the more suspicious it all seemed. There were incidents detailed in every report, yet few deaths. Very few deaths, in fact. Almost none.

"Interesting," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

Mayer raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"These bandits are robbing carriages that are supposed to be well-guarded," I said, still scanning the documents. "And yet, according to these reports, there are almost no deaths. No significant injuries either. Just stolen goods. It doesn't add up."

Mayer frowned, clearly following my train of thought. "You think there's more to this than common theft?"

"I think," I said, tossing the documents back onto the table, "that someone's playing a much larger game. Bandits don't normally leave their victims alive, especially if they're taking on guards. And yet, here we are, with trade routes supposedly guarded by the city's finest, and not a single guard has been killed in five months of raids?"

"It is suspicious," Mayer admitted, his expression thoughtful. "If these bandits are as well-organized as we suspect, they should've encountered more resistance. And yet, there are no reports of significant skirmishes. It's almost like… they're being allowed to raid."

"Exactly," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Which means someone inside Ravenhood is benefiting from these attacks. Or worse, orchestrating them."

Margot's face had gone pale as she listened to our conversation, but I paid her no mind. Her fear wasn't my concern. What mattered now was getting to the bottom of this. If Ravenhood's trade was being systematically sabotaged, then I needed to know why—and who was behind it.

"And the bandits?" I asked, looking back at Mayer. "What do we know about them?"

"Not much," Mayer admitted. "They've been elusive, striking quickly and retreating before any serious forces can engage them. But there are rumors—whispers of a larger group operating in the area."

"Rumors," I repeated, my tone laced with skepticism. "Well, we'll see how much truth there is to them soon enough."

I glanced at Margot, who was still trembling like a leaf in the wind. "You've done your part," I said coldly. "Continue with the documents. Mayer and I will handle the rest."

She nodded quickly, too terrified to speak, and I turned my attention back to the map. This was more than just a bandit problem. This was something deeper, something far more dangerous.

And I was going to find out exactly what.