Chapter 4: The Immediate Adjustment

“Forget about them,” Javelin said, keeping his voice intentionally quiet even though the rumbling of the iron-clad wheels on the road surface muffled any potential eavesdropping. He dismisses the threat to Kheldar with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was focused only on the implications of the package. “They’ll be looking for us now, and they will expect us to run toward a secure military enclave, assuming Prince Kheldar still relies on the protection of the Crown.”

Kheldar adjusted his position on the hard seat, trying to see his uncle’s face in the impenetrable darkness of the cab.

“If they know I was here, they know I’m investigating them,” Kheldar pointed out, feeling an internal obligation to articulate the risk. “Neutralizing me becomes their first priority before addressing the security breach.”

Javelin merely scoffed, a dry, sharp sound in the confined space. “They might want to neutralize you, but that takes time, access, and resources, all of which we are denying them by moving now. This isn’t a personal vendetta, Kheldar. This is Angarak intelligence operating at the highest levels of the Drasnian military.”

The carriage reached a slight incline and the horses strained, the pace slowing momentarily.

“The contents of that package are what matter,” Javelin continued, tapping a finger thoughtfully against the leather seat. “Lady Merineth only entered the parlor to receive the dead drop, and she left quickly to dispose of it. The efficiency you described points to something extremely time-sensitive and incredibly valuable to the enemy.”

“I assumed it was plans,” Kheldar said. “Something about troop movements, perhaps.”

“Worse than that,” Javelin confirmed, leaning forward, ensuring he whispered directly into Kheldar’s ear so the driver could not possibly overhear the speculation. “Think about General Merineth. He commands the Northern Corps, the main defensive line against any major Angarak offensive. If his wife is compromised, and if that package contained a document for Angarak eyes, it would be the precise list of the General’s forward troop deployments.”

Kheldar felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. General Merineth’s deployment strategy included the disposition of the entire northern defensive line. Providing such details to the Angarak military would allow them to bypass the strongest positions and target the weakest sections, virtually ensuring a successful invasion. The thought was paralyzing. That small slip of paper now held the fate of the capital and perhaps the kingdom.

“If that is true, then by dawn, the Angarak high command will possess the complete operational map of our northern forces,” Kheldar processed, feeling the gravity of the situation fully settle on his young shoulders. He realized the significance of their current predicament. “We can’t wait for the King’s investigation to move forward. If we wait, we lose the North.”

“Precisely,” Javelin agreed, his voice regaining its sharp authority. “Any standard procedure involving palace security sweeps, warrants, and a formal arrest of Lord Kamon or Lady Merineth will take days, possibly weeks, of deliberation, assuming the palace isn’t already fully compromised at a level deeper than we realize.”

Javelin shifted his weight and leaned toward the small, speaking aperture that connected the cab to the driver’s seat. He tapped twice on the wooden frame, signaling the driver to listen closely.

“Driver, change of course,” Javelin commanded, his voice firm and unmistakable. “Forget the northern route. We are not heading to the rural retreat. Turn off at the next major intersection and proceed immediately into the central Vamidor district.”

The driver responded with a curt, single-word acknowledgment, the horses immediately changing pace as he maneuvered the turn.

“Why Vamidor?” Kheldar asked, confused by the abrupt change of plan. Vamidor was an older, densely built commercial and residential area closer to the palace than the rural safe house, but it was far less secure from a military standpoint.

“We need specific resources, and we need them now,” Javelin explained. “The rural estate is meant for long-term concealment and security against external threats. It's meant for months of hiding. But we don't have months. The true threat is the successful transfer of intelligence, not a potential assassin. We are acting as a surgical strike force now, not as fugitives.”

Javelin confirmed they were heading to a place designated only as a secondary safe house, a private manor much closer to the city center, known for its discreet internal structure and multiple avenues of concealed entry and exit. It was a facility built for quick operational deployment, not for extended residence.

“That bookshop must be secured before dawn,” Javelin stated, the decision already made. “The package is likely still in the dead drop. Whatever network they are using, their immediate contacts will be expecting the documents to be retrieved and transmitted overnight.”

“We should deploy palace intelligence assets,” Kheldar suggested. “Surround the bookshop, wait for the pickup, and seize the documents and the operative.” It was the standard, operational response he had expected.

Javelin shook his head sharply. “Too slow, too many personnel, and too many chances for leaks. If my suspicion about the internal breach is correct, asking for official assistance from the Palace Watch means alerting the enemy that we know the location of their drop.”

He looked directly at Kheldar, the action conveying absolute seriousness. “If we need speed, discretion, and deniability, we cannot use Drasnian intelligence resources. We are going to solicit help from outside the official infrastructure.”

Kheldar felt a wave of confusion as they navigated the increasingly narrow and well-lit streets of the central city. Javelin was advocating for hiring mercenaries or criminals.

“You mean contractors?” Kheldar asked, using the euphemism for hired operatives in the intelligence world.

“I mean a criminal,” Javelin clarified, blunt and uncompromising. “The only person in the city I trust for this kind of immediate, precise, and completely silent work is Tylar.”

Kheldar had heard the name throughout the palace guards’ gossip during the night watch. Tylar was not just a criminal; he was the undisputed master criminal of the city’s underbelly, an individual who controlled information, contraband, and loyalty in the volatile docks and lower city quarters. He ran the most efficient network of thieves, spies, and informants that the Royal Guard had spent years trying to dismantle without success.

“Tylar,” Kheldar repeated, the name tasting like illicit smoke on his tongue. “Isn’t he the one responsible for the recent string of high-profile jewel thefts from General Rhel’s residence?”

“Exactly,” Javelin confirmed, a hint of admiration creeping into his tone. “Flawless execution, zero witnesses, and no trace left behind. Tylar’s success relies on absolute security, operational planning, and the complete loyalty of his people. If Tylar accepts a mission, he secures the objective. We need those documents secured.”

The carriage finally pulled off the main street and coasted silently into a darkened alleyway. The area was quiet, shielded completely from the streetlights. They had arrived at the safe house. It was a plain, two-story stone building, indistinguishable from the other commercial properties around it, though Kheldar noticed the unusually reinforced door and the strategically placed window shutters.

Javelin paid the driver, instructing him to wait two blocks away until a specific coded message was delivered.

They slipped inside the building through the back entrance. Javelin moved with the practiced ease of long familiarity, lighting a small oil lamp in the narrow hallway. The building’s interior was spartan and functional, designed for utility.

Javelin led Kheldar into a small, windowless office deeper within the structure. He pulled back a heavy curtain concealing a wall recess. The recess held a highly specialized, secure communication apparatus: a combination of a coded signal lantern and a small box for written messages.

“We transmit a secure ping to Tylar’s known contact point,” Javelin instructed. “He knows the code for this particular frequency. It signals an emergency line, requiring a personal meeting with me or a vetted substitute.”

“A meeting with Tylar himself?” Kheldar asked, feeling the immediate tension of the prospect. Running into palace servants or compromised generals was one thing; stepping into the territory of a genuinely ruthless crime lord was an entirely different matter.

“We require a personal agreement and immediate action,” Javelin emphasized, setting out the components of the communication apparatus. “Only his personal commitment will fulfill the terms we require. I cannot go. I must coordinate the necessary assets to ensure we maintain tight operational control over Kamon and Merineth once we have the documents.”

Javelin looked at his nephew. Kheldar was young, but he had demonstrated exceptional composure during the surveillance and the immediate extraction from the palace. The sheer audacity of the task—recruiting a criminal mastermind—required the authority of the royal family.

“You are going to meet Tylar,” Javelin pronounced without any apology. “You are Prince Kheldar now, representing the highest interests of the Crown. The anonymity of ‘Silk’ will not secure this agreement. You hold the royal authority to promise the payment.”

Kheldar took a deep breath, accepting the gravity of the mission. Prince Kheldar was an unused identity, covered by the merchant persona he hadn’t even fully developed yet. Now, he needed to leverage the Prince's power to bribe a criminal.

Javelin wrote a short, coded message on a thin slip of parchment, detailing only the bare necessity for an immediate meeting and confirmation of a substantial financial incentive. Kheldar secured the note inside the special communication box. He then used the signal lamp to transmit the coded sequence, a series of quick, precise flashes designed to mimic a random flicker of light for any untrained observer.

They waited in silence, the only sound the faint ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall. Ten minutes later, the signal returned, equally precise. Tylar had received the emergency message and was ready to arrange the meeting.

Javelin quickly translated the return code. “Immediate rendezvous. Tylar selected the locale. He expects absolute secrecy.”

Javelin showed Kheldar the translated coordinates. It marked an area deep within the Dockside district, an area characterized by warehouses, dark waterways, and the most volatile collection of inhabitants in the capital. Tylar’s absolute control over this sector made it an ironically secure location for his purposes, as the Watch dared not venture there in any significant numbers, especially at night.

“You travel alone, Kheldar,” Javelin ordered, handing his nephew a short, highly-tempered dagger designed for silent work, not open combat. “No ceremonial weapons. You move light, you move quickly, and you move with absolute awareness of your surroundings. This part of the city lives by different rules. You do not look startled, you do not look wealthy, and you do not engage in conversation with anyone.”

Javelin pulled out a large, heavy leather pouch. The clinking sound inside indicated a substantial amount of Drasnian crowns, enough to pay Tylar’s initial fee for an operation of this nature.

“This covers the initial commitment,” Javelin stressed. “The full payment relies on the successful recovery of the documents. You will also offer the political payment.”

“The political payment?”

“Tylar has a recurring headache named Verrok,” Javelin explained, referring to a well-known, brutal rival gang leader who constantly challenged Tylar’s authority in the western dockyards. “Verrok is a threat not only to Tylar but also a serious drain on Watch resources. He is a primary target for General Merineth’s Watch detail, though they lack the necessary internal information to eliminate him without causing a public disturbance. We have all the operational details necessary because of our own surveillance on the docks.”

Javelin handed over a folded piece of parchment, distinct from the coded messages. This parchment contained highly specific details about Verrok’s current operational schedule, the location of his primary safe houses, and the patrol patterns of his most trusted lieutenants. Complete and damning details from deep within the intelligence service’s files.

“This will allow Tylar to neutralize his rival tonight, safely and cleanly, using the distraction of our current crisis,” Javelin finished. “That information is worth more to him than all the gold in the Royal Treasury. Verrok’s elimination secures his control over the city’s illicit trade for decades.”

Kheldar secured the pouch of coins and the sensitive information inside his tunic, buttoning the outer garment tightly to conceal the bulk. The weight of the information felt heavier than the gold.

“Don’t linger,” Javelin warned. “This meeting must be swift and to the point. Tylar despises wastefulness and inefficiency. Remember, he is a criminal, but for this operation, he is our ally, and he is the only one who can prevent this intelligence transfer.”

Kheldar nodded, moving toward the outer exit without wasted motion. He pulled the hood of his dark traveling cloak low over his face, adopting the hunched, non-confrontational posture common to travelers late at night.

He left the relative safety of the manor safe house and moved quickly, navigating the complex streets leading toward the Dockside. He avoided the main thoroughfares, keeping to the less-traveled side alleys. The air grew progressively colder and thicker with the smell of brine and stale fish as he approached the destination.

The Vamidor district, known for its noise and commerce during the day, was sinister territory after midnight. The city’s sounds—the distant clanking of a train, the low shouts from hidden taverns, and the scraping of metal—seemed magnified in the close confines of the alleys. Kheldar used the skills Javelin had insisted he practice for hours: moving without making the sound of his boots on the uneven pavement, constantly checking his flanks, and maintaining an awareness of every doorway and shadow.

His pre-arranged destination was marked by a narrow street of dilapidated warehouses, entirely unlit by street lamps. The only illumination came from the faint glow of the distant city center filtering through the high buildings. This was the precise kind of place where a misstep meant robbery, injury, or worse.

He entered the specified alley, a deep cut between two massive, derelict storage facilities. The darkness was absolute here, a smothering absence of light where only the most determined, or most dangerous, existed. The ground was slick with foul-smelling liquid.

Kheldar walked slowly and with deliberate steps, relying on the mental map he had memorized and the brief, almost invisible markers that Tylar’s men had set up to guide him—a small chalk mark on a brick, a length of frayed rope tied to a wooden piling.

He finally reached the end of the alley, where it opened onto a smaller, deserted cul-de-sac facing a stagnant canal. The only sound here was the soft lapping of the dark water against the stone embankment.

Tylar was waiting.

He stood near a large stack of abandoned cargo crates, positioned perfectly within the deepest shadow of the dead-end wall. He was not alone. Two massive, silent men flanked him, one on either side, positioned slightly forward, their bodies radiating a coiled tension that suggested immediate readiness for extreme violence. They were the perimeter security, serving as an intimidating silent threat.

Tylar was not physically imposing like his bodyguards, but his presence was a palpable, immediate force. He was slight of build, dressed in high-quality, dark clothing devoid of any distinguishing jewelry or embellishment. His face was sharp, intelligent, and completely devoid of expression, shielded by the deep shadow of the wide brim of a soft, dark hat. Kheldar could only make out the intensity of his gaze.

Kheldar stopped ten feet away from the three figures, deliberately maintaining the distance Javelin had recommended. He did not introduce himself; Tylar already knew who he was.

“You signaled an emergency line,” Tylar’s voice was low, remarkably clear, and entirely devoid of regional accent. It carried a soft, almost educated tone, but with an underlying current suggesting absolute authority.

“The nature of the security breach is catastrophic,” Kheldar replied, keeping his voice level and professional, as if discussing the price of wool. He did not elaborate on the breach, knowing Tylar valued condensed information. “We require your network’s immediate, discreet assistance on a targeted retrieval operation.”

“Retrieval is negotiable,” Tylar stated, his hands remaining tucked into the sleeves of his coat. One of the huge men shifted slightly, creating an unnerving scrape of stone on stone. “The nature of the target determines the price. We do not retrieve items that involve the Queen’s own private guard or religious artifacts—those are too costly in subsequent operational expenses.”

“The target is classified state documentation,” Kheldar clarified, taking a calculated risk by revealing the severity of the situation. “Operational plans for the Northern Corps. The documents were delivered tonight to a dead drop.”

Tylar remained motionless, digesting the information with unnerving speed. The movement of the Northern Corps was a matter of state security.

“The location?”

“‘The Silent Page’ bookshop,” Kheldar specified. He knew Tylar’s intelligence network was comprehensive. Naming the bookshop likely confirmed his familiarity with the intelligence circuits that used it. “It is in the residential district, six blocks from the General Merineth residence.”

Tylar nodded slowly once, the minimal movement barely disturbing the shadows. “A known operational conduit. High risk, high probability of immediate pickup. Why not use the Watch?”

“Internal security is compromised,” Kheldar replied, delivering Javelin’s exact pre-calculated response which would appeal to the criminal’s ego. “We need absolute certainty, absolute silence, and zero risk of official notification. Only your organization possesses the required capacity for that level of penetration without leaving a trace.”

Kheldar reached into his tunic and carefully pulled out the heavy leather pouch. He tossed it onto the ground near Tylar’s feet. The pouch landed with a soft, authoritative thud of gold hitting the mud.

“That is ten thousand crowns for immediate deployment,” Kheldar stated, ensuring the financial scale of the operation was clear. “The payment secures your immediate attention tonight. The second, larger payment will be delivered upon successful recovery of the documents before sunrise.”

Tylar did not bend to retrieve the bag. His gaze remained fixed on Kheldar’s eyes. One of the bodyguards silently reached down and lifted the pouch, weighing it in his massive hand before giving Tylar a small, imperceptible nod.

“The documents are the objective. My expenses are considerable,” Tylar noted, seemingly unmoved by the sum. “Controlling my assets at this speed requires additional compensation.”

Kheldar had expected this and moved to the final, critical element of the negotiation. He produced the folded parchment containing the highly sensitive intelligence about the rival gang leader Verrok. Kheldar did not hand it over; he held it out, letting Tylar observe the sealed document.

“Additional compensation is in the terms of the political contract,” Kheldar said, his voice calm and precise. “This parchment holds the detailed operational breakdown of Verrok’s entire command structure and scheduling, complete with the location of his primary supply line and internal movements. Everything you need to eliminate him cleanly and without subsequent internal resistance that would disrupt your control.”

Tylar’s eyes narrowed slightly, betraying the first flicker of genuine interest Kheldar had observed. A moment of intense calculation passed across the master criminal’s face. The ability to instantly neutralize a major rival, legally or illegally, was the kind of strategic advantage that superseded mere wealth.

“You offer a significant asset,” Tylar acknowledged, his estimation of Kheldar seeming to elevate. He took the parchment from Kheldar’s outstretched hand, his touch light and unexpectedly careful. He did not open it. The seal and the knowledge of its contents were enough. “General Merineth’s deployment plans against the Angaraks, secured from a designated dead drop. An operation of this magnitude requires a guaranteed operational window.”

“The operational window is now,” Kheldar insisted, the urgency in his voice rising. “They must be secured tonight. The transfer will occur before the sun rises.”

Tylar finally broke visual contact with Kheldar, turning slightly to speak to the bodyguard who held the gold. The exchange that followed was conducted entirely in a complex series of hand signs and gestures, executed with incredible speed and efficiency. Kheldar recognized it as a variant of the dockside smuggler’s private sign language, a silent, secure form of communication.

The bodyguard received his instructions, gave a tight nod, and immediately melted back into the shadows they had emerged from, disappearing instantly down the dark alleyway.

Tylar turned back to Kheldar. “The organization is already moving. My assets are currently converging on the bookshop’s perimeter. We will move to secure the location and perform the removal.”

“How will you manage the internal transfer?” Kheldar pressed. “The package must be secured whole. We cannot risk damaging the document.”

Tylar gave a slow, self-assured half-smile, a chilling sight in the darkness. “My organization does not force entry, Prince Kheldar. We procure access. The bookshop uses a complex multi-locking mechanism on the back door and a series of alarm bells attached to the windows. We know the mechanisms well because Verrok’s men tried to steal from there last year, though they failed dramatically in their clumsy attempt.”

Tylar pulled a small, silver whistle from his inner pocket and placed it near his lips, but did not blow. “My primary acquisition specialist is already in position. He will be on the roof of the adjacent building. He is equipped with specialized tools designed to lift the entire safe mechanism from the floor, provided the container is portable.”

“It was a small, sealed package, easily concealed in a hand,” Kheldar recounted.

“Then it is not in a safe, but a specific designated drop box,” Tylar corrected, his logic cutting through the guesswork. “A small, secure cubbyhole inside the wall or behind a loose shelf. Much easier to access if you know the exact location and the means to disarm the secondary security trap.”

Tylar detailed his immediate plan with astonishing clarity and minimal words. He was activating three separate, coordinated teams. The first team, commanded by his most trusted burglar, would perform the precise entry and object retrieval. The second team was tasked with ensuring the operational window—they would initiate a targeted series of disturbances in the surrounding area to distract any unintended observers, primarily the local night watch and any curious neighbors. The third team, led by the man who had just departed with the gold, would use the newly acquired intelligence to target and dismember Verrok’s immediate leadership, creating simultaneous turmoil in the Dockside to prevent any interference with Kheldar’s operation.

“By dawn, the package will be in my possession and secured at a non-compromised site,” Tylar promised. “Your rival will be effectively neutralized. I will contact you with specific drop codes when the objective is met.”

“Excellent,” Kheldar concluded, satisfied with the immediate, overwhelming response. Tylar was terrifyingly efficient, capable of launching a multi-faceted operation across the capital within minutes of receiving the command and the payment.

Kheldar offered a brief, formal nod, acknowledging the agreed-upon terms, and then turned to leave the volatile meeting point. He walked back down the narrow, dark alleyway with the knowledge that he had just placed the security of Drasnia's northern defense into the hands of a master criminal. He had successfully secured the most dangerous, tenuous partnership of his young life.

He retraced his path, moving with renewed purpose now. The danger was still present, but the immediate crisis was being handled.

The journey back to the private manor safe house seemed faster now. He bypassed the carriage, which was still waiting in the designated position two blocks away, and used the same concealed entrance to slip back into the dark stone building.

Javelin was waiting in the small office, illuminated by the low oil lamp, the secure communication apparatus put away. He looked strained and tense, clearly aware of the ticking clock.

“Success?” Javelin inquired the instant Kheldar stepped into the room.

“Tylar accepted the terms,” Kheldar reported smoothly, placing the empty leather pouch back on the table. “He is deploying three teams now, one for the bookshop, one for local distraction, and one for Verrok’s immediate neutralization using the information provided. He assured me the retrieval will be clean, utilizing non-violent means for entry and focusing entirely on securing the specific document.”

Javelin visibly relaxed, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. He finally broke the rigid professional posture he had maintained for hours.

“The use of Tylar was radical, but necessary,” Javelin analyzed, almost speaking to himself. “We will have those documents, Kheldar. And we will use them to destroy General Merineth’s network entirely. The only thing they will retrieve from that bookshop is a void.”

Kheldar felt a surge of professional satisfaction, momentarily forgetting the intense physical danger he had just been in. He secured the most sensitive mission using pure operational tradecraft, leveraging political assets as compensation.

“The operation to retrieve the vital package is underway,” Kheldar stated, formally concluding his report. He then added the necessary qualification, a moment of profound realization settling over him. “My mission now depends entirely on the treacherous management of a master thief.”