HFfC: CH19: The Game of Rats

The next day, while Erwin was methodically closing his final cases, refusing any new clients as he prepared for his next move, a different kind of business was being conducted across town. Inside the newly constructed Hao Pavilion, the air was thick with the scent of incense and intimidation.

Sebas, dressed in elegant Eastern-style robes with a veiled hat that obscured his features, stood silently in the shadows of a grand audience chamber. At the center of the room, on a high, throne-like seat, sat a woman in her thirties. She had the dark, sun-kissed skin and pointed ears of a desert elf, and her beauty was as sharp and unforgiving as a shard of obsidian. She was Misela, the public head of the Hao Pavilion. On a lower tier of seats to her left, Amanzio, the former boss of the Viper gang, sat with a sullen, cowed expression.

Kneeling on the floor before them were two sweating, terrified Watcher officers—a beastman and a human.

Sebas leaned in and whispered something in Misela's ear. She nodded, then directed a contemptuous sneer at the two kneeling men. "Is this the only sincerity you can muster?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous purr.

"This is all we could get, Mistress Misela," the beastman watcher pleaded. "The fact that we weren't caught in Captain Dubois's purge is a miracle in itself."

The human officer nodded frantically. "Please, give us some leniency. Captain Céline has turned the whole precinct upside down. She's watching everyone."

Misela snapped her fingers. Amanzio rose reluctantly, walked to the back of the room, and returned with a small, burlap-wrapped bundle, which he tossed onto the floor in front of the officers. The rich, aromatic scent of rare spices filled the air.

"Take that," Misela commanded, "and deliver it to The Cardinal Wolves. You have seven days."

The officers looked at the bundle in shock. "Mistress! How can you—" They looked at Amanzio, their old contact, as if for help, but he refused to meet their gaze.

Misela rose and stepped down from the higher platform, the click of her heels on the polished wood the only sound in the room. She walked right up to the human officer, placed the point of her sharp heel on the back of his head, and forced his face to the ground. She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper meant for both of them.

"He is not the boss around here anymore," she hissed. "You work for me now. So you will either comply, or I will have you buried in the foundation of this building. I hear the added minerals are good for the structural integrity. Isn't that right, advisor?"

Sebas, still standing in the shadows, gave a single, silent nod.

The beastman officer groveled, scrambling to grab the bundle of spices. "Y-yes, Mistress Misela! We'll do it!" he squeaked, grabbing his human companion and practically dragging him out of the room as they skittered away.

The moment the doors closed, leaving them alone, Misela's entire demeanor changed. The ruthless crime lord persona vanished. She turned to Sebas, a sultry, playful smile on her face. "Did I do a good job, Master?" she purred, wrapping her arms and a leg around him like a contented cat.

Sebas simply placed a calming hand on her head. "Yes, Misela. A very good job."

"Kyaa! Master gave me a compliment!" she squealed, hugging him tighter.

From his seat, Amanzio grumbled, "You psycho."

Misela's head snapped around, her eyes flashing with her former menace. "Shut the fuck up, Amanzio!"

The ex-boss just scowled. "I don't get it. Why go to such lengths just to deliver a small bundle of spices to The Cardinal Wolves' boss? They're our rivals."

Sebas, who hadn't moved, looked out towards the door, a serene, unreadable smile hidden beneath his veil.

"Just helping a friend," he said.

…

Five days passed. Erwin was summoned to the Animus Hub by Sebas.

"I have arranged an opportunity for you to make a memorable entrance," the butler's solid form said, standing beside Erwin in the quiet void. He explained the plan, detailing a time and a place.

Erwin's expression was grim. "Sebas... you're sacrificing your informants inside the precinct just so I can make an entrance."

"First impressions matter, Young Master," Sebas replied calmly. "And do not worry. I will have far better informants in place sooner than you think."

Erwin managed a small, wry smile. "Just don't ask for too many favors once I'm inside, okay?"

"No promises," Sebas said, his own smile hidden beneath his veil.

…

The next day, Erwin walked towards the precinct, deliberately taking the route Sebas had described. He rounded a corner into a secluded market alley, and sure enough, there they were: the same two corrupt Watcher officers from the Hao Pavilion, furtively handing a familiar burlap-wrapped bundle to a known member of The Cardinal Wolves gang. Erwin, blending into the shadows as an unremarkable background figure, took several clear, damning photographs before continuing on his journey.

He arrived at the precinct and announced himself. "I'm here to see Captain Dubois."

The officer at the front desk looked up, her eyes widening in recognition. "Oh! Mr. Smith! Of course, right this way. But, um, before you go in..." She slid a piece of paper and a pen towards him. "Could you sign this?"

Erwin looked at the paper. It was a blank page. "Last time I was here, I didn't need to sign anything."

"Yeah," the officer said, blushing slightly. "This sign... it's for me."

Erwin chuckled and scribbled his now-famous signature, then followed the escorting officer. He noticed the precinct was still in a state of high maintenance. Officers were hurrying back and forth, many of them doing jobs that would normally be handled by two or three people. It was clear the recent purge had significantly decreased their numbers.

He was shown into Céline's office. The escort closed the door as he left, leaving Erwin and the captain alone.

"So," Céline said, looking up from a stack of paperwork. "Do you have an answer to my offer?"

Erwin reached into his coat, but instead of a letter of acceptance, he pulled out a series of photographs and tossed them onto her desk. "I'll give you my answer after I hear what you'd do about them."

Céline picked up the photos, her sharp green eyes scanning them. "What is this?"

"Spices," Erwin said. "A particularly potent and illegal narcotic from the western continent. And, coincidentally, I found two of your officers delivering a package of it to a lieutenant of The Cardinal Wolves. You know what the foundation of the TCW's enterprise is, don't you?"

Céline's expression hardened. "Drugs."

"So you do know," Erwin said. "Now, what are you going to do about these officers of yours?"

Céline stood up, her face a mask of cold fury. "If what these photos show is true, it doesn't matter what they were handing over. A Watcher officer meeting secretly with a known gang member is a crime in itself." She didn't hesitate. "I'll have them arrested now."

She was already walking towards the door when Erwin's voice stopped her. "It seems you're always this eager, huh, Captain?"

Céline paused, her hand hovering over the door handle.

Erwin walked over to the couch in her office, sat down comfortably, and crossed his legs. "Let them be," he said calmly. "For now."

Céline turned from the door, her eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "What do you mean, 'let them be'? They are corrupt Watchers dealing narcotics with a major criminal organization. It's an open-and-shut case."

Amanzio, the ex-Viper boss, paced the audience chamber, his frustration evident. "I still don't get it," he grumbled to Sebas. "We just handed our best assets in the Watchers to The Cardinal Wolves on a silver platter. How does that help us?"

"Captain," Erwin said calmly, gesturing to the chair behind her desk. "Consider the facts. Your precinct is bleeding manpower after the purge. You are stretched thin. Arresting these two low-level officers now gives you what? A small, satisfying victory, yes. But it cuts off a potential source of information and does nothing to the leadership of The Cardinal Wolves."

Sebas stood perfectly still, his veiled gaze fixed on Amanzio. "The Cardinal Wolves are an infection in this city," he said, his voice a soft, serene whisper. "You do not cure an infection by simply cleaning a surface wound. You must introduce a subtle poison that will kill it from the inside out."

Céline slowly walked back to her desk but remained standing, her arms crossed. "Are you suggesting we use them? Turn them into informants?"

"No," Erwin countered. "That would require trust, and they are untrustworthy. I am suggesting we use them as rats. Unknowing couriers. We will let them run back to their masters, thinking they are safe. We will let them continue their illicit partnership."

"But they'll be working for TCW now!" Amanzio argued. "They'll be feeding them real intel from the Watchers, making them stronger!"

"They will be feeding them exactly what we want them to," Sebas replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. "The spices were a gift. A gesture of goodwill to establish their value to The Cardinal Wolves. From now on, they will be bringing them intelligence. And we will be the source of that intelligence."

Céline's eyes widened slightly as she began to see the shape of his plan. "So we feed them... what? False information?"

"Not false," Erwin corrected. "That would be too easily discovered. We feed them real information. Small, digestible truths. We'll leak the location of a minor TCW stash house, a low-level dealer. Your officers will get an 'anonymous tip' and conduct a successful, high-profile raid. The Cardinal Wolves will lose a small asset, but our two rats will be lauded as invaluable, having given them a warning that 'almost' saved the day."

Amanzio was still confused. "So we help the Watchers? How does that help us?"

"The Watchers will unknowingly be our scalpel," Sebas explained patiently. "The intelligence we leak to them will be precise. It will target TCW's supply lines, their distribution hubs. Every time the Watchers make a bust, it will be a piece of TCW's empire crumbling. The Cardinal Wolves will grow paranoid, suspecting a leak from within, but they will never suspect the two 'loyal' Watcher contacts who keep bringing them seemingly valuable information."

"You want to play them against each other," Céline breathed, the full, audacious scope of the plan finally clicking into place. "We chip away at TCW's operations, making my precinct look incredibly effective and rebuilding public trust, all while the rats dig themselves deeper into the gang's confidence."

"TCW's house is built on a foundation of sand," Sebas concluded. "We will simply provide the gentle, persistent stream of water that will wash it all away. And when they finally collapse, who do you think will be there to claim the territory and the businesses they leave behind?"

Amanzio stared at Sebas, his mouth slightly agape, a look of dawning, terrified awe on his face. He finally understood.

In her office, Céline stared at Erwin, seeing not just a private detective, but a master strategist. She slowly sat down behind her desk, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her own face.

"Set it up," she said. "Tell me what you need."

Erwin leaned back into the couch, a confident smirk on his face. "Welcome to the real game, Captain."

Sebas gave a slight, almost imperceptible bow to Amanzio. "That," he said softly, "is how the game is played."

…

In a smoky, dimly lit backroom that served as his headquarters, Guilon, the brutish and cunning leader of The Cardinal Wolves, looked over a report. A cruel smile played on his lips.

"Hmmm," he rumbled, tapping the report with a thick finger. "So this new 'Hao Pavilion' knows its place, huh?"

His lieutenant, a weaselly man with a perpetual smirk, nodded eagerly. "It seems so, boss. I heard the new woman in charge is some dark elf. Probably knows she can't survive in this city without our protection. So, as a gesture, she sent over the two Watcher contacts the Vipers had in their pocket."

Guilon let out a low chuckle. "Quite the gift they gave. Send some of our men over. Tell them we appreciate the gesture." His eyes narrowed. "And tell them to observe. I want to know if their 'sincerity' is genuine."

The lieutenant bowed. "Consider it done, boss."

As the lieutenant left, Guilon was alone. He picked up the report again. One beastman, one human. Both Watchers. He leaned back, grabbing a fat cigar and lighting it, the smoke curling around his head. Let's see how useful these new pawns really are.

…

Back in Captain Dubois's office, the intense meeting was coming to a close.

"Are you sure about this, Erwin?" Céline asked, her expression serious.

"Yes," Erwin replied, his tone firm. "I need to learn the system properly if I'm going to navigate it. But I can rely on you to ensure I receive an honest review, correct?"

"Yes," Céline confirmed, a hint of respect in her voice. "I will personally oversee your progress. I will make sure your rookie program is judged fairly."

Erwin stood, offering a slight nod. "Well then, I'll see you next month, Captain."

As he walked down the stairs and through the bustling precinct, he ran into Lomare. The Sergeant's face lit up when he saw him.

"Erwin! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, not much," Erwin said casually. "Just answering a question the Captain had for me, that's all."

Lomare's eyes widened, a hopeful, excited grin spreading across his face. "Don't tell me... Did you accept the offer?"

"Yeah," Erwin confirmed.

Lomare let out a whoop of joy and, in a completely unprofessional but heartfelt gesture, threw his arms around Erwin in a quick, powerful hug. "Woaahh! Let's go, man!" He let go, his face beaming. "You chose my detective division, right? We can start today!"

"Wait for three months, will you?" Erwin said, holding up a hand.

Lomare's face fell, his excitement instantly replaced by utter confusion. "What? Why... oh god. Don't tell me you chose to go through the training program?"

Erwin simply nodded. "It's still a privilege. I just need three months. One and a half for the classroom portion, and one and a half in the field. The usual program takes a minimum of one year."

Lomare's mind finally put the pieces together. "But... I thought Captain Dubois was going to use her fast-track slot to hire you directly."

"She used it to hasten my training program," Erwin clarified. "And for now, that's enough."

Lomare stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing, slapping Erwin on the shoulder. "Young blood, huh? Always have to do things the hard way." He grinned. "Seems I'll need to work hard so a rookie doesn't outrank me in his first year."

Erwin chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "I haven't even started."

They both laughed, a new, powerful alliance forged in the heart of the changing precinct.

…

Night had fallen, but in this part of the city, it was brighter than day. The Hao Pavilion was a beacon of light and ambition, a thirty-story tower of indulgence that pierced the night sky. Lavish and impossibly bright, its glowing lanterns and enchanted lights could be seen from several blocks away, a dazzling monument to the city's newly organized vice.

Sebas stood on the highest public level, the 30th floor. He walked to the polished brass guard rail, looking down into the building's heart. A massive, cylindrical atrium, a dizzying drop, formed the core of the Pavilion, allowing every patron to see and be seen. It was a masterpiece of social engineering, designed to stoke the fires of envy and ambition. Looking up, customers would feel a pang of jealousy for the luxury they had yet to attain. Looking down, they would feel a smug satisfaction for the station they had already achieved.

From his vantage point, the entire hierarchy of the city's nightlife played out below him like a grand, multi-layered opera.

On the lowest levels, the first through fifth floors, was the Public House. It was crowded, loud, and boisterous, a cacophony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Here, minor merchants and off-duty laborers rubbed shoulders with curious students, all nursing cheap ale and enjoying the spectacle. A stern-faced woman, Madam Shelara, kept a watchful eye, ensuring no fights broke out and that everyone paid their tab.

Higher up, on floors six through ten, was the Merchant's Lounge. The music was softer, the seating more plush. Successful guild members and minor city officials conducted business in hushed tones, their conversations punctuated by the smooth clinking of expensive wine glasses. Here, Madam Viviane, a woman with a keen ear for gossip, moved gracefully between tables, ensuring her high-paying clients were well-cared for. Sebas could just make out a snippet of conversation: "...the new Watch Commander is shaking things up. Bad for 'business'..."

The Gilded Cage, floors eleven to fifteen, was a realm of pure opulence, where whispers and secrets were the currency of choice. Wealthy traders and disgraced nobles bought the company of exquisitely dressed courtesans, their laughter a delicate, practiced sound. The madam here, Isabelle, was known for her absolute discretion.

And so it went, higher and higher. Each set of five floors was its own self-contained kingdom, managed by its own 'Madam', each more refined and exclusive than the last. Sebas's eyes drifted over it all, the grand, glamorous facade that hid a web of information gathering. He saw a group of well-dressed merchants on the 17th floor, laughing and pointing down at a former colleague on the 12th. He noted two noblewomen on the 21st, whispering behind their fans as they watched a wealthy shipping magnate try to impress a courtesan on the 25th floor.

His own silent figure, a veiled silhouette leaning against the railing of the highest, most exclusive floor, had not gone unnoticed. The highest-paying customer at that moment was the magnate on the 25th floor. The top five floors—the Imperial Suites—had never been opened to the public, their very existence a tantalizing mystery. The sight of a lone figure on the 30th floor had already started whispers on the floors below. Who was he? The owner? A guest of unimaginable importance?

His observation complete, Sebas stepped back from the railing, melting back into the shadows. He walked to a discreet, unmarked door at the back of the floor and ascended a hidden staircase. He emerged into his personal office on the secret 31st floor, the true, unseen peak of the tower, leaving the symphony of desire and envy to play out below him.

In his private office on the secret 31st floor, Sebas read through the day's intelligence reports, the city's myriad secrets laid bare on the papers before him. One particular report held his attention.

"The Evercrest nautical situation is still not calming down," he mused aloud. "It seems there is more to this situation than simple anti-piracy patrols."

From a kneeling position on the floor, Misela, his dutiful lieutenant, spoke. "Master," she said, her voice a respectful murmur. "One of the sailors at the docks had a loose tongue after a few drinks. He mentioned that the heightened security is a direct command from the highest level of the naval headquarters."

Sebas placed the report down. "Hmmm. The Fleet Admiral himself, you say?"

"Yes, Master," Misela confirmed. "The sailor said they are preparing to ensure the smooth and safe arrival of an 'important guest'."

"Expand our bugs around the main harbor," Sebas commanded, using their term for their network of low-level informants. "I want to know every ship that comes and goes, every new face on the docks. The beggars, the dockworkers, the tavern wenches—double their pay if you must."

"It can be done, Master," Misela said without hesitation.

Sebas looked at her, his veiled gaze seeming to pierce right through her. "Is there something else you wish to tell me, Misela?"

She bowed her head slightly. "I only wish to inform you, Master. One of our bugs in the slums reports that The Cardinal Wolves have been preparing to move their base of operations. It seems they will be sending some of their men to our Pavilion soon, to 'test the waters'."

"Alright," Sebas said, a note of finality in his voice. He stood up from his desk. "I suppose I will do the bug hunt myself tonight."

Misela simply bowed her head lower. "Have a fulfilling hunt, Master."

Sebas walked to the grand, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the dazzling city. He didn't bother to unlatch it. With a soft, almost inaudible push, the reinforced glass swung open into the night. He stepped out onto the ledge, then simply dropped into the darkness, a silent, falling shadow against the bright lights of the tower.

Misela rose, walked to the window, and gently closed it, a serene, confident smile on her face.

…

Sebas moved like a ghost across the moon-drenched rooftops of the merchant's district. He was a man on a mission, and his mission was to intercept an assassination. He arrived at the target location—a lavish manor house—and melted into the shadows of a towering chimney, his eyes fixed on a third-story balcony.

He didn't have to wait long. Two lithe figures, half-elves, scaled the manor's ornate stonework with a silent, practiced grace. The half-moon, the only significant light in the night sky, cast their climbing forms in sharp, fleeting silhouette. They slipped over the balcony railing and into the wealthy merchant's son's bedroom.

The female assassin went first, a shadow within shadows. She moved from corner to corner, her senses attuned to the slightest sound, the smallest shift in the air. After a moment, she gave a single, sharp nod. The room was clear.

The male assassin moved with a brutal, liquid swiftness. He was at the bedside in an instant, one hand clamping over the sleeping young man's mouth, the other drawing a wicked-looking dagger across his throat in a single, smooth motion. A spray of hot blood arced through the air, splattering across the silken bedsheets and the ornate headboard.

The job was done. But their professionalism ended there.

The woman immediately went to a large dresser, rummaging through the drawers and pulling out handfuls of jewelry and gold coins. "Brother," she whispered urgently, "hurry up, help me with this."

The man joined her, and they began hurriedly stuffing the valuables into a leather satchel.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound was soft but crisp, cutting through the silence of the death-filled room. Both assassins froze, dropping into defensive crouches, their daggers flashing in the moonlight.

A figure stood on the balcony, perfectly framed by the glowing half-moon behind him. It was Sebas. He stopped clapping. "Excellent work," he said, his voice a calm, conversational murmur. "Truly."

The two assassins were on high alert, their eyes darting around the room, assessing their new opponent, searching for an escape route. "Who the hell are you?" the woman hissed.

"You're not his butler," the man added, his voice a low growl. "Are you the head merchant's man?"

Sebas chuckled softly. "No, no. I am not his butler." He stood with a relaxed confidence that was more unnerving than any threat. The assassins could tell this man was either incredibly powerful or ready to die.

"Are you here to capture us?" the man asked.

"Capture you? No, no…" Sebas replied, taking a single, unhurried step into the room. "I am here because of your reputation. Though, I must admit, I am now forced to reassess my information."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the woman demanded, her grip tightening on her dagger.

"I require individuals of a certain talent," Sebas explained. "You two move well. You kill... adequately... but it needs improvement." He looked directly at the woman. "And you made a mistake."

"What mistake?" she spat.

"Calling your partner 'brother' in the middle of a mission, for one."

The male assassin sneered. "It's not a mistake if the only one who hears it ends up dead."

In a swift, coordinated motion, they attacked. The man lunged low, aiming for Sebas's legs, while the woman sprang from a nearby table, her dagger arcing down from above.

"Tsk," Sebas clicked his tongue.

He didn't move from his spot. As their daggers were about to reach him, his hands shot out with impossible speed, catching both of their wrists in an iron grip. "Second mistake," he said calmly, stopping their assault dead. He twisted, using their own momentum against them, and slammed them both hard onto the wooden floor. 

He continued his critique as if there had been no interruption. "You are impatient when being criticized. That tells me you have a temper. And if I know this, then any experienced hunter will know this too. You may be killers, but you are also prey."

He crouched down, looking at the two half-elves groaning on the floor. "Let this be your first lesson," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. "You do not need to trust me. You need to obey me."

He then let out a sliver of his true power, not as an attack, but as pure, unadulterated intimidation. The air in the room grew heavy, a suffocating pressure that seemed to choke the very moonlight.

He then smiled, a serene, terrifying expression. "...Because those who do not... tend not to live very long."

…

Sebas made his way back to the Hao Pavilion, his mission complete. He bypassed the opulent upper floors, descending deep into the building's foundation, to the secret basement level. Here, there was no music or laughter, only the rhythmic thud of bare feet on padded mats and the sharp kiai of children's voices.

The basement had been converted into a spartan but immaculate dojo. In the center of the room, Ren and Lian, the twin assassins, were drilling a group of a dozen or so orphan children in the basics of martial arts—stances, blocks, and simple strikes.

Sebas watched from the doorway for a moment. He looked at his own hand, clenching and unclenching it. 'Let's hope Master Zero's next Gacha pull can get me a more valuable card,' he thought. 'Something to properly teach these children.'

Ren, the male twin, noticed him and immediately stopped the training, bowing low. "Master."

"How is your assessment?" Sebas asked, his voice soft but carrying easily across the room.

"They are good, Master," Ren replied. "They learn quickly. But I doubt their raw physical gifts alone will give them the edge they need to survive."

Sebas raised a hand, palm up. "Do you know this?" he asked.

Ren, Lian, and all the children watched as Sebas's hand began to glow with a soft, steady blue aura. The light was not aggressive, but it hummed with a palpable, contained power.

Ren and Lian both stammered, their professional composure completely shattered. "An... an Aura Knight?" Ren whispered in disbelief.

"No," Sebas corrected, the blue light fading as quickly as it had appeared. "This is Qi. An internal energy. And all of you," he said, his gaze sweeping over the wide, astonished eyes of the children, "have the potential to wield it. That is why you are here."

A wave of shock rippled through the dojo. Not only had they just seen a power that rivaled the legendary Aura Knights, but this strange, powerful butler was now telling them that they, a group of street orphans, could possess it too.

Then, a small, bruised boy, no older than ten, stepped forward from the line of children. There was a fresh cut on his cheek and a defiant look in his eyes. He looked directly at Sebas. "If we learn this power," the boy asked, his voice clear and unwavering, "will you let us do whatever we want with it?"

Sebas's brow raised slightly, a flicker of interest in his veiled eyes. "Yes," he replied. "As long as it does not hinder this organization."

The boy's eyes burned with a sudden, fierce conviction. He dropped to his knees, his forehead touching the mat in a deep, respectful bow. "Then I will do anything you tell me to," he declared.

Sebas walked over and placed a gentle hand on the boy's head. "What is your name?"

The kid looked up, his small face a mask of fierce, unshakeable determination.

"Kai," he said. "My name is Kai."