The rain fell in merciless sheets over the sprawling stone architecture of the capital. Basra squinted through the downpour, wiping a steady stream of icy water from his forehead.The iron grate at the mouth of the drainage tunnel loomed ahead of them. It was half-submerged in a churning rush of grey, foam-flecked runoff water.Basra grabbed a rusted iron bar of the sluice gate. He tested its weight, his fingers slipping against the wet, slick metal."It's rusted shut," Basra said, his voice straining against the roar of the water."Move aside," Levi commanded, stepping up beside him.The larger man planted his boots firmly in the rising sludge. Levi gripped the iron bars with both hands, his muscles corded beneath his torn uniform.He braced his weight and pulled with sudden, savage strength. The rusted hinges shrieked in protest, a high-pitched metal sound cutting through the storm.Metal gave way with a sickening pop of fractured stone. The heavy gate swung inward, crashing against

The damp chill of the subterranean tunnel clung to Basra's skin like a second coat of ice. He wiped a mixture of mud and greasy water from his eyes, gasping for breath.Above them, a heavy iron grate blocked the vertical shaft leading directly upward. Shafts of dim grey daylight filtered down through the damp bars.Levi stood up despite his own battered frame, his boots splashing in the shallow runoff. He reached up, grasping the underside of the heavy iron grate with both hands."Up," Levi muttered, his jaw clenched tight.With a powerful heave, Levi shoved the iron grate upward on rusted hinges. It scraped against stone before swinging wide into the light above.Basra scrambled after him, pushing his aching arms against the slick masonry. They hoisted themselves out of the dark hole and into a completely different world.They had emerged directly inside the sprawling Ministry of Records gardens. Towering boxwood hedges shielded them from the main pathways of the estate.Just beyond

The junior steward stood frozen in the middle of the gravel pathway. His knuckles were bone-white around the handle of the heavy meat cleaver.The authority in Levi’s voice had done its work. The boy’s eyes darted nervously between Levi’s cold stare and Basra’s bruised face."I—I was told to clear the gardens," the steward stammered, his voice pitching high with uncertainty. "Deliveries are supposed to come through the lower gate.""And we are inspecting the lower gate," Levi replied without missing a beat. His tone brooked no argument whatsoever.The soldier stepped forward another inch, invading the boy's space deliberately. "Go back inside and tell the head cook the water mains are checked. Move.""Right. Yes, sir," the steward muttered, his resolve completely shattered by the bluff.The young boy turned on his heel and scrambled back toward the kitchens. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him with a dull thud.Basra let out a long, shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holdi

The grand oak door of the Bureau of Taxes loomed ahead. Its polished brass handles caught the harsh light of the corridor lanterns.Basra adjusted the collar of his stolen servant tunic. The crisp white fabric felt too clean for a man steeped in the grime of the lower wards.Beside him, Levi stood like a statue carved from dark stone. His hand rested casually, yet defensively, near the hilt of a hidden blade."Stay sharp," Levi muttered under his breath. "The shift change happens in ten minutes."Basra gave a short nod, his heart hammering against his ribs. He inserted the heavy iron key into the ornate lock of the tax archive.The mechanism clicked with a dull, echoing metallic sound. The heavy door swung inward on well-oiled hinges, revealing a cavernous room of shadows.Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom. Thick ledgers were stacked in neat, endless columns across countless wooden desks.Dust motes danced lazily in the slivers of pale morning light. The

The rhythmic thud of heavy boots echoed down the stone corridor outside. The sound grew steadily louder, vibrating through the thick wooden floorboards.Basra froze mid-motion, his hand hovering over an open ledger. His breath caught in his throat like dry ash.Levi’s head snapped toward the door. The soldier’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he adjusted his stance."Someone's coming," Levi hissed quietly. "Auditor's round, probably."The heavy iron ring of keys jingled outside the oak door. The approaching footsteps stopped directly on the other side of the threshold.Panic flared in Basra’s chest, sharp and hot. There was nowhere to run in the wide-open expanse of the archive room.The towering bookshelves offered zero cover from someone walking down the center aisle. A sudden, cold sweat broke out across the back of Basra's neck."Get down," Levi commanded, dropping into a low crouch. He swept his arm out to grab Basra by the shoulder.Levi yanked Basra downward toward the fl