THE LAST LORD OF THE WASTELAND

THE GRAIN THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST

The grain carts moved through the eastern gate just as the sun began to bleed into the horizon, and Shen Rui followed them because he had no other choice.

He kept to the shadows, his stolen cloak wrapped tight around his shoulders, his breath shallow and controlled. The mob had given up the chase an hour ago, scattering when a patrol of city guards appeared. But Shen Rui hadn't gone back to the manor. He couldn't. Not yet. The boy's words still burned in his mind.

The granary isn't empty. It's full. The merchants have been storing their grain there.

If that was true, then someone had lied to him. And if someone had lied about the grain, then the conspiracy went deeper than he had imagined.

So he followed the carts.

They moved slowly, their wheels grinding against the broken stone road. Five carts in total, each one loaded with heavy burlap sacks. Twelve guards flanked them, armed with swords and spears. They wore no uniforms, but their movements were disciplined. Professional.

Shen Rui slipped through the eastern gate moments before it closed for the night. The guards there were lax, more interested in their dice game than the cloaked figure passing in the twilight. He kept his head down and his feet moving until the city walls faded behind him.

The carts turned north, following a narrow dirt path that wound through a patch of dead trees. Shen Rui stayed well back, using the scrub brush and boulders for cover. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears.

He almost lost them twice. The darkness was falling fast, and the path branched several times. But the guards carried torches now, their flames bobbing in the distance like hungry fireflies.

Then the trees opened up, and Shen Rui saw it.

A warehouse. Massive and low-slung, built into the side of a hill. Its wooden walls were reinforced with iron bands. Its roof was thatched but thick. And it was surrounded by more guards. Dozens of them.

Shen Rui dropped to the ground, pressing himself flat behind a fallen log. His hands were shaking. He watched the carts pull up to the warehouse doors. The drivers dismounted. The guards formed a perimeter. A man in fine robes emerged from the warehouse, his face illuminated by torchlight.

Shen Rui recognized him. He was one of the city's most prominent grain merchants. A man named Wei Zhong. He had stood in the market square last week, publicly weeping about his own losses, claiming he had nothing left to sell.

And now he was here, overseeing the unloading of thousands of jin of grain.

Shen Rui crawled closer, his belly scraping against the cold earth. He could hear voices now, carried on the night wind.

"Unload quickly," Wei Zhong snapped. "The northern buyers will be here before dawn. I want this shipment ready to move."

A guard stepped forward. "What about the patrols? If the city guards find out—"

"They won't. We've paid them enough to look the other way." Wei Zhong's laugh was cold. "Besides, everyone thinks the granary is empty. The people are too busy starving to ask questions."

Shen Rui's blood ran hot. He dug his fingers into the dirt to keep from moving.

Another voice spoke. A younger man, nervous. "But the young lord's death changes things. If the court sends investigators—"

"The young lord's death changes nothing." Wei Zhong cut him off. "The imperial permit protects us. The young lord's death will reset the prices. Once the city finishes burning, we'll be the only ones with grain. And we'll sell it at ten times the price."

Shen Rui felt something cold settle in his stomach. The imperial permit. The young lord's death. The prices resetting. This wasn't just hoarding. This was deliberate starvation, designed to profit from a city's collapse.

He had to get closer. He had to know more.

He rose into a crouch and crept along the edge of the tree line, circling toward the back of the warehouse. The guards were focused on the carts, their eyes on the road. Shen Rui found a gap in the perimeter near the western corner, where the torchlight didn't reach.

He moved. Fast and silent.

And then he stepped on a branch.

The crack was deafening.

"Who's there?" a voice shouted.

Shen Rui froze. His heart stopped.

A guard turned toward him, his spear raised. The torchlight caught the edge of Shen Rui's cloak.

"There! By the trees!"

Shen Rui ran.

He didn't think. He just moved, his legs pumping, his lungs burning. Behind him, the warehouse erupted in shouts and the thunder of boots.

"Stop him! Don't let him escape!"

An arrow whistled past his ear. Another struck the ground at his feet. Shen Rui dove into the trees, crashing through branches and brambles. The darkness swallowed him, but the guards were close behind.

He could hear them crashing through the underbrush. He could hear their shouts, their curses, the sound of swords being drawn.

Shen Rui ran until his legs gave out. He stumbled, fell, rolled down a small embankment. For a moment he lay there, gasping, the world spinning around him.

Then he heard the voices again, closer now.

"He went this way! I saw him!"

"Spread out! Find him!"

Shen Rui forced himself up. His hands were bleeding. His knee screamed with pain. But he couldn't stop. If they caught him, he was dead.

He crawled through a thicket, then found a narrow ravine. He squeezed into it, pressing his body against the cold rock. The voices passed overhead.

"I lost him."

"He can't have gone far. Keep searching."

Shen Rui didn't move. He didn't breathe. He pressed himself deeper into the ravine and prayed to a god he wasn't sure existed.

The search continued for what felt like hours. But eventually, the voices faded. The torches disappeared. The guards gave up and returned to the warehouse.

Shen Rui waited another hour before he crawled out. His body was broken, his mind reeling. But he was alive.

And he knew the truth now.

The grain existed. The merchants were hoarding it. And they had an imperial permit.

Which meant the empire itself was involved.

He limped back toward the city, using the stars to guide him. The eastern gate was closed, but he found a gap in the wall near the old drainage ditch. He squeezed through, his torn cloak catching on the rough stone.

He reached the manor just before dawn. His body was shaking, his vision blurred. He pushed open the hidden door and staggered inside.

And then he stopped.

Because the main hall was filled with light.

And standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen armed men, was an imperial officer.

Shen Rui's hand flew to the wall for support. His heart slammed against his ribs.

The officer turned. He was young, clean-shaven, with sharp eyes and a thin mouth. His uniform was immaculate, his sword polished. He looked at Shen Rui with something that might have been recognition.

"Lord Shen Rui," the officer said. "We've been waiting for you."

Shen Rui's throat closed. He was trapped. There was no way out.

But the officer didn't draw his sword. He didn't call for guards. Instead, he took a step forward and asked, "Where is Lord Shen Rui? We have received new orders."

Shen Rui stared at him.

The officer's eyes narrowed. "I said, where is the young lord? The capital has changed its mind. The execution order has been rescinded."

The room spun. Shen Rui gripped the wall harder.

"What did you say?" he managed.

The officer's mouth twitched. "You heard me. The emperor has intervened. Lord Xuan's accusations have been dismissed. You are to be reinstated as Lord of Blackstone, effective immediately."

Shen Rui couldn't speak. He couldn't think. After everything that had happened tonight, this was the last thing he had expected.

But the officer wasn't finished.

"There is one condition," he said. "The imperial court wants to know what you know about the grain shipments. And they want the names of everyone involved."

Shen Rui's blood turned to ice.

They knew about the grain.

And now they wanted him to talk.