They arrived at the gates of Valamore, where the line of carts and travelers stretched like a sluggish serpent under the looming walls.
A knight rode forth to inspect them, his presence a story carved in steel.
Black armor laced with veins of gold caught the fading sun, and faint runes pulsed like a heartbeat across each plate. His visor gleamed, cold and absolute—more idol than man.
The cart Solved rode in came to a halt. Ahead, wagons groaned forward one by one, checked beneath the knight's gaze. Most were merchants with burlap sacks or peasants hauling crates, faces tight with fatigue.
But Solved's eyes caught on something.
In the back of one cart, half-hidden beneath tarps, a lock of silky auburn hair slipped free. Too clean. Too deliberate. A passenger being smuggled.
The knight noticed it too—his helm tilted, a hand shifting toward his blade. For a heartbeat, the air thickened.
Then the cart owner, a broad, bearded man with sweat shining on his brow, moved fast. A purse passed from his calloused hand into the knight's gauntlet, the faint chime of coin swallowed by silence.
[TRUTH SIGHT ACTIVATED]
[Smuggler: High stress, familiar with this routine]
[Guard: This is regular income, not one-time bribe]
[Cargo: Human, female, sedated but alive]
The knight paused. His runes dimmed.
"Proceed," he said at last, voice iron-flat.
The wagon rolled on. The smuggled figure vanished through the gate, leaving only the sway of brown hair and the sour taste of silence.
Solved leaned back, lips quirking.
"A city where the walls stand strong, but the people sell the cracks," he murmured.
---
As they passed beneath the colossal gates, Valamore unfolded before Solved like a living tapestry.
The streets stretched in winding patterns of cobblestone, smoothed by centuries of hooves, wheels, and boots, and they extended in winding cobblestone patterns.
Houses were leaning against each other, their windows latticed with colored glass that glinted like strewn jewels, and their timber frames dark with age.
Banners with peculiar yet majestic sigils, draped from balconies and fluttering in the breeze, were in shades of royal blue and deep crimson.
From every corner rose towers, some with slate roofs and others with shiny copper domes that reflected the sun in flashes of molten metal.
The massive citadel, a fortress of stone and shadow, towered over everything in the distance.
Its spires pierced the sky, and its buttresses had faintly glowing runes that gave the impression that the walls themselves were breathing with secret defenses.
Scents of iron from the forges, burning pitch, and spiced bread filled the air.
Children ran between carts, street criers yelled, merchants bargained, and clamor and laughter woven a rhythm as old as the city itself.
Ancient, vibrant, and unreservedly proud, Valamore was stunning, as if it had never once thought of falling to war or the passage of time.
With a tiny smile tugging at his lips, Solved exhaled. "Yeah," he muttered. " definitely not Tokyo."
"Never been to Valamore before?" Andrew asked, studying the way Solved's eyes lingered too long on every spire and street.
"No," Solved said quickly, then corrected himself with a faint shrug. "I mean… it's just been a long time."
Andrew gave a small nod, though his eyes narrowed. He didn't press, but the silence that followed carried the weight of an unspoken question.
As the chariot rolled deeper into the city, Valamore dazzled with its banners, its crowds, its golden light—until Solved froze.
"What the—" His words slipped out before he could catch them.
A figure darted across the street: no taller than a child, but clearly grown. Brown hair glinted in the sunlight, but what caught him were the ears—sharp, furred, twitching atop her head. A tail swayed behind her as naturally as a shadow.
"A halfling," Solved whispered. His pulse quickened. "With… wolf ears? That's—how is that even possible?"
Andrew's gaze snapped toward him, sharp as a drawn blade. His knuckles whitened on the reins, and Solved caught the subtle shift as Andrew's hand drifted toward his coat—checking for a weapon.
"Strange reaction," Andrew said evenly, though a muscle twitched in his jaw.
Before Solved could respond, the interface glowed before him.
[ENIGMA SYSTEM ACTIVATION]
"Hmph," Solved murmured, his eyes glittering with dark amusement. "Let's see what you got."
Then someone approached them—a man with flour-dusted hands that trembled as he grabbed their cart's edge.
"Andrew! Please, you must help me!"
"Henrik?" Andrew's suspicion melted into concern. "What are you doing in the main district? Shouldn't you be at the mill?"
"My daughter Elara—" Henrik's voice cracked on her name, his bloodshot eyes darting between them. "She vanished 3 nights ago. The constable says she ran off with some merchant, but she would never..."
[CASE ASSIGNED: The Miller's Missing Daughter]
[Client: Henrik Millwright]
[Target: Elera Millwright, Age 16]
[Status: Missing 72 hours]
[Reward: 150 EXP, 50 Gold Pieces, Local Reputation]
[Accept Mission? Y/N]
Solved's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. A predatory stillness settled over him as the pieces clicked into place. The system knew exactly when and where this would happen. Every move had been orchestrated.
He was no longer just a detective.
He was a weapon being aimed.
"Sir," Solved spoke as he leaned back like a chess player who'd just seen the winning move, "I'm going to help you. But first, I need to ask you three questions."
Henrik's eyes darted to this confident stranger in alien clothes, taking in the strange cut of his coat, the unfamiliar fabric. Hope and desperation warred across his flour-dusted features.
"If you answer these honestly," Solved continued, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone accustomed to extracting truth, "then I will help find your daughter."
Andrew watched Solved with sharp interest, his earlier suspicion sharpening into fascination. There was something different in the stranger's posture now—a predatory focus that hadn't been there moments before.
"Yes," Henrik gasped, his hands trembling as they gripped the cart's edge. "Yes, please—if you can help, anything. I'll answer anything."
His voice cracked on the last word, raw desperation bleeding through every syllable.
Andrew's eyes widened.
Solved leaned forward, his tone cutting through the silence.
"Let's start with the first." He raised a finger. "When did you last see your daughter alive?"
Henrik's throat bobbed. "Three days ago… before I got the message."
Solved's gaze sharpened. "If it was her, then they waited. Held her back until the perfect timing—the right buyer… or both."
He lifted a second finger. "The debt. What do you owe, and to whom?"
Henrik hesitated, his flour-stained hands twisting in his lap. He muttered something under his breath.
"You'll have to speak up if you want me to help," Solved pressed.
"We needed the money for—"
"I don't need the backstory," Solved snapped. "The debt. The name."
Henrik swallowed hard. "Five thousand crowns. In silver."
"To whom?"
A silence, then a name like poison: "Lord Blackwood."
For a heartbeat, Solved caught it—the faint tremor in Andrew's fist, the way his jaw locked tight. So Henrik knew.
That's why he'd come to Andrew. He must have suspected Marcus Blackthorne's own war with the man who'd destroyed his family... just as the system had orchestrated.
Solved raised his third finger. "And lastly—why Andrew? Why not the authorities?"
Henrik's eyes glistened. "Because he's capable. And I know he can help."
Truth—but not all of it. Solved could feel the weight of what remained unsaid.
The air went still. Henrik broke, shoulders shaking as he muttered about debts and failures, but Solved had already gone silent, his eyes distant—pieces clicking together like gears in a clock.
Then, softly, he spoke. "Your daughter has auburn hair."
Henrik froze. "Yes—how do you—?"
"Because I saw her. An hour ago." Solved's voice was a knife's edge, his stare unrelenting. "In the back of a cart. Probably unconscious. Smuggled past the gates by a fat, bearded man who's clearly been paying the guards for years."
The interface burned into his vision:
[ TRUTH SIGHT ACTIVATED Henrik—Shock genuine, Andrew—Surprised.]
[PATTERN RECOGNITION: MASTER LEVEL]
[Evidence correlation: 94% accuracy]
[EXP bonus for superior deduction: +25]
Solved leaned forward, his smile cold and predatory.
"The man you owe? He didn't just take her as collateral. He's selling her. And while you walk these streets, desperate and loud, he's spreading the lie that she ran away. By the time the city looks for her, she's already gone."
Andrew's knuckles whitened on the reins. Henrik made a sound like a wounded animal.
"The only question left," Solved said, "is whether we're rescuing a girl… or recovering a body."
His eyes cut to Andrew. "Thoughts?"
Andrew's voice was low, but steady. "Campoff. That's where he'll go. Closest hub for slavers."
"How long?"
"If he's fast—he'll reach before dawn."
The system's clock flickered before Solved's eyes:
[ 05:00:00 UNTIL DEADLINE ]
Solved exhaled, a grim smile curving his lips. "Then we're already late. But not too late." He turned to Andrew. "You in?"
Andrew's jaw set. "Of course."
Henrik broke then, tears streaking down his flour-stained face—not of sorrow this time, but fragile, breaking joy.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Both of you. I don't know how to—"
"Save it for when we bring her home," Solved cut him off, standing from the cart. "But you're staying here."
"What? No, I need to—"
"You need to stay alive," Andrew said firmly. "This isn't a rescue mission anymore—it's a raid on armed slavers. You'd get yourself killed and probably us with you."
Henrik's face crumpled, but Solved's expression remained cold. "Go back to your mill. Wait. We'll bring her back or we'll bring you answers. That's the deal."
Henrik nodded reluctantly, understanding he had no choice.
Solved's eyes swept the crowded streets of Valamore, calculating routes and timing. "We're not heroes yet. We're just two men with a dangerous road ahead."
As they prepared to leave the city behind, the real race against time was about to begin.