Raven pressed her back against the corridor wall, counting her heartbeats to measure time. One, two, three... Leo's distraction must have worked; the west corridor guard had abandoned his post. The absence left a conspicuous emptiness in the otherwise meticulously staffed mansion.

She glided forward on silent feet, moving in the blind spots between lanterns. Her half-red, half-white hair tucked securely beneath a dark cap. The corridor smelled of beeswax polish and amber resin – Valerio's signature scent that permeated everything he owned.

Voices echoed from distant rooms – the festival continuing in harmony while she dismantled its foundation. Raven paused at an ornate door, running her fingers along the polished wood frame. Valerio's private office, according to the architectural plans she'd memorized. The lock was substantial – a complicated mechanism that would take precious minutes to pick.

Time she didn't have.

Raven reached into her pouch and extracted a small crystal vial of aqua fortis. The acid was the color of weak tea, innocuous-looking yet potent enough to eat through metal. She carefully applied three drops to each hinge pin, stepping back as the acrid smell of corroding metal filled the air.

The pins dissolved slowly, allowing her to ease the door from its frame without a sound. She slipped inside, replacing the door in its frame to maintain the illusion of security.

Her cat-like eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness. Moonlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting amber and blue patterns across the wooden floor. She moved toward the far wall, where an ornate cabinet stood.

Not a cabinet – a safe.

It bore no conventional lock, no dial or keyhole. Instead, the front panel displayed an inlaid wooden image of a tree – branches spreading upward, roots digging deep. The Meridian Oak. The very tree Valerio had spoken of at dinner.

Raven touched the inlaid wood, tracing the pattern with her fingertips. The story he'd told rushed back to her – how the arborists had discovered a flaw in the mighty oak, how they'd broken its branches to save it, cut away the diseased portions, reinforced the weakened trunk, and sealed the wounds.

A metaphor for his philosophy of control.

She pressed the panel marked with a small blemish – flaw discovered. It sank inward with a soft click. Next, she pressed the panel showing a broken branch – break. Another click. Then the panel depicting pruning – cut away disease. The sound of internal mechanisms shifting rewarded her.

Her fingers hovered over the next panel – reinforce. Click. And finally, the panel showing the healed tree – seal.

The safe door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges.

Inside lay a single item: a massive leather-bound book, its spine cracked from use, pages yellowed at the edges. The Master Ledger – Valerio's record of every debt, every contract, every soul bound to his service. The true foundation of his power.

Raven lifted it carefully, surprised by its weight. This wasn't just paper and ink – it was the chains that bound an entire port. She opened the cover, quickly flipping through pages filled with neat columns of numbers, names, dates. Each entry meticulously recorded, each debt precisely calculated.

Page after page of impossible sums, interest compounded daily, contracts extended for trivial infractions. The mathematical precision of Porto Veloce's enslavement laid bare in black and white.

Raven extracted a slim book from her pouch – blank pages bound in leather – and began copying key entries, focusing on families she'd identified during her reconnaissance. Leo's family debt, originally 5,000 Cori for a fishing boat, now 70,000 after his father's death. The baker's family, indebted for seven generations over a store that should have been paid off decades ago.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Raven froze, her pen poised mid-stroke.

"The Master has a special appreciation for things that don't belong."

Marco's voice, cold as the grave, filled the silent room. Raven didn't turn, didn't acknowledge him. Her mind raced through escape routes, weapons, options.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find the ledger," Marco continued. "The Master thought your blue-eyed friend would be the one to try. Shows what he knows."

Raven slowly closed her notebook, slipping it into her pouch. "How long have you known?"

"That you were thieves? From the moment you docked." Marco stepped closer, his footfalls deliberate on the wooden floor. "That you were planning something during the festival? Since yesterday. That you'd go for the ledger? Only when I saw which guard station was abandoned."

Raven turned, facing him fully. Marco stood blocking the door, a thin man with sharp features and calculating eyes. No weapon drawn, but his posture suggested he knew how to handle himself.

"I assume your distraction won't last much longer," she said, fingers inching toward the dagger concealed at her hip.

"The wine spill? Already cleaned up. Your little dock boy will be appropriately disciplined later." Marco's lips curled into something not quite a smile. "The question is what to do with you now."

"You could let me walk out."

Marco laughed, a dry sound like pages turning. "With the Master's ledger? I think not."

"Then what's your play?" Raven's eyes darted around the room, assessing distances, obstacles, possibilities. "You've made no move to call the guards. You want something."

Marco tilted his head, studying her like an interesting specimen. "Perceptive. Yes, I want something. I want the same thing you do."

"Which is?"

"To break the Master's hold on Porto Veloce."

Raven's eyes narrowed, skepticism plain on her face. "You're his right hand."

"I'm his prisoner, same as everyone else." Marco rolled up his sleeve, revealing a forearm covered in thin, precise scars – surgical marks arranged in geometric patterns. "The Master's idea of perfection isn't limited to ships and buildings."

Raven kept her expression neutral, but her stomach turned at the implication. "Why help me now?"

"Because you and your friends have created the perfect opportunity." Marco gestured toward the ledger. "The festival, the public questioning, the stolen ledger – it's enough chaos to crack the foundations. But you need to move faster. The Master knows something is wrong. He's ordered a harbor lockdown."

"No ships in or out," Raven muttered, processing this new complication.

"Exactly. Your window is closing." Marco stepped aside from the door. "Take the ledger. I'll claim you overpowered me."

Raven didn't move. "This is too convenient."

"Consider it self-preservation. The Master has been obsessed with your friend's power. Once he has what he wants from the red-haired one, he'll have no use for you or the blonde." Marco touched his scarred arm. "Or for those who failed to stop you."

Raven considered her options. Trust Marco and potentially walk into a trap, or fight him and definitely alert the guards.

"What does Valerio want with Pierre?"

"His ability to absorb others. The Master believes it's the key to perfecting his own... condition."

"The scales."

Marco nodded once. "Take the ledger and go. The east stairwell will be clear for the next three minutes while the guards change posts."

Decision made, Raven tucked the Master Ledger under her arm and moved toward the door. As she passed Marco, she paused. "If this is a trap—"

"You'll kill me," Marco finished for her. "I know. I've seen your eyes before, on others who've lost everything. You'll do whatever is necessary."

Raven slipped out into the corridor, the ledger heavy against her side. The east stairwell loomed ahead, unguarded as promised. She descended quickly, each step silent on the polished marble.

At the bottom, she paused to get her bearings. The festival sounds echoed from the plaza – music, laughter, the careful orchestration of contentment. But underneath ran a current of tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

Pierre's distraction must be working.

She needed to get to the rendezvous point – the small storage room near the kitchens where they'd planned to meet after securing the ledger. From there, they could proceed to phase two: revealing the ledger's contents during Valerio's grand speech.

Raven hugged the shadows, moving through service corridors and servants' passages. Most of the staff was occupied with the festival, leaving these areas sparsely populated. Those she did encounter paid her little attention – another servant on another errand, invisible by design.

She was halfway to the meeting point when the alarm bells began to toll – three sharp rings, a pause, three more. The harbor lockdown Marco had warned about.

Footsteps approached rapidly from a connecting corridor. Raven pressed herself into a shallow alcove, clutching the ledger to her chest. Two guards rushed past, talking urgently.

"—not just the harbor, the Master wants the whole compound secured—"

"—something about the red-haired one, dangerous—"

"—workshop, immediately—"

The guards' voices faded as they turned a corner, but their words lingered in Raven's mind. The workshop. Pierre.

Had he been captured? The plan was for him to distract Valerio publicly, not to engage directly. Something had gone wrong.

Raven changed course, heading deeper into the compound rather than toward the rendezvous point. If Pierre was in danger, the ledger would have to wait. She needed to find Alyssa, to warn her, to formulate a new plan.

She reached a junction where the service corridor met a main hallway. Peering around the corner, she saw increased guard activity – men and women in Valerio's green and gold livery moving with purpose, checking rooms, securing exits.

This was no longer about a stolen ledger. This was a full lockdown.

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