Investigation IX: Tides of Retribution

They approached the last remaining room—Edmund's study. The door creaked as they pushed it open, revealing a scene of utter disarray. Papers were scattered everywhere, a chaotic mosaic on the floor. The walls, however, held a stark contrast to the mess below. Maps adorned the space, each meticulously annotated. A particularly detailed map of Avra and its surrounding seas hung prominently behind a large mahogany desk.   Amelia took a deep breath, her eyes sweeping over the scene. "This is just a mess," she said, a mixture of shock and concern in her voice.   Samuel followed, his eyes narrowing as he took in the chaos. "Someone was definitely looking for something specific," he said, picking up a handful of papers. He glanced through them, but found nothing but mundane receipts and letters.   “It’s a grocery list. ‘Two quills, a dozen sheets of parchment, and a jar of ink. And don’t forget the pickled herrings this time, Clara.’ How mundane.”, Samuel continued, holding up a piece of paper.   Amelia chuckled, “Well, it seems my uncle had quite a fondness for pickled herring.”   As they continued their search, Samuel stumbled upon a purchase note. “This looks interesting,” he said, examining the document with wide eyes. “It mentions an antique purchase... and it was quite expensive...”   Amelia’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, after his time in the navy, he turned to trading antiques, just like us. He did it for a couple of years, building quite a reputation for himself in the trade. But after a while, he decided to settle down here and took up the position of portmaster not long after.”   Next, Samuel picked up a leather-bound ledger lying open on the floor. The cover was worn and slightly cracked. Inside, the pages were filled with meticulous entries, each line written in Edmund's precise, flowing script. "Now, this seems more interesting," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's a report on the port's status. Avra's port has doubled its incoming ships in the last year. Revenue has increased by 40% in the last two quarters, thanks to infrastructure improvements, the surge in ship registrations, increased revenue for insurance fees, and the influx of activity from new trade routes. Your uncle really did transform Avra..."   Amelia grinned proudly. “Well, greatness runs in the Cromwell blood. Avra’s success is just another example.”   Samuel smirked, teasingly. “Ah yes, the renowned Cromwell modesty.”   “Indeed, it’s a family trait,” Amelia replied with a playful glint in her eyes.   Their search led them to the grand mahogany desk, its surface a cluttered mix of parchment, quills, and inkwells. Amid the chaos, a stack of letters addressed to Edmund lay half-buried. Samuel's eyes were drawn to the topmost envelope, its seal broken and edges frayed from repeated handling. The letterhead bore the official crest of the governor of Ankar. As he unfolded the parchment, the harsh tone and damning accusations leaped from the page.   "To Cromwell," he started, his voice trembling slightly. "Your deceitful practices and underhanded deals have not gone unnoticed."   Samuel paused, glancing at Amelia with concern before continuing. "This reeks of your typical scheming, Cromwell, you filthy rat."   His voice grew more tense. "I know exactly what you're up to, Cromwell, with your relentless harassment of our trading ships and your vile, underhanded tactics to undermine us. Your actions have already wreaked enough havoc on our trade routes. Ships have vanished without a trace, cargo lost to those damn pirates who, no doubt, owe their newfound strength to you. The stench of your treachery is unmistakable, and I am sick to death of it."   Samuel's face grew pale as he read on, the words filled with venom and spite. "Let me be perfectly clear," he continued. "Your despicable transgressions will not, under any circumstances, be tolerated. The Ministerium is already sharpening its knives, poised to strike. Your rapid expansion is nothing but a fragile illusion, ready to crumble at the slightest push..."   "As for me," Samuel continued, "I will await with bated breath the day when it all comes crumbling down. The cries of your downfall will be a symphony of suffering, and I will drink in every note. And mark my words, when that day comes, I will be there, standing over you, relishing every moment of it."   Samuel's hands trembled as he set the letter down, his face drained of color. "This is serious, Amelia. The man isn’t making idle threats. He’s talking about all-out war."   Amelia's eyes widened, her face pale as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. "Samuel, this letter... it could explain so much. If Edmund was involved in some sort of trading war with Ankar, it might have led to his murder."   "But what exactly was he up to?" Samuel mused aloud. "Piracy? Smuggling? Is that what he means by 'harassment of our trading ships'?"   Amelia nodded slowly, her thoughts racing. "It makes sense. The gag used on Edmund had that message, 'Your schemes hang heavy, so do you.' It matches the tone of this letter. Could Ankar be behind it all? But... why be so covert?"   Samuel frowned, deep in thought. "Exactly. This governor doesn’t strike me as someone who'd operate in the shadows. If the rumors of piracy were true, he’d want to make a public spectacle out of Edmund's downfall, not hide behind a covert operation. And there's the matter of the thorough search. What were they so desperate to find?"   Samuel sighed, rubbing his temples. "So, we have a powerful enemy from Ankar, possible ties to piracy or smuggling, and a thorough ransacking of the house. It's all connected somehow, but the pieces aren't fitting together neatly."   Amelia paced the room, her mind churning with possibilities. "We need more information. There has to be something here that explains it all."   They continued to search through the scattered documents, as they sifted deeper through the clutter on Edmund’s desk, Amelia noticed a few crumpled letters tucked under a stack of maps. She carefully unfolded the first one, her eyes scanning the neat handwriting.   “It’s from Father Benedict,” she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. "This one expresses concern. He mentions that something seemed to be weighing on Edmund’s mind."   Samuel moved closer, peering over her shoulder as she read further. “Benedict seems genuinely worried. Let’s see what the other letters say.”   Amelia picked up the second letter, smoothing out its creases. "This one reflects on a conversation between them. Benedict feels that Edmund hadn’t been entirely forthcoming."   She continued reading, “Dear Edmund, I trust this letter finds you well. Our recent discussion left me with much to ponder, and I must admit, your insights into the intersection of authority and religion were thought-provoking indeed. Your intellect and curiosity continue to impress me, my friend. However, I cannot shake the feeling that there is more to your thoughts than you are willing to share. Your words, though eloquent, carry a hint of restraint, as if you are holding something back. I implore you, Edmund, do not hesitate to confide in me. Whatever burdens you carry, I offer my counsel and support without reservation.”   Samuel’s eyes narrowed as he listened. "Sounds like Edmund was hiding something, even from those close to him."   She started to unfold the third and final letter. Its urgent tone was palpable even before she began reading. “Benedict is pleading for Edmund to return and discuss the troubling rumors surrounding him.”   She read aloud, “‘Dear Edmund, It has been some time since our last conversation, and I must admit, your absence has not gone unnoticed. I find myself growing increasingly concerned about your well-being, especially in light of recent rumors circulating about foreign merchants and your newfound acquaintances. I've written to you on several occasions, yet I have not received a response. Your silence troubles me, my friend. If there's anything weighing on your mind or troubling your spirit, please know that you can confide in me. I am here to offer support and guidance, whatever the circumstance may be. I urge you to visit me at your earliest convenience so that we may discuss matters further. Your presence is sorely missed, and your absence weighs heavily upon my heart.’”   Amelia’s face grew serious as she finished the letter, “If Benedict was this concerned, these rumors must have been serious.”   Amelia speculated aloud, "Maybe people were talking about his supposed involvement with pirates?"   "That would make sense," Samuel agreed. "If the rumors were true, they would explain why the Governor of Ankar was so intent on stopping him. But it seems strange that Benedict was so vague in his letters. It’s almost like he was afraid of putting too much in writing."   Amelia nodded slowly. "Or maybe he didn't fully understand the extent of what Edmund was involved in. He sensed something was wrong but couldn’t grasp the full picture."   "Just like us," Samuel murmured. They both fell silent again, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place but still not forming a complete picture. Amelia's eyes scanned the room once more, hoping for any overlooked clue that might provide more insight into Edmund's activities and the threats against him.   Suddenly, a thunderous crash shattered the silence, echoing through the house like a warning bell. Their heads snapped up, eyes meeting in a silent exchange of alarm before they sprang into action.   "Stay behind me," Samuel whispered urgently, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the desk. Amelia nodded, clutching the letters tightly to her chest as they moved cautiously towards the source of the noise.   They moved down the stairs, the darkness of the house pressing in on them. As they reached the ground floor, a floorboard creaked in front of them. They froze, holding their breath. The sound was coming from the living room, moving towards them.   Out of the dimly lit room, a shadowy figure emerged, a menacing silhouette against the faint light from the streetlamps outside. With a surge of adrenaline, Samuel lunged forward, his voice a fierce growl as he commanded the intruder to halt. But the figure was already in motion, darting away towards the kitchen with the speed and agility of a hunted animal.   "Stop!" Samuel shouted, his voice reverberating through the house, but the intruder crashed through the back door, sending it swinging wildly on its hinges. Samuel and Amelia burst into the cool night air, their hearts pounding as they raced after the shadowy figure down the narrow, cobblestone streets of the Avra.   The street was lined with tall, gabled houses, their facades dark and foreboding under the moonlight. A few houses down, the cobbler’s sign creaked ominously in the wind, its hinges protesting with each gust. The dim glow of the streetlamps reflected on the slick cobblestones like scattered shards of glass.   "Stop him!" Amelia cried, her voice urgent and raw.   The figure took a sharp left turn around the corner of a clothing store, its sign swinging wildly in the wind. Samuel and Amelia rounded the corner, nearly losing their balance, and sprinted onto the main road. Lights flickered on in the houses as the residents, roused by the commotion, peered out from their windows. Shadows moved behind curtains, curious faces pressed against the glass, their eyes glinting in the dark.   Ahead, they saw the lights of the bakery. The intruder sprinted towards it, making a sharp right turn into the alleyway behind it. Samuel and Amelia followed, their feet pounding on the cobblestones. The baker stared at them, wide-eyed, as they dashed past, barely missing the crates knocked over by the fleeing figure.   The narrow alleyway loomed, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Wooden doors creaked open behind them as neighbors whispered and murmured, their voices hushed with a mix of curiosity and fear. They saw the intruder dart through the passage beneath the bridge house at the end, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the stone walls like a sinister symphony as they dashed through it, taking a sharp left turn.   The intruder was heading towards the market square, shoving people aside in his desperate flight. Samuel and Amelia saw the shocked faces of the townsfolk, their eyes wide with fear and confusion as they crossed paths.   "Out of the way!" Samuel bellowed, trying to keep sight of the intruder. They could see the giant tree at the end of the street, its branches swaying ominously in the wind, like dark, twisted fingers reaching for the sky.     As they reached the market square, the scene before them was hauntingly surreal. The stalls, once bustling with merchants and customers, now stood desolate and bare, their skeletal frames casting long, ominous shadows that stretched across the cobblestones. The wind whispered through the deserted square, weaving a mournful melody that harmonized with the flickering lights of the surrounding houses.   Samuel's heart raced as he saw the intruder dart towards the far side of the square, their silhouette just a fleeting shadow. Amelia struggled to keep up, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Go, Samuel! Don't lose him!" she urged, falling behind as she stumbled on the uneven cobblestones.   Determination etched on his face, Samuel pushed himself harder, his legs burning with the effort. The intruder reached the other side of the square and darted into a narrow street, vanishing into the labyrinthine alleys. Samuel followed, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. He reached the entrance to the street and paused, confronted by a fork in the path. Two dark, narrow alleys stretched out before him, the shadows deep and impenetrable.   Samuel hesitated for a split second, then chose the left alley, sprinting into the darkness. The passage narrowed, the walls closing in around him, his footsteps echoed ominously. He pushed forward, but the alley ended abruptly, a dead-end. Panic surged through him as he realized his mistake. Breathing heavily, Samuel turned back, his mind racing. The intruder was gone, slipped through their fingers like smoke, leaving them standing alone, back at the start where everything began, the tree in the middle of the market square, their breaths ragged and their spirits battered.