Harper wasted no time in delivering her news. Her unkempt appearance was helpful in portraying the urgency of her task. Ignoring the stares of the city hall employees, Harper strolled into the antechamber adjacent to the Governor’s office.

  His assistant was frantically scanning documents, looking for something. She looked up at Harper’s entrance.

  “Lady Waspen! Are you alright? What happened to you? Did you get caught up in the attacks?”

  Harper ignored the deluge of questions. “I need to speak to the Governor as soon as possible. Can I go in?”

  The assistant shook her head. “The Governor isn’t here. He’s out personally overseeing to the aftermath of the attack. Mister Woodster is his second in command for situations like this. You can find him in the courier’s room.”

  Harper was already out the door. She was dying to find out what had happened while she was away, but delivering her news took precedence. She strode into the courier room; the place was as busy as she’d ever seen it.

  Two couriers took only a few seconds to stare at her disheveled appearance before snapping out of it and leaving the room. Some others looked toward her before going back to what they were doing. Vermon was in the center of the room, giving orders and checking documents.

  As soon as he noticed her, he handed off some things to a fellow courier and rushed over. “Harper! What happened? Were you at the attacks? No, wait, you’re supposed to be in Roglar by now.”

  She nodded emphatically. “That’s where I was going. I got ambushed on my way to Bornel two nights ago. I barely escaped and only made my way back only a short while ago.”

  Vermon rubbed his head. “They’re attacking couriers now too? Domains!” He cursed. He paused, “Wait, you said two nights ago?” At Haper’s nod he frowned. “The attacks only happened last night. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Harper laid out the events since she had arrived at the plantation. She told him of her observations and suspicions about the plantation owner, neglecting to mention that he was her uncle. She didn’t know if their relation was why she was attacked anymore. The timing with the attacks of the Unshackled were too coincidental for her liking.

  While it wasn’t the same night, notice of her disappearance would have not come for until after the attacks. It may have been the ideal time for an opportunistic ambush. The theory even gave her a motive for the attackers. She was an employee of the Governor, whom they may consider an enemy, being granted power in the colony directly from the crown.

  If they knew she was a noble, thanks to Gavin’s challenge, that may have given them further motive. Plus, they may have wanted the correspondence she was carrying. Harper wasn’t delivering anything of particular importance, at least, as far as she knew, but they didn’t know that. Information between two colonies could be important for their cause.

  Vermon furrowed his brow in anger, speaking to himself more than her. “Someone thinks they can attack one of my couriers? This will not stand. The Governor would agree, this is more than enough cause.”

  Looking around, he called out a few names. “Attention, something came up that takes equal priority.” He began listing off orders. Harper quickly realized that he was preparing a reactionary force. Couriers were sent off for horses, day supplies, a few guard squadrons, and messages elsewhere.

  He turned back to her. “I hate to ask this, but would you be willingly to come along? It would make things easier if you were there to identify your ambushers at the plantation, and barring success there, find the place that they ambushed you.”

  Harper thought over his request. There were a host of reasons to refuse. She was exhausted, agreeing would be saying goodbye to decent sleep for likely the rest of the day. The risk of being recognized by her uncle was high as well. It would be difficult to avoid him during a raid on his property.

  It would be dangerous. A mitigated danger, considering she’d be with a couple dozen of the Governor’s men and at least one Magnate, but a danger nonetheless. She had been at her breaking point only half a day ago. Did she really want to throw herself into another tense situation?

  Harper thought of how she’d been treated at the plantation, held in place by her duties and forced to wait while she was being set up. She thought of the ambush, of being chased for hours without respite. She thought of her loyal horse, left for dead on the cold ground to buy herself time.

  She wasn’t just tired and grieving. She was angry. Harper wanted revenge. On the more logical side, she wanted to be there to ensure she wouldn’t be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her time on Vanax. If her uncle wasn’t already aware of her presence and found out because of this, then so be it.

  Harper firmed her stance. “I’ll come, but I’ll need a horse.”

  While everyone else prepared for the ride and went over a raiding strategy, Harper dropped off Briar, then she fell into one of the courier cots back at city hall and took a nap. It wasn’t a very long one, only being just over half an hour, but she needed it nonetheless. She was woken up and shown to a horse that was prepared for her. If all went according to plan, Harper would have minimal contribution to the raid, only being there to identify her attackers.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The ride went by quickly. Harper considered attempting to continue her nap in the saddle, but their fast pace dissuaded her. Despite taking a large portion of the day, it seemed to go by quickly. Her apprehension and swirling thoughts kept her occupied. It was fortunate that she rode in the middle of the group, she wasn’t paying the slightest attention to their surroundings.

  She was paying enough attention to know when they were close, and called out that the turn off for the plantation was just up ahead. They sped the horses up, intending to catch them as unprepared as possible.

  They rode down the path, entering the clearing in which the property resided. In contrast to last time, the plantation was empty. Neither slave nor overseer graced the field. As they stopped at the manor, Vermon wasted no time, sending out others to check the other buildings. Harper stayed next to him and a few others, waiting.

  Those that returned a few minutes later with nothing to report were sent back out again to surround the premise and ensure nobody made a run for it. A few minutes later, two of the guard that had been brought along escorted over a man.

  Well, less escorted, and more dragged. This wasn’t due to any resistance on his part, but rather lack of strength to make the walk on his own.

  “That’s one of them!” Harper exclaimed. “That’s the one who’s Alius I killed. The bloodhound.”

  At hearing her voice, the man woodenly looked up. He took a few seconds to process before drawing his brows together. “It’s you! The bitch who killed my Alius. You’re gonna pay for that!”

  Despite the threats, he was in no position to make good on them. Harper was surprised he opened his mouth at all, considering his predicament. “Arrest him,” Vermon intoned.

  The guards followed his order, putting him in manacles. They chained him to a post, not that there was much worry that the man would run for it in his sorry state. If he had not been chasing Harper through the forest only two days prior, she would have emphasized with him. As it was, she relished her victory. Had she not taken him out, she would be dead or captured now.

  Without any other urgent reports, Vermon dismounted. “Let’s check inside. I have a feeling there’s going to be a whole lot of nothing though.”

  Although he didn’t call for her, she followed. She wanted to look inside. The manor was hastily cleared of most belongings. Only furniture and other items not quickly moved remained. Harper followed alongside the rest of them, wary of traps.

  They cleared each room methodically, finding nothing of note. That was until they walked into one of the supply rooms. It was a place that was probably rarely entered by the occupants of the manor, excepting the servants.

  It turned out that they could still be found here. Several labuntan bodies sat on the floor. Bile rose to her throat when she noticed the servant girl she had interacted with not three days ago. She lay stomach down in a dried pool of her own blood.

  Harper looked away. She was far more squeamish before she had begun hunting, and was long past being nauseous at the sight of ruined flesh, but this was too much for her. The others investigated, finding only that they were killed by blade. They moved on.

  Most of the rest of the house was empty. Their final find was in what must have been her uncle’s office. A man was strung up, dead. He hung from a surprisingly sturdy chandelier. It was the third and final time Harper found him. Pelman, the grizzled man who she saw first here in the manor and later chasing her through the woods.

  It was a shock at first, but upon thinking about it, was an unsurprising development. Nobody, least of all herself, would have guessed that she would escape the ambush. It had been well prepared. If not for her luck and grit, it would have succeeded.

  The wind had blown in just the right direction, carrying their scent downwind and alerting her horse. Harper was willing to bet that a string or something similar waited ahead that would have tripped her.

  Then, instead of all firing at once, someone had taken a premature fist shot, startling her and forcing the subsequent shots of all the others.

  Then she managed to disable their contingency and catch sight of the man during the chase. That all wouldn’t have mattered had she not slipped through their grasp, but she did.

  Ultimately, their mistakes and poor fortune led to her getting away and putting a target on her uncle’s back. It was unsurprising that the man faced such brutal punishment from someone that treated his slaves so poorly. If anything, she was surprised there wasn’t more underlings strung up along with him.

  The desk and drawers had been cleared out, anything that could give clue to her uncle’s connection to the Unshackled or their whereabouts was long gone. They left, stopping only to wrap and take the bodies out. Harper carried the body of the servant girl; she felt that she owed her that much at least.

  When they got out, they received the reports of the other buildings. More massacred slaves were in their housing. Not enough to account for the plantation’s entire workforce, but a large amount of it. It seemed that wherever they left to, those who were killed were deemed more a burden then a boon.

  Harper’s hate burned hotter. They had no good reason to kill the rest. She seriously doubted that they knew anything that would compromise the owner. They hadn’t even bothered to silence the man who was left behind. It was unlikely that they would get anything useful out of him.

  They checked for tracks, but found nothing that helped. Vermon’s trackers were unable to find anything. Eliminating their trail to such a degree would have been extremely difficult. Especially with as large of a group as they likely had. Perhaps one of the reasons that so many of the labuntans had been killed.

  Still, there should have been something. The only conclusion was that someone, perhaps Alric Henton himself, had used an Apex Domain to cover their tracks. The best ones for that would be the Telluric or Aerial Domains, but the Biotic Domain may work in a pinch.

  Finding nothing, they decided to continue to where Harper had been ambushed. Chances of finding something were nil, but they were loath to head back near empty handed. Several hours later, Harper called to a stop.

  “This is it, I think.” She looked around unsure. Most places along the trail looked like any other. It didn’t help that her first time through was in the dark. She thought this was the area because it wasn’t far off from a distinctive rock formation she had passed.

  She had ridden for a while past it, but had been forced to run back quite a ways before turning off trail. They continued forward more slowly, a pair of rangers that had been brought on for their skill in tracking watched either side. Eventually one of them called out. Tracks of a group of horses going off trail led into the forest.

  They followed, eventually coming to a corpse. Nimbus lay on the ground, saddlebags removed. She dismounted from her borrowed steed, kneeling next to her. “I’m sorry,” Harper murmured.

  They found nothing else. The trail had gone cold.