Before going to Xander with his hat in hand, Nick decided to see for himself whether the situation was really that dire.

He didn't think One-Ear would lie, not about something this big, but the broker had said it himself, that it wasn't the kind of thing local gangs could organize on their own. That someone had to be pulling the strings of the entire operation.

That meant either a noble powerful enough to rival the Duke, a minister with enough influence in the Royal Court to avoid being exposed by the Shadows, or an external organization, whether a religious group, a large merchant association, or even another nation.

Each of those options required careful handling, but they all needed to be approached in slightly different ways.

As he moved through the dark alleys, Nick materialized the [Ring of Unknowingness] back on his finger, making himself invisible to magical senses, and headed toward the strongest mana signature he could find at the docks.

It may not necessarily be a gang leader, but anyone powerful enough to be around level seventy, who isn't a mage and chooses to live out here instead of the nicer districts, must be connected to them.

The air grew thicker with the smells and sounds of the fishing industry, which was very active at this time of night, but Nick only perceived it faintly, as relayed by [Empyrean Intuition].

"I knew curses were only misunderstood. I bet many of these poor men would like to be bereft of their sense of smell." He chuckled before jumping onto a series of air platforms and perching on a sturdy brick rooftop.

From there, the whole fishing district was open to his senses, and he took some time to catalog what he was sensing.

On the water, two dozen boats, both small and large, navigated the Valis River, heading upstream toward calmer spots to cast their nets. Onboard, men of all ages worked diligently, preparing their tools and exchanging words that ranged from thinly veiled distrust to genuine warmth.

On the docks, it was mostly women. They handled what had already been caught, gutting fish, cleaning mussels, and smashing cephalopods of various kinds against rocks.

Sometimes, one of these creatures fought back, spraying jets of water and ink, but the experienced fisherwomen worked together to subdue them, grumbling at the menfolk's lack of attention that caused them to bring back relatively higher-level monsters instead of just weak ones.

Occasionally, boats filled with freshly caught cargo slipped back in, handing over their catches to the women before sailing off again.

There's a surprising amount of life in the river. Not enough to support the entire city, of course, but I bet it makes up a significant part of its diet.

If this were Earth, such intense fishing would likely have drained the river of all life within a few years. Here, on the other hand, there seemed to be enough to go around for everyone, and in fact, Nick could sense more fish and aquatic animals moving in where their brethren had been caught, as if it were a prized spot.

Is it the density of the mana that attracts them? Or are the fishermen doing something?

He was fairly sure he could figure it out without asking, but it would take some time, and the mystery would stay until he dealt with more urgent matters.

Moving on from the docks, Nick made a note of the few people he sensed with a decent amount of mana—not enough to be threatening, but still powerful enough to be influential, and potentially a last resort if he found nothing else—and shifted his focus to the inner part of the district.

There, people lived with less purpose. No one seemed to be starving or suffering unduly, probably because of the gangs themselves, who knew better than to give the Duke an excuse to crack down on them.

That only increased the confusion about the situation. Why would the relatively harmless criminals of Alluria risk everything for a big payout when it could earn them the wrath of the most powerful noble for hundreds of miles, and possibly that of the Tower?

If it had been just one group, Nick would have dismissed it as pure idiocy. Sometimes, that was a very real factor. People with a little power let it go to their heads and began to think they were invincible.

But all the gangs, working together to organize an attack to steal the auction's goods, when the risk was so high? Gangs that had survived so long by keeping their heads down?

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

No, there had to be something he was missing, and he wasn't the only one searching for answers.

Two men were simply talking over a game of cards, seeming uninterested in their conversation topic, but their emotions betrayed them as they kept probing each other, trying to make the other spill.

What initially appeared to be a romantic rendezvous in a dark alley between a married man and a young woman was actually a covert exchange of information. The girl gathered every detail the man had about the movements of a group called the "Backalley Cats," only to then grumble to herself when she realized it revealed nothing she didn't already know.

Finally, a familiar figure was nervously making his way through side streets, trying to stay away from the few people out and about at this time of night, while clutching a pouch to his side like a lifeline.

What Anthony, the son of the clothes merchant who had directed him to Mr. Bloom of the Abattoir, was doing working as a runner between gangs, Nick didn't know, but considering that he was moving toward the most powerful signature around, he guessed he'd find out soon enough.

The last time he saw Anthony, he was selling information about Nick himself to One-Ear, which was how their relationship began. Apparently, life hadn't been kind to him since then, because he seemed to be a nervous wreck, constantly scratching at a few scabs on his arms and eyeing every shadow as if it might jump up and swallow him whole.

To be fair, I can think of quite a few monsters capable of doing that, and if I remember correctly, he's a scout of some kind, so he might have noticed something before I arrived.

Whatever that was, he probably would never find out, because Anthony finally reached his destination.

It was a four-story building of the kind used by trading companies to store their merchandise and house their staff. It was a somewhat unusual sight in this part of the city, but Nick figured someone had to bring goods to the poorer residents, so maybe it wasn't so strange.

Anthony was greeted by two burly men at the door, who asked him some questions before finally letting him in.

All the while, Nick subtly moved closer, now truly curious about what was going on. He didn't know if this was connected to the future danger One-Ear had warned him about, but it was the most interesting thing happening in the city at the moment, and he'd never turn down a good spying opportunity.

Of course, the room Anthony was taken to was warded, as you'd expect from any gang with a public base, but Nick had his own ways around such things.

Whoever set the protections wasn't bad, since they had done something to block the noise from escaping, and he could even sense some anti-divination spells. Not enough to stop someone like him if he really tried, but they would definitely cause a ruckus if they broke down, so he needed to be sneakier.

I could just read their emotions. I'm skilled enough now to get the gist of any conversation, and there is no barrier against spiritual magic…

Actually, that gave him an idea. A moment later, an owl figurine appeared in his hands from his spatial ring, and with a tap of his finger, Nick awakened the spirit within.

Luminous eyes blinked open despite the inanimate nature of the wood they were made of, and Nick smiled down at it. "Sorry if I've kept you inside for too long. How about a little exercise to stretch your wings?"

A silent hoot that echoed only in the ether responded in the affirmative, and Nick crinkled his eyes. To think he would be using a [False Angel] like this… He had truly come a long way from his early days of fumbling against dryads, hadn't he?

The little owl took flight a moment later, swooping down the townhouse chimney. There was a brief moment of resistance as its physical form touched the wards, but since it was only a container for the spirit and had no magic of its own, it was allowed through.

Nick closed his eyes, even though he couldn't see much already thanks to the [Ring of Unknowingness], and concentrated on the sympathetic connection he shared with the owl.

"Do I have to wait much longer?" He heard Anthony ask nervously.

There was a pause, then a sigh. "Kid, you should be glad the boss is even coming to see you directly. You come here at this time of night and demand to see him? It's a miracle you haven't been thrown out with only your underwear on."

Anthony fell silent after that, though he still occasionally scratched his arms.

Through the owl's eyes, Nick saw that he was pale and a little sweaty, all signs of either intense nervousness or something more sinister.

It's a good thing that a spiritual bond counts as a magical sense, or the ring would have stopped it, too, and I wouldn't have been able to notice how bad he's actually doing.

Anthony was anxious, but it was a low-simmering thing, coupled with resignation and a bit of shame. No, whatever was causing his symptoms probably had to be either an illness or the side effects of a drug.

To think he'd fall so far in just three weeks. I knew he was heading down a dangerous path, but I'm honestly surprised it happened so quickly. Usually, it takes months, if not years. But then again, One-Ear did tell me he had debts from gambling, so I shouldn't be so surprised.

After another ten minutes of waiting, the door to the warded room finally opened again, and in walked the man Nick had identified as the most powerful in the district.

Through the owl's eyes, he could see that he was a heavyset man, roughly the size of a bear. His arms were thick like logs, and his chest was wider than many tree trunks.

The impression he gave was that of a towering brute, one much more used to violence than words, but Nick could see deeper and noticed a quick mind behind the facade of brutishness.

This was a dangerous man.

"Well?" he growled, and Anthony jumped up, nearly throwing the satchel on his side at him in his rush to give it over.

"This is from Changer. He said to give it to you, and only you, Tomcat."

Nick blinked in his real body, despite not being able to see anything. Was this guy really the leader of the Alley Cats? He'd imagined someone much more agile, but he supposed he could have just inherited the gang name...

"What is that damnable man doing back in the city? I thought he'd been banished years ago after getting on an Archmage's bad side," Tomcat grunted, but still took the pouch.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he opened it and saw it was a spatial pouch.

Anthony pursed his lips, clearly aware of how valuable such a thing could be, but he pressed on, "he wants to make sure you'll play your part. If even one group doesn't, there will be hell to pay."

"I know," Tomcat nodded, still focused on the prize he'd been handed. "The Duke won't let us be if we make a mess."

But Anthony shook his head. "No, it's not the Duke you should worry about. Changer isn't the same person he was when he was here last."

Then, when he opened his mouth again, a different voice echoed out, and Nick's senses immediately detected a long-range possession spell.

"It's good to see you again, Tomcat. Perhaps after seeing the token of goodwill I sent, you'll understand how serious I am about this. My new liege isn't the type to let anything slide, so be sure to keep that in mind."