The rider removes his wet hood but keeps one hand near his belt. His face is travel-worn, and mud darkens his boots to the knee.
I am Elias, a courier from the upper road. Brother Konrad waits beyond Bruchsal, but the Bishop’s men are searching every bridge and market lane.
Sir Eleutherius steps nearer the table, placing himself between Elias and the covered ledger. The Witness remains by the sacks, silent and watchful.
Sir Eleutherius
If you know the Inquisitor’s road, name the last checkpoint, and tell us who guards it.
The old tollhouse at Karlsgraben is held by men wearing the Bishop’s colors. I avoided them by coming through the mill villages. Two riders followed until dawn.
Master Henn’s jaw tightens. Beyond the barred door, the horse stamps again, and a distant call rises from the market quarter before fading.
The Witness
Then his road may be safer than ours, or merely less watched. We need proof before we place the ledger in his hands.