The Scheming of the Counting House

The gates groan wide, and the counting house yawns open. Inside, dim lamplight catches towers of ledgers, coin trays, and ink pots gone dry.

The Guard hauls the bound Clerk across the threshold, boots slipping in the mud. Master Pell lies where he fell, breathing but helpless, near a toppled stool.

Find the proof. Now. If Pell touched the ledgers, it is in here.

Wukong moves past a ledger stack and spots one drawer left ajar, its seal split clean. Blue wax crumbs stain the lip.

Here, by the desk. These books were handled in haste.

Wukong keeps his gaze on the ajar drawer and asks what the chest holds, and why the Clerk fears it being opened.

The Guard tightens his grip and hauls the bound Clerk closer to the desk. Master Pell stirs on the floor, but does not rise.

With a reluctant nod, the Clerk points with a trembling chin toward the upended chest beside the desk. Blue wax dust clings to its latch.

The Clerk flinches, then kneels by the desk and lifts the false plank with shaking fingers. Dust spills out, and a leather ledger case lies tucked beneath the wood.

The Guard steps in at once, one hand hovering over his belt while the other stays on the Clerk’s shoulder. Pell remains down, but his eyes crack open toward the movement.

The Clerk obeys, sliding the case across the desk instead of snatching for it, and the Guard takes it with a hard nod. Blue wax clings to the latch, fresh enough to stain his thumb.

Wukong shifts into line with Pell, quarterstaff ready, body angled to catch any lunge before it starts. Pell sees the posture and freezes under the weight of it.

The Guard opens the case just enough to show a stack of slim ledgers inside, each marked with the same counting house seal, and one page folded open to river-road payments. The child’s blue wax matches the stain on the latch.