I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Nine days after the training session on the outer court, Arthur and Felix arrived at one of the academy’s smaller archive rooms.

Emily was already waiting for them inside. Standing beside her at the central viewing table was an older, impeccably dressed man holding a locked leather document case and a narrow wooden box.

”Lady Emily,” Halden greeted her, his tone respectful but comfortably familiar.

”Emily is sufficient while we are at the academy, Halden,” she replied immediately.

Halden gave her a patient, steady look that he had probably used for the last fifteen years. ”It was never sufficient at home.”

Arthur joined them at the table without commenting on the title. Emily gave him a brief, appreciative glance before turning back to Halden.

”Do you have the dates we requested?” Felix asked, setting his own satchel on the table.

Halden didn’t waste time. He unlocked the heavy document case and withdrew a thick, leather-bound toll book. He opened it carefully, the stiff pages crackling slightly in the quiet room.

The estate records were immaculately kept. The columns were separated by crisp lines of red ink, listing the wagon owner, the driver, the declared cargo, the toll paid, and the direction of travel.

Felix had already copied the date from the recovered Grayroot road permit. He ran his finger down the page, navigating the dense script until he found the exact entry.

”Here,” Felix said.

They gathered around the open book. The entry matched the recovered Grayroot permit. The wagon had crossed the Thorne road shortly after the lower works were sealed, carrying cargo declared as stored quarry stone. The same reseller connected to Tolan’s contaminated shipment had paid the toll, and the wagon had continued toward Lornfell.

As expected, the entry only confirmed that the wagon had used the Thorne road.

Felix did not close the book.

He kept his finger pressed against the page and began scanning the entries from the surrounding days, checking the traffic that had moved before and after the known date.

He stopped at an entry dated eleven days after the known shipment.

Garran Holt’s name appeared again.

”The driver on our Grayroot permit was a man named Garran Holt,” Felix noted, tapping the earlier entry. He moved his finger down the page to the new line. ”His name appears here again.”

Arthur leaned over the table. The second wagon had also been declared as carrying stored Grayroot stone, with the same reseller paying the toll.

”Does that second wagon appear in the quarry records?” Arthur asked.

He compared the date against the quarry’s outgoing freight list.

”It does not,” Felix said quietly. ”According to Grayroot, this shipment never existed.”

Halden reached out and carefully turned several more pages of the toll book, advancing the dates. His eyes scanned the columns with practiced speed. He stopped near the bottom of a page dated three weeks later.

Garran Holt’s name appeared a third time.

The third entry carried the same declaration: stored Grayroot stone, the same road, and payment from the same reseller.

Felix checked the quarry copies again. ”No matching Grayroot record.”

Felix laid the two sets of records beside each other on the table. He placed the Grayroot copies beside the toll book.

”This was not one unrecorded shipment,” he said. ”There were at least two more.”

”Do the toll books show where Garran worked?” Emily asked.

Felix traced the ownership column across the three entries. ”The wagon owner changes. The first belonged to the reseller. The second was registered to a smaller transport company. The third only carries a private-hire mark.”

”But the toll payments all came from the same reseller account,” Arthur noted.

Felix nodded. ”Which means the different wagon owners do not matter. One buyer was organizing all three trips.”

Arthur looked away from the ledgers. The paperwork was useful, but they needed someone who had actually seen the cargo.

”Is Garran Holt still alive?” Arthur asked.

Halden opened the narrow wooden box.

”I checked the older road-office correspondence before leaving the estate,” Halden said, opening the narrow wooden box.

He removed a small address card and placed it on the table.

”Holt was never employed by the estate, but he disputed a toll charge after leaving the freight business. He sent complaints to the road office for several months, so they kept his forwarding address.”

Felix adjusted his glasses. ”Is it still current?”

”I cannot promise that,” Halden said. ”The address is several years old, but it was in Lornfell’s southern market district.”

Before Halden could close the book, Arthur looked down at the heavy ledger one last time.

The first two entries for Garran Holt were perfectly normal, filling only the required columns. But beside the third entry, the toll clerk had squeezed a short, cramped note into the margin.

Arthur pointed to the ink. ”What does this say?”

Halden leaned in and adjusted his spectacles. ”’Rear covering damaged. Driver refused inspection. Cargo permitted through under sealed merchant declaration.’”

Emily frowned, her irritation flaring immediately. ”They let him through without checking? The wagon should have been held until someone examined the cargo.”

”At the time, a sealed merchant declaration was enough for ordinary stone or timber,” Halden said. ”The clerk followed the rules and kept the wagons moving.”

Halden’s expression tightened as he reread the note. ”The clerk followed the rule,” he said, ”but I doubt anyone at the estate would defend that rule now after reading these reports.”

”I have what I need,” Felix said. He copied the three entries into his ledger, including the dates and the reseller’s payment mark.

Halden closed the toll book, locked its clasps, and handed the address card to Arthur.

”Fourteen Tanner’s Lane, southern market.”

Arthur knew the street. It was less than twenty minutes from the academy gates.

The address was several years old, but Garran Holt was the first person connected to all three missing shipments.

Now they only had to find out whether he still answered the door.