"Good," he murmured under his breath. "Now it's time I meet with the local authorities—the ones supposedly in charge of this district."
He turned down a side street, boots tapping steadily against the cobbled path. But as he walked, something began to gnaw at the edge of his thoughts.
His brows drew together.
Wait... who exactly is in charge of this district?
He slowed.
Back on Earth, the answer would have been simple—walk into a police precinct, present your case, meet with the commanding officer, and discuss jurisdiction. There were formal structures. Chains of command. Clear expectations, even if they were flawed.
But this wasn't Earth.
This was Keldoria—a kingdom still steeped in the tangled webs of noble privileges, merchant guild autonomy, and centuries-old customs that blurred the lines between justice, power, and politics.
And more importantly, this was Iron Hearth, a city that had outgrown its own systems faster than it realized.
