The pilot program for Legion efficiency – dubbed 'Project Serrated Edge' by Kenji in a moment of grim irony – was officially underway. Kenji, after careful consideration and analysis of fragmented performance data (mostly casualty reports and rumors filtered through Lyra), had selected the Seventh Spine Legion. They weren't Gorgath's elite, nor were they hopelessly inept, but their record showed consistent logistical 'challenges' and higher-than-average equipment failure rates, making them a prime candidate for demonstrating improvement. General Gorgath had grudgingly assigned a dour, scarred Orc named Commander Borgh to liaise, his cooperation clearly mandated rather than offered.

Kenji’s days became a whirlwind of activity even more intense than before. He was drafting standardized equipment lists (balancing cost, reliability, and minimal 'demonic aesthetic' requirements), mapping optimized supply routes on large sheets of cured hide, developing simple tracking methods using enchanted tags (a minor concession wrested from Zaltar’s budget), and trying to explain the concept of 'units-per-hour' to bewildered imp foremen at the soul-forge. Simultaneously, he and Lyra launched the 'Resource Misappropriation Reporting' initiative, setting up magically shielded drop-boxes near the Seventh Spine's barracks, monitored discreetly by Imp Squad 7.

It was amidst this organized chaos, while attempting to reconcile the initial supply requisitions for Project Serrated Edge with the Seventh Spine's actual reported inventory levels, that Kenji stumbled upon a discrepancy that didn't smell like bureaucratic incompetence or simple waste. It smelled like deliberate fraud.

"Lyra," Kenji called out, frowning at two conflicting scrolls. One was the official Seventh Spine inventory report, signed off by Commander Borgh. The other was a disbursement log from the Central Armory Annex, detailing shipments sent to the Seventh Spine just one cycle prior. "According to the Armory log, five hundred new Cursed Flails were dispatched to the Seventh Spine. But Borgh's inventory report only lists three hundred and fifty new flails received and distributed. Where did one hundred and fifty flails go?"

Lyra examined the scrolls. "Discrepancies between dispatched and received goods are… common," she admitted. "Shipments can be ambushed, diverted by weather or unstable portal incidents, or simply 'misplaced' during transit or storage."

"Misplaced?" Kenji echoed skeptically. "One hundred and fifty heavy infantry weapons? That's not misplacing; that's either catastrophic incompetence or…"

"Or deliberate misappropriation," Lyra finished, her voice quiet. "Theft."

Kenji nodded grimly. It fit with the 'ghost soldier' patterns he'd suspected earlier. Resources allocated but never reaching their intended recipients. "Who signed for the shipment at the receiving end? Who manages the Seventh Spine's primary supply depot?"

Lyra consulted another record, a personnel roster cross-referenced with logistical assignments. "The primary depot for the Seventh Spine is Depot Gamma-Seven. The Quartermaster in charge is… Skabb."

The name meant nothing to Kenji, but Lyra's slight hesitation piqued his interest. "Skabb? Is he significant?"

"Quartermaster Skabb is a Goblin," Lyra elaborated, "but an unusually successful one. He has held his position overseeing Depot Gamma-Seven for nearly ten cycles, surviving multiple command changes within the Legion. He is known for being… resourceful. And well-connected within the lower ranks and the camp black markets. He runs a tight operation, by Goblin standards."

"Resourceful and well-connected," Kenji muttered. "Sounds like someone perfectly positioned to skim resources off the top." A Goblin quartermaster surviving that long suggested cunning, ruthlessness, and probably protection from someone higher up. "One hundred and fifty flails is a significant amount. Too much for personal use. He must be selling them."

"There is always a market for decent weaponry," Lyra confirmed. "Mercenary bands, independent raiders, even rival Legion units sometimes procure equipment through… unofficial channels."

"So, Skabb potentially runs a side business selling stolen Legion equipment," Kenji summarized. "This isn't just waste; it's active theft undermining the entire system. It directly impacts Project Serrated Edge – we can't standardize equipment if a chunk of it vanishes before reaching the troops." He tapped the scroll. "We need proof. Solid evidence linking Skabb to the missing flails, and ideally, proof of where they went."

Gathering that evidence, however, was fraught with peril. Directly accusing a Quartermaster, especially one likely protected, based on conflicting scrolls was useless. Skabb would deny everything, records would conveniently disappear, and Kenji would look like an overzealous fool meddling where he wasn't wanted. He needed discreet investigation.

"This requires navigating barracks politics," Kenji mused. "We need eyes and ears inside Depot Gamma-Seven and possibly the black market."

"Barracks politics are treacherous, Overseer," Lyra cautioned. "Loyalties are complex and often bought. Skabb will have informants. Strangers asking questions will be noted."

"What about our new 'Resource Misappropriation Reporting' system?" Kenji asked. "Have any reports come in from the Seventh Spine barracks yet?"

Lyra gestured towards a small, locked chest managed by Imp Squad 7. "Several missives have been deposited. Most are minor squabbles – complaints about stolen boots, unfair latrine duty assignments, the quality of the fungal stew. Nothing directly implicating Quartermaster Skabb or missing weapon shipments."

"Keep monitoring it," Kenji instructed. "Someone within the Seventh Spine must resent Skabb or know about his operation. Maybe someone passed over for promotion, someone he cheated in a deal." He paused, considering their limited resources. "Imp Squad 7… they're small, relatively unnoticed. Could they conduct basic surveillance near Depot Gamma-Seven? Observe who comes and goes? Note any unusual cargo movements, especially at odd hours?"

Lyra considered it. "Imps are naturally stealthy, if not particularly brave or intelligent. Squad 7 has shown rudimentary competence in following instructions since their reassignment. Basic observation might be within their capabilities, provided the risk is managed. Skabb's enforcers are likely Orcs or Hobgoblins who wouldn't hesitate to squash an overly curious imp."

"Low profile," Kenji stressed. "Observe, don't engage. Report anything unusual back to you immediately."

Lyra nodded and dispatched instructions to the eager-to-please (and slightly-less-likely-to-be-kicked-now) Imp Squad 7.

While the imps began their discreet watch, Kenji and Lyra tackled the problem from another angle – the paper trail, or its demonic equivalent. They meticulously reviewed every scrap of documentation related to Depot Gamma-Seven they could find in the central archives or compel from Commander Borgh (who provided it with maximum delay and ill grace). They looked for patterns: consistent discrepancies between dispatched and received goods, unusually high 'spoilage' or 'damage' rates reported by Skabb, records of shipments signed for by personnel who didn't seem to exist according to other rosters.

It was like assembling a jigsaw puzzle where half the pieces were missing, a quarter were scorched, and the rest were written in conflicting dialects of pure obfuscation. But slowly, painstakingly, inconsistencies emerged. Not just the missing flails, but smaller amounts of blessed (or cursed) crossbow bolts, casks of potent battle stimulants, even high-quality chainmail seemingly vanishing between the central armory and Skabb's depot. The cumulative value was substantial.

Their investigation didn't go unnoticed. Twice, Kenji found his rudimentary charcoal drawings subtly disturbed, as if someone had been searching his workspace. Lyra reported encountering unfamiliar, thuggish-looking Orcs loitering near the archive entrance, asking pointed questions about the 'new Overseer' to passing imps. Skabb clearly had feelers out, alerted by Kenji's initial inquiries or perhaps by Commander Borgh himself.

One evening, as Kenji and Lyra were comparing Skabb's reported spoilage rates for soul-infused rations (suspiciously high) with those from other depots, one of Imp Squad 7’s members – a particularly small imp named Firk – scurried in, trembling visibly.

"Overseer! Mistress Lyra!" Firk squeaked, wringing his clawed hands. "We saw! We saw!"

"Calm yourself, Firk," Lyra said soothingly. "What did you see?"

"Big cart! Late rotation!" Firk stammered. "Came from back of Depot Gamma-Seven. Not Legion cart! Covered heavy! Went towards… towards Black Market Ravine!"

Kenji and Lyra exchanged glances. The Black Market Ravine was a notorious hub of illicit trade just outside the main Citadel perimeter, a place where stolen goods, forbidden magic components, and dubious mercenary contracts changed hands. A cart leaving Skabb's depot under cover of darkness, heading for the Ravine? It was highly suspicious.

"Did you see what was in the cart, Firk?" Kenji asked urgently.

Firk shook his head violently. "Covered! Guards were big Orcs, not Skabb's usual Goblins. Looked mean! Firk hide good!"

"You did well, Firk," Lyra praised him, producing a small, slightly shriveled fungus – a treat for imps. Firk snatched it gratefully. "Return to your post, but remain unseen. Report any further movements."

The imp nodded and scurried away.

"A covered cart, heading for the black market…" Kenji mused. "Could be anything. But the timing, the secrecy… it feels like our missing flails, or other stolen goods."

"Intercepting the cart is too risky," Lyra cautioned. "Skabb's likely employing professional smugglers or mercenaries for transport, people who won't hesitate to eliminate witnesses."

"No, we can't intercept it directly," Kenji agreed. "But if we knew who he was selling to in the Black Market Ravine… maybe we could apply pressure there? Or find a buyer willing to talk, perhaps in exchange for leniency or a cut?"

The Black Market Ravine was dangerous territory, even for someone with Lyra's skills and Kenji's new title. But Skabb's operation was a direct threat to Project Serrated Edge and a symbol of the corruption Kenji needed to root out.

Just then, another imp from Squad 7 arrived, this one carrying a small, soiled piece of parchment retrieved from one of the Resource Misappropriation drop-boxes near the Seventh Spine barracks. The script was crude, barely literate, written in what looked like mud or worse.

Lyra carefully unrolled it, her nose wrinkling slightly. She deciphered the message aloud: "Skabb cheats. Short rations again. Took my new boots. Said I 'lost' them. He sells good stuff out back rotation-end. Trades with Grok the Shiv, near West Gate market stalls. Grok mean. Watch out." It was unsigned.

Kenji felt a jolt of excitement. A name. Grok the Shiv. Likely a black market contact, possibly the recipient of the mysterious cart. And the confirmation – Skabb selling stolen goods, including basics like boots, directly impacting minion welfare. This anonymous tip, born from desperation and resentment, could be the key.

"Grok the Shiv," Kenji repeated. "Can we find out more about him, Lyra? Discreetly?"

"The black market has its own information network," Lyra acknowledged. "Dangerous, but accessible if one knows who to ask and what currency they accept. I can make inquiries."

"Be careful," Kenji warned. "Skabb might have informants in the market too."

"Caution is my default state, Overseer," Lyra replied dryly.

While Lyra pursued leads on Grok the Shiv, Kenji focused on tightening the documentary noose around Skabb. He compared the anonymous tipster's claim about stolen boots with Skabb’s own inventory reports for standard legionary footwear. Sure enough, Depot Gamma-Seven reported unusually high rates of 'damaged' or 'unserviceable' boots compared to other depots. The pieces were fitting together.

He now had: evidence of large discrepancies between shipped and received goods (the flails), suspiciously high spoilage/damage reports from Skabb's depot (rations, boots), eyewitness testimony (from Firk) of clandestine shipments towards the black market, and an anonymous tip naming a specific black market contact (Grok the Shiv).

It wasn't enough for a direct accusation that would stick, especially against someone potentially protected. But it was enough to justify… targeted action. Perhaps not against Skabb directly, not yet. But against his operation.

"Lyra," Kenji said, when she returned later that cycle, having confirmed Grok the Shiv was indeed a known fence for stolen military gear operating near the West Gate market. "I think we have enough to act. Not a direct confrontation with Skabb, but… an audit. A surprise, intensive audit of Depot Gamma-Seven's inventory. Citing discrepancies found during the Project Serrated Edge implementation."

He knew it was risky. Skabb would obstruct. Records would vanish. But a surprise audit, conducted under Kenji's official Treasury authority, would put intense pressure on Skabb, disrupt his operation, force him to hide his tracks more carefully, and maybe, just maybe, flush out his protectors or force him into making a mistake.

It was time to move beyond analyzing scrolls and start rattling cages. The Quartermaster’s comfortable setup was about to get extremely uncomfortable. The hunt for the ghosts in the garrison was zeroing in on its first tangible target.