"Do you think it'll work?" I whispered to Rosa, trying not to look like I was whispering to Rosa. "Uh, flap your fan twice to say yes."

Rosa flapped her fan twice.

"Of course you would. You don't have to do anything, you just need to watch. I have to do all the hard work."

Her fan began flapping really quickly in an erratic rhythm.

I frowned for a split second before I smoothed my face into a neutral, respective expression. (The bodyguards could be watching us, after all.) I smiled pleasantly. "Are you trying to say that since I volunteered to come, I have no right to say anything?"

Flap flap.

I sighed like I was just only exhaling slowly. "Can't say you're wrong."

Well, thanks to my voluntary hard work, we were now waiting on the side as Lemon Quiche spoke with, presumably, the baron that we'd seen earlier. Hopefully she was arguing for our case, not against it, but the talk was going long.

Honestly, now that we were here, I was beyond nervous, even more than when I'd been lying directly in Lemon Quiche's face. I mean, who knew what they were talking about now? What if she was plotting our demise, tattling on us to the baron because she'd seen through our lie? What if she had been the better liar, and I'd been played off like I'd hoped to play her off?

I clenched and unclenched my fist behind my back in building anxiety, then focused on breathing deeply and slowly. This was not the time to be nervous. I needed to calm myself, before I got too tense to return from.

Rosa's fan flapped quickly in succession, and my attention snapped back to Lemon Quiche and the Baron. Lemon Quiche was bowing to Baron now, stepping back, and she turned to face us.

Forcing myself to relax, I gave her an inquisitive smile from the distance, and Lemon Quiche gave us one short nod, then moved towards us.

"The Baron has allowed our current cargo and system to be briefly introduced to you and your superior," she said, giving a small bow of acknowledgement to Rosa at the word 'superior.' "We hope you weren't thinking of being thoroughly toured-- we cannot do so, as you may expect, on such short notice, for the sake of security and time."

I glanced at Rosa, and when she flapped her fan twice, I turned back to Lemon Quiche and nodded. "That's fine. My superior won't need too much as well."

And with that, we were done with step three: get a tour.

This was going fine, right? They'd allowed us a tour. We'd finally get to know what this entire trade was about. Our goal was being achieved. In other words, things couldn't be better... but maybe it was going too well? Shouldn't this be, I don't know, a lot harder to do? Or were people really just that greedy for financial support that they were overlooking a lot of risks?

It was a bit too late to back out now, though, as nervous as I was, and we followed after Lemon Quiche as she launched into her explanation.

"To briefly explain our route of trade, our cargo comes from two different routes: over the boundary from Grevinly, and, as you will see today, from the shores of Tristen."

Tristen was an island country off the coast of Durova. From what I knew, we were pretty close to Tristen in terms of distance, but the seas between the two were a bit rough that people didn't really travel to and from each country. At least, that was what Mother Lily told us whenever someone brought up Tristen.

"We here are in charge of the Tristen trade route; the main headquarters are elsewhere, though I am unsure where. You may wonder why we use a gambling ring in order to hide our traces, when it is obviously very rowdy and out-of-control. That is precisely why we use it as our cover-- if we are ever in danger of being caught, we can safely use the confusion to ensure that not enough evidence can be collected for persecution. Therefore, you may expect that your superior will be in no danger of being caught at any time soon as well."

I raised my eyebrows at that. That was sketchy. I mean, it was an illegal trade inside of an illegal gambling ring, so of course it would be sketchy, but still. To actually hear things like 'you won't be caught' (by proper, legal authorities at that) as a way of confidently assuring someone was, well, new. Also, wow, Lemon Quiche in salesperson mode was a different person altogether. Respect.

We stepped out of the warehouse in no time, and Lemon Quiche continued to lead us past the other warehouses until we reached a giant building on the other side of the lot. "I will now show you our storage area." Abruptly stopping, she turned to us, then smiled so icily that I almost took a step back. "Please understand," she said, a hint of a threat lacing her words, "that we are not so incapable of protecting our trade that you or your superior will be able to bring it down should either of you have any hopes of doing so."

Translation: we're showing you our storage area, but don't think that means you'll have any power over us if you're spies. 

"Of course not," I replied immediately, the words rolling from my tongue just as smoothly. "If your organization was that easy to destroy, my superior would not have been interested in the first place." I spread my hands out. "And look-- we didn't even bring our bodyguards. You have nothing to fear from us."

Lemon Quiche's dangerous smile widened just a fraction more before she turned back to the building. "That is good to hear. Now, please take a step back."

As she leaned towards the door and began what seemed like a whispered conversation with whoever was behind the door, I took a couple more deep breaths to make sure I was calming down. Part of me wanted to chuckle-- it was funny how I was less scared now, after Lemon Quiche had pretty much shown us her claws. Maybe it was because I felt like I could understand why it had been this easy to get this far now? After all, if they were that confident in their ability to protect their illegal trade, then they would actually be willing to take a risk and let us in like this.

An up-front threat was much, much easier to deal with than a trap. Not that the possibility wasn't there, but it did seem less plausible. A part of me now felt more relieved.

The door opened silently, and Lemon Quiche nodded us in. Since I was supposed to be some kind of servant-slash-bodyguard now, I stepped in first and glanced around, then did this kind of nod-bow thing to Rosa to let her know it was safe. (I still needed to embody the servanthood!) Flapping her fan, Rosa stepped in as well.

We walked through what seemed like a common meeting area with worn down tables and chairs until we entered a back door, in which they pulled back a rug to reveal a trapdoor. A trapdoor. Well, this was getting exciting.

"We apologize for the inconvenience, milady," Lemon Quiche spoke, addressing Rosa for the first time, "but in order to view our storage area, we will need to step through this trapdoor."

I frowned. That's right-- nobles wouldn't want to get themselves dirty. Probably. I leaned over to "Lady" Rosa (well, she technically actually was a lady) and whispered. "Would you rather send one of our own, milady?"

Rosa hesitated, then shook her head. "Murmur murmur," she murmured, and I nodded like she'd said something important.

Straightening up, I turned back to Lemon Quiche. "She'll bear with it for now."

Lemon Quiche bowed her head for a brief moment, then began going down into the narrow staircase. I held out a hand for Rosa to grab onto and stepped down the staircase myself, Rosa close behind me.

To be honest, if we wanted to make Rosa seem like a true noble, she should've remained upstairs and I should've braved the underground by myself. But what if it really was all a trap? I'm sorry, but Rosa fought better than I did, and so down the stairs we both went.

The damp smell of fish and salt hit my nose as soon as we clomped down a few stairs, and I almost gagged. "Gueh," I spit out quietly, wrinkling my nose. Ew.

We didn't need to go down for too long-- the stairs quickly gave way to a wider corridor, and we walked through it as our steps echoed in the dim hallway. Lemon Quiche half-turned to us and began speaking  again, seemingly unbothered by the smell. "You may have noticed that the scent of the ocean is getting stronger. This building is actually connected to an underground canal we've built for this trade. The smell of the port, unfortunately, follows."

I had to raise my eyebrows at that-- now that was commitment. They really weren't playing around with this, were they?

"As you may expect from having to house live cargo," she continued, "we felt the necessity of foregoing a level of camouflage for the sake of logistics. For security reasons, I have not been permitted to escort you or your superior to the canal itself... are you alright?"

"Oh! Completely," I replied, flashing her a smile, like I hadn't almost tripped over a rock. My thoughts, on the other hand, were still stuttering to a stop. Live cargo? Did I just hear her say live cargo?!?

Okay, so apparently not weapons. They were still trading something illegally across borders and across rough seas, and it had to be important enough that people were building underground canals for it. But not weapons. Or wait, if they're not weapons, what if they were... I silently gasped, then gagged just as silently. Blegh! Pressing my hand to my nose and mouth, I slowly, slowly turned my head around to look at Rosa, my eyes wide.

Living cargo.

Don't tell me. Slaves?

A/N: I'm not dead yet! And I'm going to update the next chapter tomorrow. No lies this time!!