THIEF OF BREAN (VOL-1)|✓

INKLINGS- XVII

Next day, Carl and Giles, along with a team of army personnel, conducted a thorough investigation around the Blenwustite hills and the Vermit folk settled there. The information that they could gather by the end of the day was this:

-The three Vermit men were a group of thieves who ran around mobbing and scavenging their fellow Vermit folk. They were even ousted from the jobs in the mines after they were caught stealing refined iron from the factories.

-The army personnel were able to find four more sand pits on the hills, containing loads and loads of sand in them. The sand pits were told to be natural occurring as the hills were basically formed by the sand turning into rock over the course of time, a common geological occurrence.

-One of the personnel supposed that the pits were used by the Vermits to escape the army during the Cinnabar riots. In those times, it was famously called the Vermit drag-sand trick. Back then, the army had sealed many of such pits with concrete. However, Carl and Giles did not deem it necessary. Instead, they positioned Sentinels on the lookout for the thieves.

-The tall man was often seen wandering the place in the evenings or lounging on the outcrops toward the night. The Vermit kids called him Tall Chad. There was nothing more they knew about the mysterious wanderer.

It was late in the evening when he returned to the Governor's estate. Osanne was sweeping the corridor. "Long day, Officer?" she asked him.

Carl let an exasperated sighed. "It always is."

Walking straight into the kitchen, he gulped down a glass of water. Scraping sounds were coming from the living area now. Osanne was sweeping the living area.

Carl filled another glass of water and walked to his desk. "How long have you been here?" he stated a casual conversation.

"It's been about seventeen years."

"That's a lot of stolen apples, isn't it?

Osanne looked startled. Seeing her go still for a moment amused him. It took her just a second to recover. She masked the shock quickly and dropped her gaze to the floor. "What apples?" she muttered, resuming her sweeping.

Carl chuckled, really pleased in days.

"Apples those grow red and ripe in the Governor's orchards. I know you have your light fingers on them, Osanne."

She did not dare lift her head at him. Instead, continued with the sweeping. He waited for some time hoping she would come up with a reason. When she didn't, he sat down on his desk.

He caught Osanne staring at him strangely when he looked up.

"Marvision pheria?" she said.

Carl blinked. "Pardon?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"You said something."

"I just remembered some work in the mansion. I must hurry."

"You sure do." Leaving her to her cleaning, he went through the information he had gathered in the day. It amused him more to see her move about the room like a scared rat. She was terrified. No matter how much she tried to hide it.

Carl propped his chin in his palm as he asked her, "What do you know about the drag-sand trick?"

"Sand what?"

"Drag-sand trick. It is said to be a ploy used by Vermits during the Cinnabar riots... to escape the army."

She gave a distrait shrug. "Never heard of anything like that." Carl watched her gather the dust absently. She appeared pensive and troubled.

"I stole them for the children," she blurted a while after. "The little children of street sweepers and sewage workers. Have you ever wondered how these kids would survive with the small wages of their fathers? Why would you? You'd not get the pleasure of laughing at our misery then."

"That's not true." Carl had noticed one thing about this woman she was not afraid to speak up likewise other Vermits. Maybe it was the reason she opted to act as a mute on the first place. He had encountered resentment in her eyes before, now he heard it in her words too.

"We are stuck in a country that does not want us live or die..." her words trailed off as she walked past him to the other corner of the room.

Truly, Vermits did suffer from crushing poverty in Aristos. But that did not mean she was saying any truth. She could be just making things up to convince him. For once he thought of asking her about Balin Grey too. But then, he chose not to. He was already under surveillance by army personnel. By asking her now he would only have him alerted.

For some time after, the woman kept her focus on mopping the floor. She stopped at once and turned to him. "Please do not report it," she said. She wasn't exactly pleading. But a tone used to challenge the actuality of his conscience. "The fruits and grains are surplus. I don't think it is crime to feed it to some helpless empty stomachs. If you happened to report it, they'll suffer."

Yeah, definitely a challenge.

"Have you been doing this the entire time?"

"Yes," she mumbled. "I beg you, Officer-"

"I won't report. Not to mention that I have no proof to charge your felony."

"They don't need a proof to imprison a Cinnabar," she said setting her foot past him to the kitchen, eager to escape his sights.