The annex stayed quiet for less than half an hour.

That was the part Arthur would remember later. Not the smoke from the granary. Not Celsus’s face when Sabinus slipped away with the copied count. Not even the first real unlock from the system.

Half an hour.

That was all the truth bought them.

Soranus had left with the sealed evidence bundle under official guard. Sabinus had delivered the copy. Crispus had made two more before his stylus cracked in his hand. Naso was still bent over the table, checking numbers with a face that looked older every time he found another lie.

Felix stood near the door, pale and sweating.

Marcus watched the street.

Arthur noticed that Marcus had not sat down once.

"Too quiet," Marcus said.

No one asked what he meant.

In Ostia, quiet after violence did not mean peace. It meant someone had gone to fetch something worse.

Arthur looked at the copied grain count on the table. The wax was fresh, the lines uneven where Crispus had written too quickly. One copy remained in the annex. One would stay with Naso. One had to leave Ostia.

"Rome," Arthur said.

Crispus looked up. "What about it?"

"A copy has to reach the watch commander in Rome. If everything stays here, Celsus only needs to close the port around us."

Felix made a low sound. "He can do that?"

Crispus answered. "Not officially."

Arthur looked at him.

Crispus shrugged. "Officially is a small word. Men step around it."

Marcus nodded once. "Send courier."

"Milo knows the roads," Arthur said.

Milo, who had been pretending not to listen near the back wall, turned pale. "I hate roads."

"You hate rooms too."

"Rooms kill slower."

Felix looked at Lupo. The young runner was awake, but barely. Blood had soaked through part of the cloth on his shoulder again.

"No," Felix said before Lupo could speak.

Lupo opened his mouth.

Felix pointed at him. "No."

Lupo closed his mouth, offended by the efficiency.

Crispus rubbed his forehead. "I have a man. Brennus. Carries lamp wicks, cheap oil, little things no one important looks at. He can hide a tablet in a bundle."

"Can he be trusted?" Arthur asked.

Crispus looked insulted. "Of course not. But he owes me money, and that is better."

Felix turned toward Pavo.

The young dockworker had one arm wrapped around his ribs, his face still pale from the fire and the dust ring. He stood anyway.

"No," Felix said again.

Pavo swallowed. "You said no before I asked."

"Because I have ears and experience."

"I should go."

"You should lie down."

Pavo looked at the table. At the copied count. At the people in the room who were suddenly quiet.

"If I only stand when it is safe," he said, "I am not crew."

Felix’s jaw tightened.

For a moment, Arthur thought he would shout.

He did not.

That was worse.

Felix looked away first. "Duro goes with you."

Duro, standing by the door, nodded as if this had always been obvious.

Arthur stepped closer to the table. "Milo leads. Brennus carries the copy. Duro protects. Pavo witnesses. No fighting unless you have to. No heroics. If anything happens, the copy matters more than pride."

Pavo nodded.

Duro said, "Copy matters. Break attackers after."

"No," Arthur said. "Avoid attackers before."

Duro thought about that.

Then nodded, less happily.

Blue-gold light flickered.

Crisis Coordination I active.

Recognized units present.

Command clarity increased.

Arthur felt the room tighten around the plan. Not perfect. Not safe. But moving. Milo checked the back route. Crispus wrapped the copied tablet inside lamp wicks and tied the bundle with cheap cord. Pavo took a small knife Felix gave him and looked as if he had no idea what to do with it. Felix noticed and took it back.

"If you need this," Felix said, "you already failed."

Pavo tried to smile.

It did not work.

Brennus arrived a few minutes later. He was a broad-shouldered man with a crooked nose, gray in his beard, and the tired eyes of someone who had carried other people’s goods for too many years. He took the wick bundle from Crispus and weighed it in his hand.

"Feels expensive," he said.

"It is," Crispus answered.

"Am I allowed to know why?"

"No."

"Good. Knowing things raises prices."

Crispus put a hand on his shoulder. His voice lowered. "No back alleys after the fish sheds. Milo chooses the road. If someone stops you, you are carrying wick bundles to a shrine seller in Rome. If they ask which shrine, say you forgot. Men believe stupidity faster than courage."

Brennus grunted. "I have always found that."

Arthur watched them leave through the back.

Milo first.

Brennus with the bundle.

Pavo close behind him.

Duro last, too large to be subtle and too useful to leave behind.

They disappeared into the lane.

For a moment, the annex felt emptier than it should have.

Felix stayed by the door long after they were gone.

Arthur almost said something.

Marcus looked toward the street.

"Still too quiet," he said.

The ambush happened near the fish drying sheds.

Arthur did not see it first.

Pavo did.

A basket fell from a roof and shattered on the stones in front of Milo. Fish bones scattered across the lane. Milo stopped so fast Brennus nearly collided with him.

Duro looked up.

That saved his skull.

The club struck the back of his shoulder instead of his head. The sound was thick and ugly. Duro crashed into the wall, one knee hitting the ground.

Pavo shouted.

Men came from both sides of the lane.

Not guards.

Not clerks.

Dock bruisers. Paid knives. Two Red Rope men with red cord still tied around their wrists. One had a broken tooth. Another carried a short chain wrapped around his fist.

Brennus turned with the wick bundle clutched to his chest.

Milo ran.

One of the attackers laughed.

Then Pavo understood.

Milo was not running away.

He was drawing two of them after him.

Duro stood.

Blood ran from his scalp down the side of his neck. His eyes were unfocused for one breath. Then they cleared.

The first man reached him.

Duro hit him.

Not like a boxer. Not like a soldier. Like a dock beam dropped from a crane.

The man’s jaw broke with a wet crack. He fell without a sound.

The lane changed after that.

No more laughter.

The man with the chain struck Pavo across the ribs. Pain tore the air from him. He fell against the wall and slid down, vision flashing white. Someone kicked him in the stomach. He curled around the pain, trying to breathe, trying to see the bundle.

Brennus had it.

Two men were on him.

He slammed one into a fish rack and drove his elbow into the other man’s face. For one wild second, it looked as if he might get through.

Then a knife went under his ribs.

Brennus froze.

His mouth opened.

No sound came.

The man holding the knife twisted it.

Pavo saw Brennus’s eyes change.

Not fear.

Surprise.

As if he had expected pain but not death.

Brennus fell forward over the wick bundle, both arms wrapping around it.

The attacker cursed and tried to drag it free.

Pavo moved.

He did not think. Thinking would have made him stop.

He crawled.

Every breath burned. His ribs screamed. The lane blurred around him. Duro roared somewhere ahead. Milo shouted from farther away. A man crashed into a wall. Someone stepped on Pavo’s hand. He bit his tongue and tasted blood.

Brennus was still alive when Pavo reached him.

Barely.

His fingers were locked around the bundle.

Pavo whispered, "Let go."

Brennus’s eyes found him.

For a second, the dying man looked angry.

Then his hand loosened.

Pavo pulled the bundle beneath Brennus’s body and tore the cord with his teeth. Lamp wicks spilled across the dirty stones. One attacker saw him and lunged.

Pavo shoved his hand into the bundle, found the wax tablet by touch, and slid it beneath a loose drainage stone beside the wall.

The attacker grabbed his hair and yanked him backward.

Pavo screamed.

The man saw the torn bundle and kicked him in the face.

"Where is it?"

Pavo spat blood.

The man hit him again.

Duro tried to reach him, but two men held him back with hooks and chains. One hook bit into Duro’s forearm. Duro grabbed the shaft and pulled the man closer, headbutting him so hard the man’s nose flattened across his face.

Still, there were too many.

Milo appeared at the far end of the lane, eyes wide.

Pavo saw him.

For one second, their eyes met.

Pavo looked at the drainage stone.

Milo understood.

Then something struck Pavo behind the ear.

The world went dark.

At the annex, Arthur doubled over.

It was not pain exactly.

Not his pain.

More like the system had caught on a hook inside his chest and pulled.

Blue-gold text flashed.

Recognized Unit Under Threat.

Distance: Near range limit.

Command Response: Weak.

Recognized Unit: Pavo.

Recognized Unit: Duro.

Evidence Chain: Under attack.

Arthur grabbed the table.

Marcus was beside him instantly. "What?"

"They were hit."

Felix went white.

He moved toward the door.

Arthur did too.

Marcus stepped in front of both of them.

"No."

Felix’s eyes went flat. "Move."

Marcus did not.

Arthur’s pulse hammered. "Marcus—"

"That is what they want," Marcus said.

Felix’s hand tightened around his stick. "My men are out there."

"And the box is here," Marcus said. "Naso is here. The child is here. If you leave, they get both."

Felix looked like he wanted to kill him.

Arthur hated Marcus for being right.

Then the front door shook.

Once.

Hard.

Everyone froze.

A second blow followed. Wood cracked.

Marcus turned.

Felix’s face changed.

No more argument.

Only violence.

"Duro is not here," Crispus said quietly.

Arthur heard the fear under the words.

Duro was the wall.

The wall was gone.

The third blow broke the latch.

The door burst inward.

Three men came through first.

One with a club.

One with a hooked knife.

One with a chain wrapped around his fist.

Behind them came a fourth, thinner, eyes fixed on the table where the black box sat beneath a cloth.

Not guards.

Not officials.

Men sent when paperwork had failed.

Marcus hit the first one before he fully entered. The clubman crashed backward into the doorframe, nose breaking under the sword hilt. Marcus kicked him aside and met the knife man in the same motion.

Felix went low.

His stick cracked into the chain man’s knee. The man screamed and dropped. Felix hit him again, this time across the mouth. Blood sprayed across the floorboards.

Then Felix’s wound opened.

Arthur saw it.

A dark stain spread through the cloth around Felix’s side.

Crispus grabbed a lamp from the table and threw it at the thin man. Not the flame. The oil. It struck the floor and shattered, slicking the planks between the attacker and the black box.

"No fire!" Arthur shouted.

Crispus looked offended even in panic. "Do I look stupid?"

The thin man slipped, caught himself, and kept coming.

Naso grabbed Marilla and shoved her behind sacks of wool. She began to cry for the first time.

That sound changed the room.

Arthur moved before he knew where he was going.

The knife man twisted past Marcus. Not free, but enough. He lunged toward Naso and the child.

Arthur hit him from the side.

It was not heroic. It was stupid weight and terror.

They crashed into the table. Wax tablets scattered. Pain exploded through Arthur’s bad arm. The knife man recovered first. He slammed Arthur against the wall and drove a forearm into his throat.

Arthur could not breathe.

The knife rose.

The system flashed.

Emergency Tactical Overlay: Unavailable.

Cooldown Active.

Crisis Coordination I: Active.

Command Required.

Command.

Not strength.

Not rescue.

Command.

Arthur clawed at the man’s arm. His vision darkened at the edges.

Marcus was locked with two attackers at the door.

Felix was on one knee.

Naso had Marilla behind the sacks.

Crispus stood near the broken lamp with ash from the hearth spilled beside him.

Ash.

Arthur forced air through his crushed throat.

"Crispus," he rasped.

No one heard.

The knife angled down.

Arthur tried again.

"Crispus! Eyes!"

Crispus moved.

He snatched a fistful of ash and oil-soaked soot from the floor and threw it into the knife man’s face.

The man screamed.

His grip loosened.

Arthur dropped, gasping.

Marcus came through the room like something released from a cage.

He caught the blinded man by the back of the neck and drove him face-first into the wall.

Once.

Twice.

The man stopped moving.

The chain man tried to rise.

Felix hit him again, then swayed.

Arthur stumbled toward him, still coughing.

The thin man reached the table.

His hand closed on one of the copied tablets.

Naso saw him.

For the first time since Arthur had met him, Naso moved faster than fear.

He grabbed the black box with both hands and pulled it off the table. The thin man slashed at him with a small blade. The knife opened Naso’s forearm from wrist to elbow.

Naso cried out but did not let go.

Marcus turned too late.

Crispus threw the second lamp.

This time, not oil.

Clay.

It hit the thin man above the ear and shattered. The man staggered. Felix, still on one knee, swung his stick into the man’s ankle. The ankle turned wrong. The man collapsed with a scream.

Then the room ended.

Not literally.

But the fight did.

One man groaned by the door. One lay against the wall with blood under his face. The chain man curled around his ruined knee. The thin man wept on the floor, clutching his ankle. Marcus stood over them, breathing hard, sword red at the edge but not dripping.

No one spoke.

Marilla sobbed behind the sacks.

Naso held the black box against his chest, blood running down his arm onto the wood.

Felix tried to stand and failed.

Arthur caught him badly.

They both nearly fell.

Crispus stared at the broken lamp pieces as if offended by their poor construction.

Then footsteps sounded in the back lane.

Marcus turned, sword ready.

The rear door opened.

Milo stumbled in.

Alone.

Blood covered the front of his tunic.

Not all of it was his.

Felix saw his face.

The room went cold.

"Where are they?" Felix asked.

Milo tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Arthur stepped toward him. "Milo."

The runner swallowed. His eyes were wet and furious.

"Brennus is dead."

Crispus did not move.

Not at first.

Then his face changed in a way Arthur had never seen. No joke. No shield. Just a man taking a hit too deep for words.

Felix’s voice dropped. "Pavo?"

Milo looked at him.

"They took him."

Felix closed his eyes.

For one second, the whole annex seemed to tilt around that sentence.

Then Milo lifted a shaking hand.

"But they did not take the copy."

Arthur stared.

Milo reached into his belt and pulled out a small broken fish bone tied with thread. He placed it on the table.

"Pavo looked at the drain before they hit him. I saw. The tablet is under a stone near the fish sheds."

Arthur closed his eyes.

Pavo had hidden the copy.

While beaten.

While watching Brennus die.

While knowing they would take him.

Felix opened his eyes.

There was nothing tired in them now.

Only a kind of quiet that scared Arthur more than shouting.

"We get him back," Felix said.

No one argued.

Blue light flickered.

Hostile Escalation Confirmed.

Evidence Chain Targeted.

Civilian Ally Killed: Brennus.

Recognized Unit Captured: Pavo.

Crisis Coordination I: Combat Application Recorded.

Warning:

Trust increases effectiveness.

Trust also increases exposure.

Arthur read the last line and felt something in him harden.

Trust had made them move together.

Trust had also given Celsus names.

Faces.

Targets.

The system was not wrong.

That made it worse.

Another line appeared.

New Objective:

Recover Pavo before second bell.

Failure:

Witness chain compromise.

Felix Crew morale collapse.

Enemy interrogation risk: Severe.

Arthur looked at Felix. At Crispus. At Naso bleeding onto the black box. At Marilla crying behind sacks because grown men had brought knives into the only room that had felt safe.

He had thought evidence made people safer.

Now he understood the opposite.

Evidence made them targets.

Arthur picked up the broken fish bone from the table.

His hand shook once.

Then stopped.

"Yes," he said.

Felix looked at him.

Arthur met his eyes.

"We get him back."