Number Two's surveillance feed caught sight of a man I recognized from before. Yes, it was the same individual Wizebel had contracted for the raid.
So, he was a black-market dealer after all.
"Weapons and offensive magic tools," the merchant declared.
"They won't be traceable, will they?"
Plink wasn't naive. He knew how to cover his tracks.
"The order is under the city guards' name."
"A forged order?"
"No, it's genuine. You don't need to know where these items end up."
"Genuine is fine," Plink nodded.
They planned to reroute supplies from the city guards. The funding likely originated from a noble's 'donation,' with the noble lending only their name while thieves actually supplied the funds. It was a setup as old as corruption itself.
Plink's next stop was a general goods shop. The shopkeeper's grin was wide at the sight of such a large order. What would his face look like if he knew these supplies were bound for thieves?
