Deeper

The Trevelyan District of my city is not a welcome place for strangers, particularly after dark. It is much like the Anbar in that respect, suspicious and quick to level judgment on those that wander into her midst. Having said that, I was not to be deterred. If the salt is making it into the city surreptitiously, held in reserve until the Administration has the population under control, it will be in the warehouses of the Trevelyan or somewhere equally foreboding. That is my assumption, that it will be kept where no one wishes to go looking for it, if it is in the city at all. I know it isn't in the Anbar, arguably the only place more foreboding than the Trevelyan in the entire city. There are few that would perpetrate such an insult against their neighbors in that District, the District in which I personally do business. If there is a perpetrator of this sort in that neighborhood, he will not have to worry over a mere Magistrate of the People when he is found out.

My sojourn into the Trevelyan last evening was ill-advised. My presence, particularly in an official capacity, was not welcome. I traveled with two slaves, Elise and Six, but they were unharmed. Rational men are unlikely to harm beautiful women. There are better uses to put such things to. I expected resistance, even hostility when I made my intent known. I would inspect the warehouses, unannounced, and demand an accounting of their inventories. I did not bring a cadre of armed men, for such a display only invites an armed defense. Also, I do not feel as if I can rely upon men not directly under my employ. I trusted the imperium of the Office, such that it is, and a self-assured tone would be enough. It was not. I was turned away by the man standing watch over the warehouse doors. And, to further the point, I was fired upon by an unseen assailant with a crossbow. In time, I am sure I will feel more shaken by the experience than I do right now. However, the sound of the bolt rushing by my ear and burying itself in the wood of the warehouse door isn't something I am able to get out of my head. The 'sssst' and the thunk as it struck the timbers brought me out of my sleep several times last evening. The only consolation is that it was obviously a warning and not an earnest attempt to put me down. I am running into too many obstacles in the search for answers. And I am in over my head.