Arc 1: The Case of the Forged Silver Coins
Chapter 1-2
The capital gained a different mood as night descended. Wives with families rushed home to tend to their households. Husbands who cared hurried along with them. The bachelors and revelers made their way to the many restaurants in the city or to livelier establishments hoping to socialize and find good company.
In the garrisons, officers changed shifts, wrote reports, and upheld peace and civility in the capital city of Genad.
Standing on the balcony outside the Inspector General’s office at the Counterfeit Inspectors Unit, Raithion Maenaer watched an attendant in the inn across light lamps to ward off the night.
The inn was one of the cleanest establishments in the capital. He knew the inn’s dining hall was packed with people having a meal. Others migrating to the second floor of the inn to watch the dancers, and listen to musicians play.
Raithion knew because he had rented a room at the back of the inn for the time being. Anyone who discovered this would think it strange as he had a perfectly good home on the opposite side of the capital.
However, he did not intend to draw attention to his presence in the counterfeit inspector’s unit because his work was confidential.
“General.”
Raithion turned to his left to find a tall thin man standing a few feet away.
The man wore silver green armor, his helmet held in his left hand. The silver-green armor was the uniform used by the exchange bureau officers. It was hard to reconcile it with his most trusted friend.
“Haedor, you look like when we were still green in the training fields at the Naga garrisons,” Raithion said, grinning at his friend’s immediate scowl.
“Don’t remind me,” Haedor said, adjusting the collar of his green armor. “This thing is too itchy. I’ll be happy when we leave here. We brought back the last of the counterfeit silvers from the exchange hall an hour ago. The two inspectors who went with me are in the main hall busy writing reports on the day’s collection. The master assayer has been working on the counterfeit silvers. He has news.”
“How much did you collect today?” Raithion asked, a frown creasing his forehead at the losses the people were experiencing.
“We are at a hundred thousand silvers this evening,” Haedor said, his tone heavy with anxiety. “There will be riots if the forced confiscation continues.”
“That is what the person behind this plot is hoping for,” Raithion said, abandoning his view of the city on the balcony, he entered the office. “The faster we can solve the source of these forged coins the better for the people.”
“Your father is waiting for a report on the composition of the forged silver coins,” Haedor said. “We find the source of the materials used, and we will have the culprit.”
“True,” Raithion said. He retrieved his sword from the top of the large desk and led the way out of the inspector general’s office. “Still, this case feels more complex than simply finding the source of the forgery.”
“Could you be over-reading their intentions?” Haedor asked as he closed and locked the door, leaving it as they found it.
Raithion wished he were, but his gut feeling told him there was more to uncover.
“We have no evidence to show there is more than a simple intention to ruin the economy,” Haedor said.
They walked along the wide corridor to a staircase that would lead them down to a main hall. The main hall was a simple room with three desks manned by three inspectors. Each desk was laden with reports of the unit’s findings on the counterfeiting case.
The true Inspector-General would then send the reports to the military general in charge of investigations in the palace’s military offices. This general would then present them to the Basileus at the imperial court.
Raithion acknowledged the two inspectors who were hard at work with a single nod. He walked tall and with purpose. None of them doubted his position as the Inspector-General. He crossed the main hall to a corridor in the back. Haedor following him close.
This corridor led to the most important room in the unit: the assaying room.
Haedor knocked on the door, and when he got a grunt in response, he slid the door open allowing Raithion to pass him first.
Raithion entered the laboratory-like space with apprehension.
The imperial assayer had a bad temper. Most of the inspectors in the main hall had long decided the assayer’s exposure to the various metals and chemicals in this room was the cause of his bad temper.
Raithion thought otherwise.
He figured the wizened imperial assayer simply did not like people and preferred hunks of metal.
“Inspector-General has arrived right on time. I, Sinsa, have found the source of the metal you have been looking for.”
“I had no doubt,” Raithion said, smiling at the old man standing behind a massive worktable.
Sinsa was over seven decades old, though he looked younger. He was dressed in a black leather apron that protected his comfortable cream linen clothes. A black metal mask rested on top of his head. He usually slid it down to cover his face when he was working. The metal mask had slits where the eyes were located. The slits were covered with light gauze used to protect the eyes. It took some getting used to when Sinsa wore it and looked at him.
Raithion was glad it was pulled up for the moment.
Sinsa’s gnarled and callused index finger pointed to a balance scale on the worktable.
Raithion smiled and moved closer.
“The forger is very skilled,” Sinsa said, his voice tinged with admiration. “He used iron to form the core of the counterfeit silver coins. Then, he adds bits of low-quality silver probably melted from a pure silver coin to fool the eye. He then plates the iron with a coating of more low-quality silver. In time, this silver coating will fade. At that time, it will be clear that there is iron underneath, but I doubt he’s worried about that. It is fine artisanship.”
“He is more concerned for the outcome of this plot,” Raithion said, studying the liquid metals on the balancing scale’s holders. They looked like liquid metallic blobs resting in fine small measuring trays. He knew nothing of their properties, so he could only trust Sinsa’s explanation.
“What am I looking at, Master Sinsa?”
“Once I discovered how the counterfeit was made,” Sinsa continued, “I decided to identify the source of the iron ore they have used. The forger is quite clever. He chose to use ore with a high concentration of iron. There are traces of titanium. The core of it is unique. So much so, that I can tell that it is only found in places where liquid fire erupts from the earth.”
“What does this ore look like in its original form?” Raithion asked, glancing at Sinsa, a streak of excitement at this low-key breakthrough racing down his back.
Sinsa reached for a small wooden box on the worktable and handed it to Raithion.
“The only source ore with this level of iron and titanium is called burnt ore,” Sinsa said.
Sinsa took a step back from the worktable and sat on a high stool studying Raithion.
“If I give you the name of the people who mine this burnt ore, what happens to them?”
Raithion opened the small wooden box and studied the burnt ore sample. He picked it out and held it to the lamp light. It looked rough and dull to his eye, harmless.
Yet, the forger who turned this into counterfeit silver had done irreparable damage to people’s lives.
“Master Sinsa, the imperial mint is very strict with counterfeiting,” Raithion said. “No one can tolerate damage to the mint. Counterfeit silver coins are ruining people’s lives as we speak. Our empire would fall if we let it continue.”
“What if the miners are not responsible for the counterfeiting?” Sinsa asked.
“I am clearly holding a sample from their product. We will have to determine their level of involvement,” Raithion said, returning the small stone of black ore to the box. He closed the lid and handed the sample to Haedor.
“Master Sinsa, the empire is not without laws. If the miners are innocent, naturally they will come out of this unscathed.”
Sinsa scoffed and reached up to remove his metal mask. His silver hair was tied in a neat bun at the top of his head. His gnarled hands untied the strings of the helmet before he looked at Raithion.
“The last miners involved in such a case ended up dead,” Sinsa said. “The Inspector-General responsible was not conscientious. He added them to the list of the guilty and an entire clan disappeared. Are you going to do the same, Inspector-General Maenaer?”
Raithion paused at the way Sinsa emphasized the title.
The assayer was not blind after all.
“I want to promise you that I will be responsible,” Raithion said, meeting Sinsa’s probing gaze. “However, you must understand that we all answer to someone higher in the chain. Such a decision does not lie with me. The matter of counterfeited silver coins must end. I’m already holding a sample of their ore. You cannot protect them, Master Sinsa. I can only promise to try to minimize the damage and get this mining clan a fair trial.”
Sinsa placed the mask on the stool next to him and studied Raithion for a moment.
“Strange but your face makes me want to believe you will try to do as you promise,” Sinsa said. “You are right. There is no turning back now. I have no choice but to trust you. The clan’s name is Sura. They mine this burnt ore from a mountain in their hometown, though I cannot tell you where. They are the only ones I have ever seen with it.”
Raithion frowned.
“You’re saying this ore can only be found with the Sura Clan.”
Sinsa nodded.
“Yes. There is no doubt. However, you cannot blame everyone in the clan for the counterfeiting. There is probably someone in the clan who is diverting the burnt ore during transit.”
“Probably,” Raithion nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Master Sinsa. I’ll make use of this information. Do not share it with anyone else.”
“Not even the team of inspectors out there?” Sinsa asked, giving Raithion a critical glance.
“Especially them,” Raithion said, the glint in his eye when he met Sinsa’s gaze had the older man sucking in air.
“You’re more than you seem,” Sinsa accused.
“If you say so,” Raithion said, and then turned away from Sinsa, ready to leave.
“Wait,” Sinsa said. “Who are you? I truly doubt you’re the new Inspector-General taking over this unit.”
“I am who I need to be for the moment. Today, I need to be the new Inspector-General,” Raithion said. “So, I am.”
Sinsa kept quiet for a moment and then sighed in resignation.
“Whoever you are, please do your best to protect the Sura Clan,” Sinsa said. “They are good people.”
“We’ll have to see,” Raithion said, giving Sinsa one last nod.
Raithion left the assaying room followed by Haedor. He did not stop until they were outside the building. Raithion took in a deep breath glad that he would not have to be here any longer. He had needed a sample of the original ore used to continue his quiet investigation. Now that he had it, it was time to return to his place.
One of the attendants at the stables brought their horses around.
“Where to?” Haedor asked when they mounted their horses and headed to the compound’s exit.
“We go to see my father,” Raithion said, as he mounted his horse. “We need to report the source of the burnt ore and get permission to start an investigation into the Sura Clan. Send someone to clear out my things at the inn across the unit.”
“I will,” Haedor said.
Raithion gave the inspector’s office one last glance, his thoughts lingered on Sinsa’s request. The Sura Clan was indeed in trouble if they had chosen to counterfeit silver coins. He was not sure what he could do for them.
Raithion urged his horse forward in the direction of the private manors on the outskirts of the city with a soft sigh.
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