Chapter 579: Who Actually Crosses

"Whoever did this needed to move freely between both halves."

Valerica laid the evidence across Maren’s table the following morning.

Rurik was there too, this time by invitation rather than coincidence.

Valerica tapped the forged letter.

"They needed weeks to practice a convincing copy of Corl’s handwriting. They needed access to the storage shed. They needed enough familiarity with both sides that their movements wouldn’t immediately raise questions."

She looked between Maren and Rurik.

"That leaves a very small pool."

"Almost nobody crosses freely," Rurik said.

He glanced toward the barricade.

"That’s the whole problem we’ve been living inside."

"Almost nobody," Isole corrected. "Not nobody."

Maren’s jaw tightened.

Vane watched her work through the possibilities in silence. The names were clearly coming to her faster than she wanted them to.

"The traders," she said.

Her tone had become clinical.

"There are four. Maybe five, depending on whether you count the physician’s messenger boy."

"Why are they allowed through?" Ashe asked.

"Because refusing them would mean both halves actually starving instead of merely distrusting each other."

Maren folded her hands.

"The traders have passage both sides still honor. The boy carries messages for the old physician. Nobody likes it, but everyone understands the necessity."

"How long have they had that privilege?" Valerica asked.

"Years."

Maren’s mouth tightened.

"I know all of them. I’ve known most of them for years."

"That," Nyx said quietly, "may be exactly why they were chosen."

Everyone looked at her.

"Cassian wouldn’t need a stranger."

She rested one shoulder against the wall.

"A stranger gets noticed. Someone unfamiliar has to explain why they’re there, who they know, where they’re going."

Her eyes narrowed.

"He’d use someone everyone already trusts."

Rurik looked down at the table.

For the first time since Vane had met him, he seemed genuinely unsettled.

"That leaves five people I’d have vouched for personally."

He shook his head.

"A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice."

Valerica’s expression hardened.

"That is why it worked."

They divided the interviews that afternoon.

Valerica and Isole took the formal questioning. Nyx watched for the subtle shifts that came when someone’s answers stopped matching what they had prepared beforehand.

Mara sat nearby with her ledger.

Three of the five cleared quickly.

The first was an elderly trader who had spent years complaining openly about both factions. She distrusted Maren, distrusted Rurik, distrusted most forms of authority, and had apparently been doing so long enough that there was nothing calculated about it.

The second was a young man who had only recently arrived from a border settlement. He hadn’t possessed the access or familiarity required to practice Corl’s handwriting over the necessary weeks.

The third was the physician’s messenger boy.

He was barely older than Rowe had been.

Isole questioned him carefully.

His movements were confirmed by three separate witnesses.

Every detail matched.

There was no gap.

No contradiction.

No sudden adjustment when a question changed direction.

He was simply telling the truth.

That left Osric.

A trader.

Middle-aged. Well regarded. Twelve years of accepted crossings between both halves.

His interview began normally.

He answered every question without difficulty.

He explained where he had gone, what he had carried, who had signed for his deliveries.

Then Mara looked up from her ledger.

"Your delivery schedule."

Osric turned toward her.

"Yes?"

"You cross four times a week."

"That’s correct."

Mara rotated the ledger toward him.

"No."

Osric’s expression remained neutral.

Mara pointed to the page.

"I’ve been tracking checkpoint traffic since we arrived. It’s a habit."

Her finger moved down the column of dates.

"You cross six times most weeks."

She looked up.

"Sometimes seven."

For the first time, Osric didn’t answer immediately.

"The additional crossings aren’t connected to any delivery logged on either side."

The silence stretched.

"Personal errands," Osric said.

Mara waited.

"They don’t always appear in official records."

"What kind of errands?" Valerica asked.

Osric’s shoulders shifted slightly.

"The kind that aren’t anyone else’s business."

Nyx straightened.

"He’s lying."

Osric looked at her.

Nyx’s voice remained calm.

"For the first time."

Vane watched Osric carefully.

"Everything before this was true," Nyx continued. "Your deliveries. Your schedule as you reported it. Most of what you told us."

Her eyes sharpened.

"This isn’t."

Osric’s hand moved toward his belt.

Ashe moved before he could finish.

She stepped between him and the door.

No weapon drawn.

No threat in her posture.

She simply occupied the only path he could use.

"You don’t want to do that."

Osric froze.

He looked at Ashe.

Then at the rest of them.

Something in his face broke.

Vane had seen the same exhaustion on Corl two days earlier.

But this time it carried something different.

Guilt.

Fear.

And the terrible relief of someone who had finally run out of places to hide.

"You don’t understand what he’ll do."

Osric’s voice shook.

"Not to me."

His hand dropped from his belt.

"To my daughter."

The room went still.

"She’s been across the border for two years."

He swallowed.

"Every week I don’t deliver what he asks for is another week he reminds me how easily that could stop being true."

Maren had gone pale.

Vane saw the realization strike her almost physically.

"I’ve known Osric twelve years," she said.

Her voice was quiet.

"I trusted him because I’d known him twelve years."

She stared at him.

"That was precisely why he never made my list of people worth watching."

Osric lowered his eyes.

"I know."

Isole’s voice softened.

"Then tell us everything."

He looked at her.

"Properly."

She leaned forward slightly.

"That is the only version of this where your daughter actually stays safe."

Osric closed his eyes.

For a moment, he seemed to gather whatever remained of himself.

Then he began.

"He doesn’t want the wall to fall."

Rurik’s face hardened.

"He never has."

Osric’s hands were trembling.

"Every task has been small."

He stared at them.

"A rumor here."

"A misplaced letter there."

"A suggestion given to the right person."

"Nothing that looks like sabotage by itself."

Mara’s expression darkened.

Osric nodded.

"That’s the point."

He rubbed his palms together.

"He never asks for enough to expose the whole thing. Just enough to make sure whatever trust starts forming between the two sides doesn’t have enough time to become permanent."

The room was silent.

"The wall survives because people keep finding reasons to protect it."

Rurik looked toward Maren.

"No."

Osric shook his head.

"It survives because someone keeps giving those reasons a push."

Mara looked down at the ledger.

"The well."

Her voice was almost inaudible.

"Was that him too?"

"No."

Osric answered immediately.

"That was really an accident."

Something about that answer made the room colder.

"He didn’t need to cause it," Osric continued. "He already had the letter prepared."

Valerica’s eyes narrowed.

"For an opportunity."

Osric nodded.

"He knew something would happen eventually."

He swallowed.

"He was waiting for the right moment."

His gaze lowered.

"Then the well broke."

Three days passed.

"And he used it."

Valerica looked at Maren.

Then Rurik.

Both leaders sat in silence, absorbing the same conclusion.

The accident had never been part of the plan.

The preparation had.

"The well wasn’t the danger," Valerica said quietly.

She looked at the forged letter.

"The danger was that someone had already decided how to use whatever happened next."

Outside, the barricade still divided Meridine.

But now they knew someone had been standing beyond it, watching both sides closely enough to know exactly where the next fracture would hurt.