After Fabian was arrested and handed over to the authorities at the magistrate's office, Damian and Maurice finally retired for the night. Both men had spent the entire day navigating danger.
They took shelter at a modest inn on the edge of the town. The place was quiet, its wooden interiors lit by the soft glow of lanterns that hung from the ceiling. A few travelers sat scattered across the room, but no one paid much attention to the two men who had just entered.
Maurice set two glasses on the table and poured a drink for Damian.
Sliding one toward him, he leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Now that Fabian has been arrested," Maurice said thoughtfully, "the other powerful men involved in this filthy trade have likely already begun cleaning their tracks."
Damian lifted the glass slowly, staring at the amber liquid for a moment before taking a long sip.
"I did this for those children," he said quietly.
His gaze remained fixed on the table.
