All of this would be so much easier if not for how damn thorough the Royalty of Azdon had been. They could have simply whisked the Princess away when she hit her teens, shoved her on some indebted nobles hands and made his job so much easier.

That way, he could just lock himself in a room at one of the Company’s intelligence offices and look at every students entire life story until he finds the one that appeared out of nowhere. A suddenly discovered merchants bastard daughter, a suddenly adopted nobles in-law. No matter how long it took, he’d find the blanks eventually.

But no, they had planned this far in advance. She had been taken from her mothers arms at birth and hidden away among the upper class. Nothing about her physical features were known. Not the colour of her eyes, for she had yet to open them before she was disappeared. Not the color of her hair, for she had none when the doctor saw her. They had made sure to interrogate him quite thoroughly, the doctor. They’d found the drunken old man in his second year of infiltration.

He hadn’t even known the mother was a Queen Consort, or that he had held the second in line to the throne in his hands.

His job would also be much easier if they had started searching earlier, but they hadn’t cared before. Hadn’t had a reason to. They thought the King was being paranoid again, the Azdonians were being skittish. They had made jokes about it in bars and whorehouses.

‘The Royal Family is mighty scared, oh yes, terrified! The moment the King saw the Leviothan offensive he knew he had to hide his daughter, he did!’

And they were pleased. The Company was very pleased indeed. They profited from war and terror. They profited from chaotic times, intrigue and politics. There was always need for his kind. You need a fellow merchant to disappear? A troublesome bastard child to forsake any claims to your wealth? A competitor in love, a rival for a lady’s hand in marriage, to be found drunk and filled with opium in a cheap brothel?

The Company was at your service.

There was always need for stabbings in the dark, and so The Company would always be, but any good business would love to maintain the state of most profit. And so The Company loved calamity. Times of unease and disaster, times of monsters and men. Men turned monsters.

And so The Company loved War. Whether it be overt with rallying knights and cavalry charges, or more of the quiet sort. Trade, honor, tradition, politics. The Company was at your service.

And it was due to that exact reason that this princess couldn’t be allowed to grow.

For on the year of her 16th birthday it was announced she would be married to the Second Prince of Leviot. Ending the tensions between the two countries once and for all.

Making Daggerfort pointless.

Making their profits sink.

But it had been too late for The Company to throw its weight around. They had given the Azdon 16 years to hide her. Hide everything about her. So many feints, so many diversions. They knew what they were doing, exactly who they were going up against. They knew every bloody party with even the slightest of power has a motive to know her. From the usual kidnappings for ransom or dreams of seduction, to the more sinister plans. Using her blood in retarded rituals, offerings to unholy gods. Using her bones in interfusions to cause harm to the King himself. Getting rid of her soul, making her a puppet, to have the political power of a Princess.

Or killing her, plain old. But maybe with a little spice. Maybe the royal crest of Leviot signed onto her flesh with a knife, to make it clear who did it. Of course, neither the Queen of Leviot nor the King of Azdon were dumb enough to actually believe such an occurrence. But it would complicate things. Confuse nobles, confuse officials. Muddy the waters.

The Company swam best in muddy waters, they’d do the rest.

He just had to find her.

He just had to bloody find her.

In an academy with 1252 students, 610 of which were female.

The Germans had such wonderful words to describe emotions, Weltschmerz.

Of course, if he counted only the Seniors then the number would be much less. They did know her birthday after all. But there was no guarantee she wasn’t hidden between her youngers. The only guarantee they had was that she would be attending. That still left the Royals with way too many cards to play, and John Schneider with way too little. She could be, quite literally, anyone.

She could have been handed to any of the noble families at birth, even The Vee couldn’t refuse a King so easily. The merchants were par for the course, some of the more… ambitious ones would probably slaughter their own children to have the chance to raise a Princess. Knighted families would be honored to serve a royal as such. Anyone. She could be anyone.

His task seemed almost hopeless, until he received a letter from The Company. It arrived 2 days after the ribbon of Knoxfort was cut and classes started. Came with one of the files he had requested. Sealed tight with the Daggerfort stamp.

They had finally found someone that knew something. A handmaiden that had seen her in her mothers hands, and paid more attention than the doctor had.

“A little birthmark, like a crooked crescent moon”. She said, “above the small of her back.”

He was overjoyed, drank himself piss drunk.

It was only on the very early morning, nursing a little hangover with a cup of coffee in the teachers break room listening to Gregor repeat his “kids these days” rant, that he realized he’d have to spy on the naked backside of girls half his age.

He wanted to kill something. If Gregor didn’t stop talking at that exact moment, maybe by some knightly instinct, there would have been a very obvious murder mystery for the constables to solve that day.