Grumbling under his breath, Gideon walked along. “After all that effort, he still wouldn’t let me into the garrison? Dammit. I’m never going to get anywhere like this.

“Unless… I have some evidence. And if I know anyone who’s going to have a way to fabricate evidence, it’s the Nightfellows. The Nightfellows, who are almost certainly behind those ice cream shops popping up everywhere! Ice cream shops in this city? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t have the infrastructure to maintain them. They’re definitely a front for the Nightfellows, especially with them popping up so often recently, or so Jet said. With my fellow Nightfellows at my side, I don’t need real evidence. We’ll just make some fake evidence and use that to convince everyone!”

He sighed and shook his head. “It’s too bad I didn’t think of this earlier.”

At that, Gideon froze. Other passerby walked around him, giving the strange man who kept stopping to talk to himself funny looks, but he ignored them.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not right. Until now, I was happy to leave things the way they were. But if they’re bringing True Dragons into the equation, I can’t let it stand any longer. I’ve got to play my trump, too. Revealing dragons’ transformative powers to humans is the best way to give us a real chance to fight back.

“Of course, I’m not going to harm myself to accomplish that. Better to harm someone else!”

Smiling, Gideon set off, goal firmly in mind Rather than head back to the ice cream shop he’d seen earlier, Gideon picked a random direction and wandered along, scanning the streets as he walked. He tugged on the collar as he walked, frowning. Jet can still follow me because of this damned thing, but if he doesn’t think to check it first and runs back to that first ice cream shop we stopped by, I might be able to buy some time.

He kept his head on a swivel, shoulders back, head up. A few people paused or stared at his ragged robes, but he beamed at them until they turned away. He plucked at his robes, dissatisfied, but ultimately kept moving. I can bug Jet for better ones later.

Last time I was here, the whole capital was a twisted mess of streets. Now it’s all neat and orderly. I wonder what happened to the Nightfellows? Angel still recognized the organization, so they must still exist, but…

A hanging placard carved with a cow and a block of ice caught his eye. Gideon turned and walked inside. White tiles on the floor, wooden walls, an informal wooden top in the back, and a single man, smiling. “What can I get for you today?”

Gideon smiled back. He sauntered over, taking his time, and leaned on the countertop. “The nighttime special.”

The man frowned at him. “We don’t do specials, sir.”

Guess the old codewords are out of style. “What do you do, then,” Gideon asked, propping his head on his fist.

“I make and serve ice cream, sir,” the man replied, giving Gideon a look.

Gideon waved his hand. “No, no, spare me the bullshit. There’s no way there are actually this many ice cream shops in the city. Putting everything else aside, the ice boats only come down in the winter, right? You know, the northern barbarians cut up big slabs of ice, then ship them down the river to us. Even if you have an ice mage, this number of shops isn’t sustainable.”

“Sir, we simply put in a large order during the winter and store the ice in the cellars. A few ice mages help keep them frozen by going around once a month and refreezing them. In fact, they’ll make more ice for a small fee. There’s nothing special about it.”

Gideon scoffed. “Ice mages are that plentiful, that they have nothing better to do with their lives?”

“Most of them are technically paladins, right? Or what’s the word for it. They use enchantments,” the man replied.

“That many paladins are free? With the True Dragon on your doorstep?” he asked, squinting.

The man shrugged. “I’m not forcing them to do what they do. They chose their own lifestyle. Not every paladin wants to fight for their lives, right? I mean, if you could cast a few ice spells and make enough money to get by that way, wouldn’t you?”

“You… make a good point,” Gideon muttered under his breath.

Exasperated, the man sighed. “So do you want ice cream or not?”

“I want to investigate this place! This is clearly a conspiracy!” Gideon declared, straightening up. “I’m a member of the ice cream investigation squad. Show me your ice cellars!”

Are the ice cream shops not some kind of front for the Nightfellows? Is this some kind of draconic conspiracy instead? Ice dragons can produce ice, after all, and almost limitlessly, without the worries of a mage, who has to pay for pages, or a paladin, who has to pay for enchantments!

The man frowned at him. “There’s no such thing as an ice cream investigation squad. What on earth…”

Gideon leaned in. “You see this collar? Do you know what it means?”

The man looked at his collar and shook his head.

“See these enchantments? See this inscription? This fine magical device is the proof of an ice cream investigator. If I see anything… unsavory going on, I can instantly report back to my office through this collar,” Gideon bluffed.

“Our ice cream is sweet, not savory,” the man replied.

“Unsavory! I knew it! Let me see your cellars.”

“Why?”

Gideon narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so insistent I can’t see? Mighty suspicious.”

The man frowned at him, confused.

“Don’t question the ice cream investigation squad. Show me your ice cellars, or I’ll have you arrested,” Gideon said, standing up and putting his hands on his hips.

The man hesitated one last moment, then shrugged. “Come on down. I don’t usually show guests the cellars, but it can’t hurt, I guess. Next time, kid, just ask me to go see them normally.”

“Kid,” Gideon grumbled, but followed the man anyways.