Wilbrecht shrugged his shoulders and gave a curt nod, leading them through the small hamlet to where a ramp of stone and earth humped up to the retaining wall. They climbed up over it and then moved down the otherside on a similar construction thirty paces down the wall. Men in smocks and leather slippers were wheeling a cart stacked with carefully lashed barrel into one of the adobe silos.

“Ve vere seyent to kinfyrm zat za seelos hayd beyen runsucked,” Natasha explained. Both Wilbrecht and Marius stared at her as though she had suddenly sprouted an additional head.

“Um we were sent to authenticate Herr Grunwald’s account that one of his silos had been looted,” Marius said with a gentle shrug of his shoulders to the other Imperial. Despite the request being in his own language this seemed to discomfort Wilbrecht further.

“There has been no looting sir and madam,” he said with offended dignity. He pushed open the door and led them inside. Barrels of powder were stacked in neat pyramids reaching up towards the ceilings.

“Security is very tight, and as you can see the silos are close to full owing to a dispute with the stevedores in Wolfenburg, now resolved I’m pleased to say,” he went on.

“Herr Grunwald’s pigeon merely noted he was sending a pair of agents to inspect the works,” Wilbrecht said with a hopeless shrug.

“No runsucking? Seyem mirchant trick?” Natasha asked, her cold eyes narrowing. 

“I can only assume that you misunderstood Herr Grunwald,” Wilbrecht simpered. Natasha’s eyes grew more arctic.

“I assure you she did not,” Marius interjected. Wilbrecht crossed his arms.

“I shall send a pigeon to Wolfenburg to request clarification,” he said at last, leading them out of the powder mill and back towards the town, scratching his head in confusion.

“I doubt a reply shall be forthcoming by morning though, so in the mean time, make yourselves at home in the tavern, eat and rest, and in the morning we will sort it out.”