[b]Piero[/b] crouched beside the mud-caked plate and scraped the last of the dirt free with his thumbnail. [color=00a651]“This is Brass Lantern Private Hire. They run enclosed coaches and lantern wagons for wealthy track patrons, sponsors, and anybody rich enough to want discretion with upholstery.”[/color] His eyes lifted to Hwicce. [color=00a651]“So yes. Either they were hired, stolen from, or somebody wanted us to find this.”[/color]

[b]Gears[/b] rolled one massive shoulder, amber light pulsing in the joints of her gauntlet. [color=f26522]“Meaning we got a company to visit.”[/color] She tipped her fedora lightly toward [b]Elora[/b]. [color=f26522]“Pleasure’s mine, Lady Vaelthorne. And for the record, I also prefer jobs that don’t end in a brawl. They just never ask me what I prefer.”[/color]

Behind them, [b]Elora[/b]’s gentle pressure finally got another scrap from [b]Nino[/b]. [color=fff200]“I saw one of those wagons yesterday,”[/color] he admitted, pointing weakly at the faceplate. [color=fff200]“Late. South side. Curtains drawn. I thought it was a sponsor pickup.”[/color] At that, [b]Piero[/b] stared at [b]Freyic[/b] for a full beat as he began his breathtaking explanation about magic. [color=00a651]“Remarkable,”[/color] he said flatly. [color=00a651]“And from this dazzling lecture, I gather nobody here can track through city streets by magic.”[/color]

Hwicce’s conclusion hung there plainly enough. The road would have swallowed the trail. The wagon company would not.

Gears cracked her metal knuckles with a whir. [color=f26522]“Then Brass Lantern it is.”[/color]

Piero rose, smoothing his tie. [color=00a651]“Good. Their office is three streets over, near the betting arcades. If they leased that wagon, we ask questions. If they lie, Gears stops being decorative.”[/color]

Gears grinned.

[color=f26522]“I was wondering when my part started.”[/color]

[hr]

The route to [b]Brass Lantern Private Hire[/b] took them out of the stable quarter and into a cleaner slice of the racing district, where money stopped pretending to be practical and started dressing itself up. The streets here were broader, the lamps brighter, and the storefronts polished to a shine that made even nighttime feel curated. Betting arcades buzzed with soft, constant noise behind brass-framed windows. Men in tailored coats stood beneath awnings discussing odds like priests debating doctrine. Even the horses hitched along the avenue looked brushed within an inch of vanity.

Brass Lantern stood near the corner of a crescent-shaped street, its frontage done in lacquered black wood and gold trim, with tall windows of smoked glass that revealed very little of the interior. Elegant script curled across the sign above the doors. Not gaudy. Worse. Confident. The sort of place that expected its customers to already know its rates and not ask twice.

Two men stood outside beneath the lanterns, both broad through the shoulders and dressed in dark coats too well fitted to be ordinary doormen. One held a cigarette between two fingers and watched the street without seeming to watch it. The other had the posture of a man who knew exactly how much trouble he could legally pass off as security work. Neither wore colors, badges, or anything so crude as open allegiance.

Still, the message was plain enough.

This was not Calabrese ground.

A row of sleek enclosed coaches sat along the side yard beyond an iron fence, each polished, crested, and attended. Stableboys moved briskly under the eyes of clerks. A pair of well-dressed patrons emerged laughing from the main office, only for that laughter to die the moment they noticed Piero and Gears among the approaching party. One of them muttered something to the other and both got moving again with the quick, practiced discretion of people who recognized a brewing inconvenience and wanted no part of it.

Piero slowed just enough for the others to feel the change in air.

[color=00a651]“Now,”[/color] he said quietly, adjusting his tie, [color=00a651]“we are no longer somewhere people are afraid of being rude to us.”[/color]

Gears rolled her neck once, the joints in her gauntlets giving a low mechanical click.

[color=f26522]“Good,”[/color] she said with a grin. [color=f26522]“I was getting worried the city had no standards.”[/color]

Summarization: The group followed a new lead - the faceplate that pointed them to Brass Lantern Private Hire. They now stand in front of the main office. The choice on how to approach it remains to be decided.