Springtrap squinted into the shadows beyond the coiled rope and stacked crates.
"…You've been standing there for at least forty-seven seconds."
A pause.
Liora stepped out calmly, brushing dust from her sleeve.
"You noticed at thirty."
Springtrap froze.
Processing.
"…I like you."
"You were counting out loud."
"I was not."
"For three seconds."
Springtrap blinked once.
"…That explains the discrepancy."
Liora's mouth twitched faintly.
On the open deck, Roald's attention shifted as he noticed the movement. He said nothing, but his eyes tracked the exchange before returning to the matter at hand.
Footsteps approached.
Kingfisher.
"If the calibration is complete," he said flatly, "we have a leader to retrieve."
Springtrap didn't look away from Liora.
"We were establishing compatibility."
"You were circling each other."
"Same thing."
Kingfisher ignored her and unfolded a map across a crate. The parchment snapped lightly in the river wind.
"They transported Lomor east," he said. "Granary district. Old holding structure near the inner wall. Six visible guards. Rotating patrol. Unknown interior count."
Roald stepped forward.
The shift in him was subtle, but present.
The humor drained from his posture.
"Not a public square," he said quietly.
"No," Kingfisher replied. "Not yet."
"He's leverage," Roald said.
Kingfisher nodded once.
Winch moved closer, hands clasped behind her back.
"Debt Collectors calculate high probability of relocation within forty-eight hours."
Roald studied the map.
Then he spoke.
"We don't breach the granary."
Springtrap looked up. "We absolutely breach the granary."
Roald shook his head once.
"They expect that. If he's leverage, they'll be watching for an external attempt."
Kingfisher's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Continue."
Roald exhaled slowly.
"They won't keep him there long. They'll move him to the castle once negotiations begin. Or once they think we're planning something."
Sir. Wilkinson's prosthetic hand adjusted with a soft click.
"And you intend to accelerate that."
Roald nodded.
"We make enough noise at the granary to force relocation."
Springtrap grinned. "Ah. Chaos as persuasion. I approve."
"While they move him," Roald continued, more evenly now, "the castle will be stretched. Guard rotation shifts inward. Outer corridors thin."
Kingfisher was watching him closely now.
"And then?"
Roald glanced at Liora.
Just once.
"We go in."
Springtrap blinked.
"Define 'we.'"
"Liora and I."
Silence.
Winch tilted her head. "Elaborate."
Roald straightened slightly — not puffed up, not posturing. Just steady.
"The castle knows my face," he said. "They expect me to stay hidden. They won't expect me to walk through the service corridors."
Sir. Wilkinson's expression did not change.
"That is not a small risk."
"I know."
His voice stayed level.
"You said he's leverage. That means he's alive. That means they'll want him intact. They won't kill him during transport unless they're cornered."
Kingfisher's tone was clinical. "You assume predictability."
"I assume pride," Roald replied. "Nux won't waste a public opportunity."
That landed.
Springtrap's grin faded into something sharper.
"And Liora?"
Roald didn't hesitate.
"She moves quieter than I do."
Liora raised an eyebrow slightly.
"That's not difficult."
A flicker — just enough humor to keep the edge from becoming arrogance.
Roald allowed the corner of his mouth to shift before returning to seriousness.
"She tracks. She adapts. And she won't argue when I say run."
Liora looked at him directly.
"I will argue," she said calmly.
"After," Roald amended.
A beat.
Springtrap leaned over the map again.
"You're suggesting infiltration during transfer window," she said. "Internal extraction while external pressure diverts."
"Yes."
Winch spoke, voice measured.
"Debt Collectors can create diversion at granary. Controlled detonation along south wall. Non-lethal. High visibility."
Springtrap brightened. "Non-lethal is relative."
Kingfisher cut in smoothly.
"Focus."
He looked at Roald.
"You are thirteen."
"Yes."
"You are not invulnerable."
"No."
A breath.
"And you understand that if this fails, they will not attempt a second capture."
Roald held his gaze.
"I'm not planning to fail."
There it was.
Not reckless.
Not dramatic.
Just simple belief.
Sir. Wilkinson studied him for a long moment.
Then:
"If this proceeds," he said evenly, "it proceeds precisely. No improvisation for pride's sake."
Roald nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Springtrap looked between Roald and Liora.
"…This is extremely irresponsible."
Liora folded her arms.
"It's efficient."
Springtrap grinned again.
"Fine. I'm in."
"You are not infiltrating the castle," Kingfisher said flatly.
"I meant emotionally."
The wind shifted across the dock.
The map rustled.
Different ages.
Different temperaments.
One objective.
Retrieve Lomor.
Roald's hand rested lightly against the parchment.
For just a second — only visible if someone was watching closely — his fingers tightened.
Then he released it.
"We move before dusk," he said.
And this time—
His voice didn't change at all.