The market hall in Ceil buzzed with its usual morning energy. Saint walked between Sheriff and Shed, the three of them weaving through the crowd after a quiet breakfast at the Rusty Anchor. Sheriff's red eye scanning every stall. Shed's eyes watching . Saint kept his hands in his pockets, still getting used to staying in one place longer than a single night.
Sheriff stopped near a fruit cart.
"Something feels off, kid," he said. "I heard three merchants complaining about missing tools this morning. And the innkeeper lost a whole crate of supplies last night."
Shed hissed softly.
"Yeah. Word is spreading fast. Someone is stealing all over town. Tools. Food. Even glowing herbs from the old woman's stall. If it keeps up people will start blaming outsiders like us. We are still new here. We do not need that kind of trouble."
Saint frowned, the weight of it settling heavy in his chest.
"We cannot let that happen. We are trying to make Ceil our base for now. Maybe we should help. Turn detective for a bit. Ask around. Find the thief before things get worse."
Sheriff tilted his head.
"Good idea, kid. We know the town well enough now. We interrogate everyone. Stay polite. Listen close. The thief will slip up eventually."
Shed stood taller and wiped his claws on his wraps.
"I am in. We split up. Cover more ground. Meet back at the Rusty Anchor at sunset with what we learn."
They nodded and separated. Saint headed toward the Rusty Anchor first. Sheriff took the floating market edge. Shed went to the reptile district.
Saint found the innkeeper behind the counter polishing glasses.
"Hey. We heard about the thefts. Mind if I ask a few questions?"
The innkeeper sighed and set down the glass.
"Sure, kid. I lost a whole crate of dried meat and two glowing lanterns last night. Woke up and the back door was jimmied open. No prints. No noise. Whoever it is knows how to move quiet."
Saint: "Did you see anyone suspicious around the inn?"
Innkeeper: "Not really. Just the usual travelers. One young fella with a hood kept his face down. Paid in small coins. Left early. Could be nothing though."
Saint nodded and scribbled the details in the small notebook they had bought for the investigation.
"Thanks. We will find who did it."
Next he talked to the old reptile woman at her herb stall. She eyed him with yellow eyes like Shed's.
"You three are the new arrivals, right? What do you want?"
Saint: "We are trying to catch the thief. Anyone steal from you lately?"
Old woman: "Yes. My best glowing herbs. Gone this morning. I saw a shadow near the back of my cart at dawn. Small. Fast. Moved like a scared animal, not a professional. Left a footprint in the dirt. Small boot. Kid size maybe."
Saint wrote it down fast. Kid size. Interesting.
"Thanks for the help."
Across town Sheriff questioned a merchant selling scrap metal. The man wiped sweat from his brow.
"My best tools vanished overnight. Hammers. Cutters. Even a small welder. I locked everything. Still gone. I think it is one person. Too clean for a gang."
Sheriff: "Any description?"
Merchant: "Saw a figure in the shadows last night. Hood up. Thin. Ran when I yelled. Fast but clumsy. Like he was not used to running from trouble."
Sheriff stored the info in his memory banks.
"We will handle it."
Shed interrogated a group of guards near the town gate. One guard leaned on his rifle.
"Yeah we lost patrol rations. Someone took our packs while we were on break. Left nothing but a small hand print on the crate. Not adult size."
Shed flicked his tail.
"Hand print. Small. You think it is a kid?"
Guard: "Could be. Times are hard in Ceil. Some kids lose their families. They get desperate."
Shed thanked them and moved on.
By sunset the trio met back at the Rusty Anchor. They spread their notes on the corner table.
Saint: "The innkeeper saw a hooded young fella. Old woman saw a small shadow and a kid-size boot print."
Sheriff: "Merchant described a thin figure. Clumsy runner."
Shed: "Guards found a small hand print on the crate. Sounds like the same person. Not a pro. Desperate."
Saint looked at his friends, something soft hitting his chest.
"A kid. Struggling. Just like how things get sometimes."
Sheriff stood up.
"We keep looking. One more round tomorrow. Ask the children in the park. They see everything."
The next morning they split up again. Saint talked to a group of kids playing with a glowing ball near the park. One boy about twelve looked nervous when Saint mentioned the thefts.
"You know anything?"
Boy: "I saw a teenager hiding near the old storage huts. He looked hungry. Dirty clothes. Kept saying he was sorry under his breath. Ran when I got close."
Saint gave the boy a small piece of glowing fruit.
"Thanks. You helped a lot."
Sheriff questioned a shopkeeper near the storage huts. The man pointed.
"I saw him last night. Teenager. Maybe fourteen. Thin. He took some bread and tools. Looked scared, not mean."
Shed found an old man feeding birds. The old man nodded.
"Yes. I saw the boy crying behind the huts. Said he had no home. No food. Stealing to survive."
The clues pointed to one place. The old storage huts on the edge of town.
The trio met there at dusk. They moved quiet through the broken buildings. A faint light glowed from a small shack in the back.
Sheriff: "Stay behind me. We talk first. No fighting unless he runs."
They approached the shack. Inside, a teenager sat on the floor. He was about Saint's age, maybe fourteen. Thin. Dirty clothes. Messy hair. A small pile of stolen tools and food sat beside him. He looked up, eyes wide with fear.
Jax: "Please do not hurt me. I did not mean to. I just needed food. I have nothing left."
Saint stepped forward slowly, heart aching because he knew that look.
"Hey. I am Saint. These are my friends Sheriff and Shed. We are not here to hurt you. We know what it is like to feel alone and scared."
Jax wiped his eyes.
"My name is Jax. I am fourteen. I have been hiding in Ceil ever since. Stealing just enough to eat. I am sorry."
Shed crouched down.
"We get it, Jax. We all struggled. But stealing makes it worse. It brings trouble down on everyone."
Sheriff knelt so his red eye was level with Jax.
"Kid, we turned detective because of you. The whole town is scared. But you are not a criminal. You are surviving. Like us."
Saint sat beside him.
"Look. We can help you. Give you a job. You help us with whatever work we find. Earn honest money. No more stealing. No more hiding."
Jax looked at them, tears in his eyes.
"You would do that? After I stole from everyone?"
Sheriff nodded.
"We were all the new kid once. We help our own. But you stop the thefts. Return what you can. The town will forgive if you try."
Jax nodded slowly.
"Okay. I will. Thank you. I thought everyone here would turn me in."
They walked Jax back to the Rusty Anchor. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow but Sheriff paid for an extra room. Saint gave Jax some of their Enzo for new clothes.
That night they sat together in the common room. Saint looked at Jax. And said promise you won't steal
Jax. Yep. No more stealing."
Jax smiled for the first time.
"I will work hard. I promise."
The peaceful town of Ceil slept outside. The thefts had stopped. The trio had solved their first real case as detectives. They turned a struggling teenager into one of their own.
Saint lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling. Veyra was full of people just trying to make it through the day. But together they could fix some of it. One friend at a time.
The road ahead still twisted with danger. But the crew had grown. Their first detective case was closed. And Saint knew more adventures waited just beyond the town lights.