“It’s not my box. I made it for a suit who was from Central.” Frederick shook his head and sighed. “Right, ok so you just found it lying around in an alleyway? Why didn’t you just hand it in to a militia man there and then?”

He scratched his chin under his beard and sighed in thought before chewing his lip hesitantly for a moment or two. “Tell you what, you’re young. I’m a lot older and know how to sweet talk my way into Central, we can also avoid militia patrols more seeing as somebody’s bound to have spotted you down at the University causing such a ruckus. I sure as heck did and I’m an old, foolish man. So the best thing for that box is if we both went, the accidental track and it‘s maker.”

He held his chin with his hand for a minute or two and pondered again, looking at the box and at Jordan. “Ditch the tack guild jacket too. If that box was in an alleyway instead of in Central like it should have been it might mean somebody other than the militia might be looking for it.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You saw this professor too, didn’t you? The one who was killed?”