2026-04-28 15:25:28The heavy silence of the auction hall was broken by the sound of groaning metal. The two gold-armored guards, men who weighed twice as much as Lucian, were suddenly flying backward. Lucian hadn't even drawn a weapon; he had simply rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, sending a pulse of the Heaven-Forging Flame through his muscles.
The guards hit the marble floor with a sickening thud, their spears clattering away. The crowd erupted into a chaotic murmur.
"Did you see that?" a merchant whispered, his voice trembling. "He didn't even use a technique. He just... threw them off like they were made of straw."
"Impossible," another replied, squinting at Lucian. "The boy is core-less. We all saw him lose his essence core years ago. He’s a cripple! It must have been a fluke. The guards probably slipped on the floor."
Caspian, who had been halfway out the door, spun around. His face was a mask of disbelief that quickly shifted back into a jagged, defensive arrogance. He marched back toward the center of the hall, pointing a shaking finger at Lucian.
"You see!" Caspian screamed, his voice cracking. "He’s using forbidden arts! He’s a danger to everyone here! Guards, they most have slipped, you fools! Get up and kill him!"
Liora stood beside Caspian, her eyes wide as she watched the two elite guards struggle to find their footing.
"Caspian is right," she added, her voice high and desperate, trying to convince herself more than the crowd. "He has no core. He’s probably using some toxic smoke from the Bone-Yard to dizzy the guards. It’s a trick, nothing more than a pathetic trick from a desperate man."
Lucian stood in the center of the aisle, the box containing the Phoenix-Heart Root tucked securely under one arm. He looked at Liora, then at Caspian, his expression one of pure, weary boredom.
"A trick?" Lucian asked. "Is that what you call it when someone is actually stronger than you? You’ve spent so much time hiding behind your family name that you’ve forgotten what real strength feels like."
"Shut up!" Caspian roared. He turned to the back of the hall where a squad of Royal Guards—men in silver and blue, the Emperor’s own enforcers—stood watch.
"Royal Guards! I am Caspian of the Iron-Fang! This man is a thief and a practitioner of the dark arts! I demand you seize him and throw him into the Black Cells immediately!"
The Royal Guards hesitated for a second, then began to move. Their captain, a man with a scarred face and a heavy broadsword, stepped toward Lucian.
"Step aside, boy," the captain warned. "We don't care about your drama with the Iron-Fang, but we won't have a commoner causing a riot in a Royal-sanctioned auction. Move, or we’ll move you."
"He isn't moving anywhere," a voice like cracking ice rang out from the entrance of the hall.
The sound was so sharp, so authoritative, that everyone—including the Royal Guards—froze in place.
A woman walked into the room. She wasn't wearing the heavy armor of a soldier, but a flowing, midnight-blue gown that shimmered like the night sky. However, pinned to her shoulder was a small, unassuming badge that made the Auctioneer’s face turn as white as a ghost. It was the Crest of the Imperial Vanguard.
Everyone gasped. Not just because of the badge, but because of her beauty. She was like a statue carved from moonlight, her features so perfect they seemed unreal.
Liora, who usually prided herself on being the most beautiful woman in any room, suddenly looked like a common peasant in comparison.
Young nobles and wealthy merchants immediately straightened their tunics, their faces lighting up with greedy interest.
"My lady," one young lord stammered, stepping forward to intercept her. "I am the son of the—"
Seraphina didn't even look at him. She walked past him as if he were a piece of furniture.
"Excuse me, beautiful lady," another tried, flashed a charming smile. "If you are looking for the VIP section, I would be honored to lead the way. A woman of your stature shouldn't be walking amongst—"
Again, she ignored him completely. Her eyes were locked on only one person in the entire hall.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the most beautiful, clearly high-ranking woman they had ever seen walked straight past the front row, past the VIP boxes, and stopped right in front of the soot-stained scavenger in the back row.
Then, the world seemed to stop. Seraphina, the Ice General, the woman who knelt for no one but the Emperor, lowered her head and bowed deeply before Lucian.
"I have been looking for you," she said, her voice soft but carrying to every corner of the room.
The Auctioneer dropped his gavel. Liora let out a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat. Caspian’s jaw hit his chest so hard it was a wonder it didn't break.
"Wait... what is this?" Caspian stammered, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "Who is she? Why is she bowing to him?"
"You don't recognize the VVIP badge?" someone whispered from the crowd, their voice full of terror. "She doesn't just have a seat here... her family owns the Golden Lotus and the ground it stands on."
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173
Pavel Ors had left the barracks before noon.The King had ordered two soldiers to accompany him back to the eastern district, where he would help identify the office in which he had worked. He had also been instructed not to discuss his visit with anyone until the inquiry was complete.Hector watched the party leave through the courtyard.“He was careful with his answers,” Lucian said from the bench near the window.“He was a clerk,” Hector replied. “Careful answers are part of the profession.”Lucian shifted against the cushion. His strength was returning, but slowly. He had spent the morning reviewing the dispatch records with the King and had needed to stop twice to rest his eyes. The King had noticed both occasions and had made no effort to hide his displeasure.“He remembered Venn,” Lucian said. “But he could not remember whether Doss's credential appeared on the list.”“He also said he never saw the tokens.”“Which means he cannot confirm that the list was accurate.”Hector turn
172
The handwriting examination produced its first result the following morning.Hector was with the King when the archive clerk arrived, carrying the original notice ending Marek Doss's employment and three pages of comparison entries. The clerk placed them on the table and waited until the King had finished reading the report.“The acknowledgment beside Doss's name does not match the handwriting of the administrator who approved his departure,” the clerk said. “It also differs from the hand used for most of the other returned-token entries in that register.”“Does that establish that it was forged?” the King asked.“No, Your Majesty. The entries were made by several clerks over the years. We cannot identify the writer from the samples available. We can only say that it was not written by the administrator whose name appears on the notice.”Hector examined the acknowledgment.“Was the person who received the token supposed to sign?”“Yes. The procedure required the receiving clerk to rec
171
The first reply concerning Marek Doss came from the western district.It was brief and unhelpful. Doss had been employed as a temporary document courier by the royal household, but his service had ended several years earlier. The district office held no record of his arrival, and no subsequent appointment had been entered against his name.The second reply came from the city watch.A man matching Doss's description had once rented a room near the southern gate, but the lodging-house keeper had closed his establishment before the date could be confirmed. No forwarding address had been left.Hector read both reports in the King's presence.“We know he received the token,” he said. “We don't know whether he returned it, lost it, or gave it to someone else.”The King tapped the dispatch book with one finger.“And we don't know whether the token found near the northern gate was the original.”“The locksmith believes it was made to the same pattern as the household tokens. The number matche
170
The royal archive sent its reply shortly after the morning bell.Hector was reviewing the previous day's reports when a clerk arrived carrying a narrow wooden case. Inside lay three registers, a bundle of loose slips, and a sealed statement from the chief archivist.“The records concerning numbered tokens were kept separately from the ordinary guard inventories,” the clerk explained. “The archivist found these in a cabinet used by the former royal household administration.”“Why were they kept separately?” Hector asked.“The tokens were not issued to ordinary guards. Some were used by messengers and officials who needed to collect sealed documents from restricted offices. The register was maintained by the household administration, not the captain of the guard.”Hector opened the case.“Who had access to it?”“The chief administrator and two clerks. The archivist could not establish whether the register was complete. Several pages have been removed.”Hector looked up.“Removed recentl
169
The search for the boy began before sunrise.Hector divided the city watch into small teams and sent them to the messenger stations, market stalls, and lodging houses along the northern road. The description was limited: a boy of fourteen or fifteen, with a scar near his ear, who had carried a folded message to a man in a grey coat.It was not much to work with. Boys carried messages throughout the capital, and a scar was hardly unusual. Still, the lodging-house keeper had remembered the boy clearly enough to distinguish him from the other children who visited the courtyard.Hector instructed his men to ask questions without making accusations. If the boy had been paid to deliver a message, he might have done nothing more than earn a few coins. Frightening him into silence would serve no purpose.By midmorning, the first team returned with a name.The boy was called Niko. He lived with his aunt in a narrow street behind the old cloth market and sometimes carried parcels for merchants
168
Hector returned to the eastern market before the afternoon crowds had begun to thin.He took Sergeant Pell and two guards with him, leaving the rest of the barracks to continue the inquiries into Silas Merrow and the missing records. The report from Nessa had given them a place to begin, but he knew how quickly a witness's memory could become unreliable when several people questioned them about the same event.The market watch commander met them beside the gate.“We have checked the men assigned to investigations in this district,” he said. “No one admits to questioning the fruit seller, and none of the descriptions match an officer we can identify.”“Did anyone show her a warrant or an official seal?”“No. She says he displayed a paper, but she could not read it.”“Then the paper proves nothing.”The commander lowered his voice. “There is another matter. Two merchants remember a man in a grey coat asking questions about strangers near the northern road. One says the man asked whether
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