Chapter 93: Infiltration
21st September, Year 1420 — Rune Era.
A pale light leaked through the lace curtains as dawn crept across the city.
Raven sat on the edge of his bed, fingers tracing the faint scars along his wrist. His eyes were cold but alert. Steam drifted from the bathroom door — the scent of soap and heat blending with the faint tang of iron from his gloves drying on the stand.
He buttoned his white shirt, straightened the black vest, and reached for his shoes. Before he could slip them on, a firm knock echoed through the quiet room.
"Jacob?"
"Good morning, my lord," came the reply as Jacob entered. His black suit was pressed to perfection; even the silver watch chain across his chest glinted like discipline itself. In his hand was a Gladstone bag, worn at the edges from travel.
He set it on the table and opened it with a click. Inside lay sealed envelopes, folded garments, and a faint smell of wax and ink. Jacob withdrew a thick paper and offered it with both hands.
"This," he said quietly, "is your appointment letter. The bribes were handled through the Underground Guild, and a loan shark's name was used for authentication. Everything checks out."
Raven took the paper. His gaze flicked over the crisp handwriting, the embossed seal of the Supreme Court.
Jacob spoke as Raven read. "Your alias is Levi. Eighteen years old. Born in the Commoners' Borough. No parents, no family. Basic schooling only. Worked for a loan shark named Samuel since childhood. Samuel rewarded your loyalty with a recommendation."
Raven's lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Even for sweeping floors, they demand a history."
"There's a waiting list a hundred names long," Jacob said. "Five gold coins monthly is a fortune to the poor. Without the five hundred gold bribe, we'd never have slipped you in."
Raven folded the letter neatly and looked up. "You didn't reveal yourself to Samuel or Everett's man?"
Jacob's eyes met his. "Everything was done anonymously. No one will connect this to you, my lord. The wig and makeup will do the rest."
Raven nodded slowly. "Good. Then the Court will see a sweeper, not a noble."
Jacob reached into the bag again and produced a folded green uniform. "The workers' attire."
Raven took it, feeling the roughness of the fabric between his fingers. "Excellent."
He stored both the letter and the uniform in his inventory and turned toward the window. Outside, the street was alive — carriages rolling, guards saluting nobles, the faint chatter of morning servants preparing for their masters.
Across the road, banners fluttered above a marble estate. Raven's gaze lingered. Judith's mansion. The air there buzzed with restrained excitement.
"It seems our neighbor's hosting something today," he murmured.
Jacob followed his gaze. "Vice-President Judith returned home yesterday. There's to be a banquet tonight. Butler Harold advised us to stay clear."
Raven smirked faintly. "A warning from a distance. How polite."
He slipped on his coat. Together, they descended the spiral staircase to the main hall, where Selene and Stephanie waited by the door.
Stephanie bowed, handing him a small satchel. "Lunch, my lord. Please be careful."
Before Raven could reply, Harold stepped forward. "Mr. Holmes," he said carefully, "why do you never take guards or servants? You're a nobleman, are you not?"
Raven paused on the threshold, his expression unreadable.
"I move faster when I'm alone," he said simply. "Is the carriage ready?"
Jacob nodded.
"Good. Selene—stay below ground until I return. Complete the task as instructed."
Selene bowed. "It will be done, my lord."
Raven walked down the path through the garden. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of wet stone and trimmed hedges. At the gate, a black brougham carriage waited, its wheels glinting with dew.
The coachman tipped his hat. "Where to, sir?"
"Market Street."
The carriage lurched forward, hooves clattering against cobblestone. Raven leaned back into the velvet seat, the hum of the city slipping past the windows.
'Too many eyes,' he thought. 'Even a disguise can't protect me from carelessness.'
[Review the plan?]
"Yes," he whispered. "Let's go over it again."
The city rolled by — bakeries opening, vendors shouting, a priest blessing passers-by.
By the time the carriage reached Market Street, sunlight had risen above the rooftops, warming the stone. Raven paid the fare and stepped out, the noise of morning swelling around him.
He crossed the street to an old wagon drawn by three horses. Its driver smoked lazily, eyes half-closed.
"Smith Road," Raven said, tossing him two silvers.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Not the usual destination for a noble. Hop in, lad."
Raven climbed inside and shut the door. Curtains drawn, the world went dark. He removed his formal clothes and slipped into the coarse green uniform. His fingers combed his hair into uneven strands, and he traded his polished shoes for worn leather ones.
When he looked into the hand mirror, a stranger stared back — sun-dark skin, dull brown eyes, a faint scar by the lip.
[Face Morph complete.]
He smiled thinly. "Now, let's vanish."
Through the gap in the curtain, he watched the slums pass — crooked houses, muddy alleys, people who looked away when carriages rolled through. His pupils shimmered faintly as Mind Eye activated.
The world slowed.
Every flick of motion, every breath of air came into focus — a beggar boy huddled near a trash tin, an old woman selling stale bread, a cluster of thugs smoking under a torn awning. And a ginger cat perched on a barrel, staring straight at him.
Perfect.
He whispered, "Shadow Shift."
Darkness warped. In the space of a blink, the boy in the wagon vanished. A ginger cat sat in his place, licking its paw.
The real Raven stood now in the alleyway's shadow, eyes glinting beneath the grime. He adjusted his shirt collar, blending into the slow march of morning workers.
Another wagon waited at the corner. He flicked three silvers toward the driver. "Supreme Court."
The man cracked his whip. "Aye. Hold tight."
The ride took half an hour. The air grew cleaner, the streets broader, the houses richer. When they reached the circular compound of the Supreme Court, Raven stepped down, thanking the driver with a coin flick.
"Good luck, lad," the man said, chuckling. "You'll need it."
Raven gave no answer. Ahead, five workers in green stood by the side gate, waiting to be checked by guards. He slipped quietly into their line.
Three policemen in red uniforms watched with the patience of hawks. One leaned forward as Raven reached the desk.
"Name?"
"Levi, sir."
The officer skimmed the parchment, his eyes darting up and down Raven's face.
"New worker?"
"Yes, sir. Appointment came yesterday."
One of the older workers laughed. "That's right, Kairo. We were told a new boy'd join today."
The officer grunted, stamping the paper. "Everything checks out. Don't make trouble."
A gray-haired man clapped Raven's shoulder. "Welcome to hell, boy. Name's Gerald. Stick with me."
They passed through the side gate and into the marble corridors. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting lines of crimson and blue across the floor.
Inside the storage room, Gerald began assigning tasks. "Axel, Roman—Chamber of Deliberation, Hall of Records. Zion, you're with me for the Inquiry Room, Clerk's office, and Judges' chambers."
He turned to Raven. "You'll handle the Main Hall of Judgment."
Roman frowned. "What? That place takes three hours with four men! He's new!"
Gerald only smirked. "The lad looks eager. Aren't you, boy?"
"I'll try my best," Raven said meekly, lowering his head.
"That's the spirit."
The others left with their brooms and bins. Gerald lingered, glancing down both ends of the corridor before speaking softly. "You paid well for those two hours. Make them count. The head patrol won't be around till the afternoon. If anyone comes, Zion'll warn you first."
Then he left.
Raven stood alone. The hallways were eerily quiet.
He walked until the air changed — heavier, solemn, echoing. The doors before him opened to reveal the Grand Hall of Judgment.
Rows upon rows of empty seats curved around a central dais. The marble floor gleamed under the light pouring from the glass dome above.
Raven stepped in. His footsteps echoed, each one a whisper of his intent.
He traced the path to the Counsel's Table, then to the Judges' bench, the Defendant's cage, the gallery seats engraved with noble crests. Every name, every position—he memorized them all.
He closed his eyes.
In his mind, the room filled with life. Voices, arguments, gasps of the crowd. The clang of the gavel.
He opened his eyes again and exhaled slowly.
"Let's begin rehearsal."
He shifted his form back to his true face, his black hair gleaming faintly in the shafts of light. The coat he wore shimmered into a formal black morning suit, his hat resting lightly in his hand.
Then he began to speak—first softly, then louder, pacing before the table like a seasoned advocate. His voice filled the empty hall, rising and falling in a practiced rhythm. Sometimes pleading, sometimes cold. For one hour, the Supreme Court became his stage.
When his throat burned dry, he stopped. "Enough."
He changed back into the green uniform, returned his disguise, and picked up the broom. Dust rose in lazy spirals as he swept. By the time the others returned, he'd barely cleared a third of the hall.
Lunch came and went in tired silence. They worked until the sun dipped low.
Gerald stretched his back with a groan. "Even with five of us, we barely saved an hour. Let's call it."
They stored their tools and left together, laughter and small talk drifting in the evening air. The guards at the gate barely looked up as they exited.
Raven's chest eased with quiet relief.
Outside, he caught a carriage to Smith Road, then another to Market Street. By the time he returned to Crown Tavern's mansion, dusk had fallen.
The street outside buzzed with noise — carriages, music, and laughter spilling from the neighboring mansion.
He paused at the gate. "What's happening tonight?"
Jacob met him in the hall, wiping his hands on a towel. "Madam Judith's banquet, my lord. It's her 'second birth' — the day she was taken in by her teacher. She calls it her birthday now."
Raven's gaze lingered toward the glow of her estate. A celebration of rebirth… fitting.
He turned down the left corridor and descended the cold stone stairs.
The basement door creaked open. Warm lamplight spilled over him.
Selene appeared, hair tied back, eyes sharp as always. "Welcome home, my lord."
Raven stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Everything's ready?"
"Yes," she said, her tone quiet but certain.
He nodded once, the corners of his mouth tightening. "Then the real trial begins."