The morning sun painted Vespera's rooftops in molten gold as Regulus adjusted his coat collar against the salt-tinged breeze. Beside him, Nyx stretched like a cat awakening from a nap, her shadow stretching unnaturally long across the cobblestones.
"Right," she declared, cracking her knuckles. "I'll take the docks and the pleasure district. You can go play noble with the stuffed shirts."
Regulus frowned. "We should stick together. We don't know the rules here."
Nyx's grin turned razor-sharp. "That's what makes it fun." She flicked his nose before he could react. "Don't worry, little moth. If I find our not a merchant friend first, I'll try not to start the negotiations without you."
As she melted into the morning crowd, her shadow momentarily split into three figures before reforming. Regulus sighed - that was Nyx's version of a reassuring goodbye.
Regulus left navigated the wide, flagstone streets of Vespera's power center with careful steps. Unlike the chaotic docks, here every hedge stood military-straight, every guardsman's armor gleamed mirror-bright.
The Lord's Citadel dominated the district, its pale stone walls adorned with fluttering blue banners bearing a silver hawk sigil. Regulus noted the positions of sentries, the rhythm of patrols - old habits from another life.
At the Administrators' Hall, a commotion caught his attention. A florid-faced merchant was waving a parchment at a stone-faced magistrate.
"-unfair tariffs!" the merchant sputtered. "The Rosewind Guild gets special treatment while-"
The magistrate snapped her fingers. Two guards stepped forward. The protest ended abruptly.
Regulus filed that away as he moved on. ''Man, she works fast.'' He mutters to himself.
The garden square appeared like a mirage between towering government buildings. A tiny café nestled beneath ancient olive trees, its wrought-iron tables nearly empty at this hour.
The old man at the corner table didn't so much sit as lounge, his silver hair catching the dappled sunlight. A wineglass dangled from his fingers, the liquid within shimmering oddly in the light.
"You walk like someone carrying invisible weights," the man remarked as Regulus passed.
Regulus stopped. The words had slithered into his ears without the man appearing to raise his voice.
The stranger smiled, revealing teeth too perfect for his aged face. "Join me. The wine here is terrible, but the company..." His gaze sharpened. "Well. That remains to be seen."
Against his better judgment, Regulus sat.
Across town, Nyx hummed as she strolled through the fish market, her new boots avoiding the worst of the guts and scales littering the stones.
A meaty hand grabbed her wrist.
"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be down here alone," the fishmonger leered, his breath reeking of cheap gin.
Nyx smiled sweetly. Her shadow detached from the ground and wrapped around the man's throat.
"Let's talk all day long kind sir," she purred as his face turned purple.
Back at the café, Regulus's tea had gone cold untouched.
"-and then there's you," the silver-haired stranger mused. "A boy who knows games that don't belong to this world. How terribly interesting."
Regulus's hand twitched toward his knife. The stranger laughed - a sound like coins cascading on marble.
"Oh, put that away. If I wanted you dead, you'd have choked on your own shadow by now." He leaned forward. "Tell me, little king of borrowed games... what do you know of Altena's new playthings?"
The world seemed to tilt. Regulus's vision swam as the god's - for surely it was a god - eyes swallowed his awareness whole.
Dusk found Regulus stumbling into their inn room, his head pounding as if he'd been underwater for hours.
Nyx sat cross-legged on the bed, polishing her new dagger with a bloodstained cloth. "You look like shit," she observed cheerfully.
Regulus collapsed into the chair. "Met a god."
Nyx's eyebrows shot up. "Huh. Did they at least buy you dinner first?"
He groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes. The god's final words echoed in his skull:
"When you meet the Mad's daughter again... ask her about the eighth vote."
Nyx tossed the dagger onto the bedside table with a clatter. "Well, I found out our merchant friend's been cozying up to the city guard captains. Seems the Rosewind Guild's buying protection."
Regulus lowered his hands. The pieces were moving. Tomorrow, they'd have to confront Cordelia.
But tonight... tonight his skull felt full of broken glass and divine whispers.
Nyx threw a pillow at his face. "Stop brooding. You need sleep."
As if on command, the church bells began tolling midnight. Somewhere in the city, a god laughed, and the wind carried the scent of salt and secrets through their open window.
-----
The café's olive trees cast dappled shadows across the same wrought-iron table where Regulus had met the god yesterday. Now, Cordelia sat in that very seat, her gloved hands folded neatly around a teacup that steamed despite the morning heat.
Nyx slouched in her chair, boots propped on the table's edge until Regulus kicked them off. She grinned, unrepentant.
"So," Regulus began, ignoring the way his pulse jumped when Cordelia's gaze locked onto his. "Can you start explaining more about your circumstances?"
Cordelia's smile was polished steel. "Let us first discuss progressing our shared venture, Mr. Nihil."
Nyx nearly choked on her stolen pastry. "Oof," she crowed, slapping the table. "Ya hear that, little moth? She said Mister. Looks like your first attempt at wooing a girl failed before it even began!"
Regulus's ears burned. "Quiet down, Lady Nyx."
Cordelia sipped her tea, unfazed. "I assume you've already explored this fair city?"
Regulus nodded. "Enough to notice the Rosewind Guild's sudden... legitimacy."
A leaf drifted onto the table between them. Nyx flicked it toward Cordelia like a chess move.
"Funny thing," Nyx purred. "Met a drunk guardsman last night who swore your 'guild' paid off three captains just yesterday."
Cordelia's cup clinked against its saucer. "Business licenses require fees. As I'm sure your companion learned when he gifted me this enterprise." Her gaze slid to Regulus. "Speaking of which—our first shipment of game boards sails for three coastal cities tomorrow. You'll want your percentage upfront, I imagine."
Nyx's eyes gleamed at the mention of money, but Regulus leaned forward.
"Keep the gold. I want answers instead." The morning light caught Cordelia's rose pin, making it gleam like fresh blood. "Starting with why a disciple of Hephina the Mad is playing merchant."
''Keep his share,'' Nyx butted in. ''I want mine!''
A sudden breeze stirred the olive branches above them. For the first time, Cordelia's perfect posture faltered—just a fraction.
"It's all your fault," she murmured, "I had to kickstart and lead a fucking business so suddenly."
Nyx's stretched across the table, coiling around Cordelia's untouched teacup. "Uh, what?"
Somewhere in the distance, church bells began to toll. Cordelia exhaled, her breath disturbing the steam from her tea. When she looked up, her eyes held something new—something almost like conviction.
"And you Nyx Familia," she said. "Will pay back each and every grievance I felt."
The café's door chimed as a group of guardsmen entered, their armor clanking. Cordelia's gloved hand slid a folded note across the table.
"I am Fillian Hellis. Sent to investigate and spy on Regulus Nihil for his unique magic: As I've written. I can't be bothered to maintain secrecy anymore so I am telling you this now. And you wont escape even with my cover blown."
Nyx snatched the paper before Regulus could react. "Oh, well it looks like they really pulled out all the stops to protect that grimoire you used my little King," she said, grinning like a knife. "But they did not learn everything. Athena Familia wouldn't send her if that was the case."
As Cordelia disappeared into the sunlight, the god's warning echoed in Regulus's skull:
Ask her about the eighth vote.
The wind carried the scent of salt and secrets—and the distinct feeling that the board was being set for something far more dangerous than any of them realized.