The Aldric estate was exactly as ostentatious as Kaelen had imagined—three stories of white marble, gardens that probably required a full-time staff, and an entrance hall that could fit his entire childhood home inside it twice.
"Try not to look impressed," Lia whispered as they entered.
"Hard when everything's gilded," Kaelen muttered back.
Security checked their names against the guest list. Kaelen held his breath, waiting for the guards to recognize him, to realize who he was—
"Voss and Thorne, guests of Thomas Aldric Junior," the guard read. "You're clear. Enjoy the evening."
They were in.
The main ballroom was already crowded with nobles in expensive clothing, servants circulating with drinks and appetizers, musicians playing something classical and boring. Kaelen felt immediately out of place.
"Smile," Lia advised quietly. "Look confident. These people can smell weakness."
Kaelen tried to smile confidently. It felt fake.
Thomas found them within minutes, looking nervous.
"You made it," he said, keeping his voice low. "My father's over there talking to the Morwen ambassador. Stay away from him—he'll recognize you from the council hearing."
"Where should we be?" Lia asked.
"Circulate. Listen to conversations. Look for anyone discussing shadow magic, unusual investments, sudden political shifts. That's Marcus's pattern—he doesn't attack directly, he influences gradually."
"Got it," Kaelen said. "We'll be subtle."
Thomas looked doubtful but moved away to avoid suspicion.
Kaelen and Lia split up—less conspicuous that way. Kaelen grabbed a drink he had no intention of drinking and started drifting through the crowd, listening.
Most conversations were exactly as boring as expected. Trade agreements, shipping routes, whose daughter was marrying whose son. Political maneuvering that made Kaelen's head hurt.
But occasionally, something interesting:
"—heard the Shadow Hunters are being defunded. About time, if you ask me. Dangerous vigilantes with no oversight—"
"—cult activity in the northern provinces. City Guard won't acknowledge it, but merchants are disappearing—"
"—my cousin says Forbidden Blades are coming back into circulation. Three confirmed sightings in six months. That's not coincidence—"
Kaelen filed away each tidbit, trying to form patterns.
Across the room, he caught Lia's eye. She gestured subtly toward a corner where several men in dark clothing were having what looked like a very private discussion.
Kaelen drifted that direction, trying to look casual.
"—timeline is still viable," one of the men was saying. "The setback in Eredor was unfortunate, but recoverable. We simply need to—"
He noticed Kaelen approaching and stopped mid-sentence.
"Can I help you?" he asked coolly.
"Just looking for the refreshment table," Kaelen said, playing the confused guest. "This place is huge."
"Behind you, three meters," the man said, not buying it for a second.
Kaelen thanked him and moved away, but not before catching a glimpse of the man's ring—dark metal with a very specific design. He'd seen that design before. On cultists.
So Marcus did have people here.
He found Lia near the musicians.
"Dark clothes, northwest corner," he said quietly. "One of them has a cult ring."
"I saw," Lia confirmed. "But there's at least three others scattered around the room with similar indicators. Jewelry, specific clothing choices, certain hand gestures when they talk. Marcus has more infiltration than we thought."
"Can we identify them all?"
"Working on it. But Kaelen, if there's that many cultists here, what's the plan? We can't arrest them all without proof, and starting a fight would cause chaos."
"Maybe chaos is what we need," Kaelen said. "Force Marcus's people to react, reveal themselves."
"Or get us arrested for disturbing a diplomatic event."
Fair point.
The formal dinner began—everyone seated according to strict hierarchy. Kaelen and Lia ended up at one of the lower-status tables, which was fine by them. Better sight lines to watch the room.
Chairman Aldric gave a speech about unity and cooperation. It was well-delivered and completely forgettable. Then the Morwen ambassador spoke about trade. Also forgettable.
Finally, Princess Isabella stood.
Kaelen hadn't realized she'd be here. But of course she would—this was a major diplomatic event.
"Honored guests," Isabella began. Her voice carried authority that the previous speakers had lacked. "We gather in a time of transition. Old threats resurface. New alliances form. The decisions we make tonight will echo for years to come."
She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd. Kaelen swore her gaze lingered on him for just a moment.
"Some among you may be tempted by easy answers," Isabella continued. "By promises of power, of change, of a better future achieved through questionable means. I urge caution. History shows us that shortcuts often lead to cliffs."
Was she talking about Marcus? It felt like she was talking about Marcus.
"However," Isabella said, "I also recognize that the current system is imperfect. There are legitimate grievances, legitimate desires for reform. The question is not whether we change, but how we change. Through careful, deliberate progress? Or through destructive revolution?"
She sat down to polite applause.
The man with the cult ring was no longer clapping. He was watching Isabella with cold calculation.
After dinner, the crowd split into smaller groups for various discussions as Thomas had described. Kaelen followed the cult-ring man into one group discussing "magical regulation reforms."
The discussion started innocuously—various nobles proposing different frameworks for managing magical users, debating oversight requirements, suggesting licensing systems.
Then the cult-ring man spoke.
"The real problem," he said smoothly, "is that we treat shadow magic as inherently dangerous while giving other forms free rein. This creates artificial scarcity, drives practitioners underground, prevents proper research and regulation. If we simply legalized shadow magic under appropriate supervision, most of our problems would disappear."
Several nobles nodded. It sounded reasonable.
But Kaelen heard the subtext: *Make shadow magic legal, reduce oversight, create opportunities for corruption*.
"Interesting proposal," Kaelen said, speaking up. "But shadow magic has specific corruption risks that other forms don't. Wouldn't legalization just spread that corruption more widely?"
The cult-ring man turned to him. "And you are?"
"Concerned citizen," Kaelen replied. "I've seen what shadow corruption does to people. It's not something that supervision can simply fix."
"Fear and superstition," the man countered. "Three centuries ago, people said the same about elemental magic. Now we use it for everything from heating homes to powering ships. Shadow magic is simply misunderstood."
"Or correctly understood as dangerous," Kaelen said.
The temperature in the discussion group dropped noticeably. Other nobles were watching the debate with interest.
"You speak with conviction," the cult-ring man said. "Almost like you have personal experience. Have you studied shadow magic, Mister...?"
"Voss," Kaelen said, deciding lies would only work for so long. "And yes, I have personal experience."
Recognition flickered in the man's eyes. "Kaelen Voss. The Soulrender wielder. I should have recognized you."
Every person in the discussion group suddenly took a step back.
"I'm just here to observe," Kaelen said, keeping his tone light. "Not to cause problems."
"Of course," the man said smoothly. "Though one wonders why a known Forbidden Blade wielder is attending a noble gathering. Surely not to enjoy the music?"
"Maybe I'm expanding my social circle."
"Or gathering intelligence on behalf of your Shadow Hunter masters." The man's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Either way, this discussion is for legitimate policymakers. Not vigilantes."
He turned away dismissively, and the other nobles followed his lead, excluding Kaelen from the conversation.
Kaelen retreated, frustrated. He'd learned nothing except that Marcus's people were more embedded than expected, and that his own reputation preceded him.
He found Lia outside on a terrace, getting fresh air.
"That went poorly," he said.
"I saw," Lia replied. "You got recognized."
"Couldn't avoid it. They were going to figure it out eventually." Kaelen leaned against the railing. "But we're not making progress. Marcus's people are here, they're spreading influence, and there's nothing we can do without proof or without starting a fight we can't win."
"Maybe that's not our role tonight," Lia said thoughtfully. "Maybe we're not here to stop them. Maybe we're here to gather intelligence so we can stop them later."
"That feels like giving up."
"That's called strategy." Lia pulled out a small notebook. "I've identified eight probable cultist infiltrators. Got their names, their connections, who they're talking to. That's valuable information for future operations."
"I guess," Kaelen admitted.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the city lights below.
"Do you ever wonder if we're fighting a losing battle?" Kaelen asked quietly. "Marcus has resources, political connections, decades of experience. We've got a forbidden sword and good intentions. How do we win against that?"
"Same way anyone wins against superior forces," Lia said. "We're smarter, faster, more adaptable. We make them fight on our terms, not theirs."
"That's easier said than done."
"Most worthwhile things are."
A commotion inside drew their attention. Raised voices, sounds of argument.
They rushed back into the ballroom to find Princess Isabella confronting Chairman Aldric.
"—cannot continue to ignore clear evidence!" Isabella was saying, her voice cutting.
"I am not ignoring anything!" Aldric replied, his face red. "I am maintaining order and preventing panic! If I acted on every unverified rumor—"
"These are not rumors," Isabella interrupted. She held up papers—the letters Thomas had given them. How had she gotten those? "These are documented communications between your office and known cultist intermediaries. You've been manipulated, Chairman. Possibly for months."
Aldric's face went from red to pale. "Those are forgeries—"
"They're verified by royal investigators," Isabella said. "You've been compromised. As of this moment, you are suspended from council duties pending full investigation."
The ballroom erupted in shocked conversation.
"You cannot do this!" Aldric protested. "The council—"
"The council answers to the crown," Isabella said coldly. "As do you. Guards, please escort Chairman Aldric to secured quarters. Gently. He's not under arrest, merely... protective custody."
Guards moved forward. Aldric looked around desperately, as if hoping for support.
Instead, he found cold calculation on noble faces. No one wanted to defend a potentially compromised Chairman.
Thomas appeared at Kaelen's side. "She used my letters," he said quietly. "I gave them to her this morning. Thought if anyone could act without causing civil war, it was Isabella."
"Good call," Kaelen said.
As Aldric was escorted out, the cult-ring man from earlier caught Kaelen's eye across the room.
The man smiled slightly, nodded once—acknowledgment between enemies—then turned and walked calmly toward the exit.
Marcus's people were retreating. Regrouping.
This round went to Isabella and the defenders.
But the battle was far from over.
And Kaelen had a sinking feeling that Marcus had expected this outcome. That this was just another move in a much longer game.
One they were still struggling to understand.