The carriage ride back to the Ironclad Estate was a quiet affair, filled only with the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones and the distant, fading music of the Imperial Garden Party. The adrenaline that had sustained Valeria through her audience with the Emperor began to bleed away, leaving behind a cold clarity. They had poked the hornet's nest. Now, they had to survive the swarm.
Kael sat opposite her, his massive frame taking up most of the cabin. He had left the silver chain on the grass of the Imperial Garden, a symbolic shedding of the "pet" persona, but he still rubbed his neck as if the phantom weight remained. He stared out the window at the passing gas lamps of the capital, his golden eyes reflecting the flickering light.
"A Prince," Kael rumbled, breaking the silence. His voice was low, vibrating against the velvet seats. "You called me a Prince of the Golden Steppes."
Valeria leaned back, massaging her temples. "I did."
"There is no such kingdom," Kael said, turning to face her. "And even if there were, I do not belong to it. I was born in the breeding cages of the Southern Pits. My mother was a gladiator who died when I was three. My father was a genetic experiment the Guild discarded. I am a mongrel, Valeria. A lab rat with claws."
He looked at his hands, the bronze tattoos shimmering in the dim light. "Why lie about who I am? Is the truth of my strength not enough for your Emperor?"
Valeria looked at him. She activated the Merchant's Monocle, though she kept her face impassive.
[Target: Kael.]
[Species: Golden Tiger (Hybrid).]
[Hidden Trait Detected: Royal Lineage (Sun-King Dynasty).]
[Status: Dormant. Evolution Required.]
She had suspected it since his first evolution. The gold fur, the metal manipulation, the commanding aura that forced other beasts to submit—these were not random mutations. Kael was not a mongrel. He was the lost scion of a bloodline the Guild had hunted to extinction a century ago. If he knew the truth now, the weight of a dead kingdom would crush him before he was ready to carry it. Or worse, he would charge into the Guild headquarters alone to avenge a family he never knew.
"Strength is not currency in this city, Kael. Status is," Valeria said, choosing her words carefully. "If I introduced you as Kael, the strongest gladiator in the Empire, the Emperor would have seen a slave. A valuable slave, perhaps, but property. Property does not have rights. Property cannot testify. Property can be seized by the Guild under the 'Lost Assets' clause."
She reached across the small space and placed her hand over his clenched fist.
"But a Prince? A Prince is a dignitary. Even if the kingdom is a myth to them, the title grants you personhood. Imperial Law forbids the enslavement of foreign royalty. By calling you a Prince in front of the court, I forced the Emperor to categorize you as a guest, not an object. It gives you diplomatic immunity."
Kael looked down at her hand. His expression softened slightly, though the doubt remained in his eyes.
"So it is a shield," Kael mused. "Made of words."
"Everything here is a shield made of words," Valeria said softly. "The Guild calls you a 'Beast' to strip you of humanity. I call you a 'Prince' to give it back. One day, you might find that the title fits better than you think. But for tonight, let it just be the lie that saves us."
Kael slowly unclenched his fist. He nodded, accepting the logic, if not the identity.
"I hate this city," Kael stated simply.
"Me too," Valeria agreed. "Let's burn it down and go home."
When they arrived at the Ironclad Estate, the atmosphere had shifted from dusty abandonment to organized paranoia. Ignis had not been idle while they were gone. The Dragon Strategist had used the gold Valeria provided to secure supplies, though he had clearly bullied the delivery men into silence.
The main hall was lit by a single, low-burning fire. The Duke of Ironclad sat in a high-backed chair near the hearth, wrapped in a heavy blanket. He looked pale, the silver scars of the healed curse standing out starkly against his grey skin, but he was upright. He held a glass of dark red wine in a shaking hand.
"You are alive," the Duke wheezed as they entered. "I assume the Emperor was entertained?"
"He was," Valeria said, stripping off her gloves. "He has summoned Highmaster Garius for a private audit. But we bought time, not safety. Garius knows we have Varg. He knows the audit will destroy him if Varg testifies. He will attack tonight."
The Duke took a sip of wine. "Of course he will. Garius is a cornered rat. And rats bite."
"We need to fortify," Kael said, pacing the room. "The windows are weak. The gate is rusted. If they bring a ram, they will be inside in minutes."
"They won't bring a ram," the Duke said softly. "Not in the Noble District. It is too loud. They will bring assassins. Shadows. Silence."
He gestured to the mantelpiece above the fire.
"Ignis, hand me the black box."
Ignis retrieved a small, heavy box made of black iron. He handed it to the Duke.
The Duke opened it. Inside lay a single, multifaceted crystal that pulsed with a dull blue light.
"This estate was built by my grandfather," the Duke explained. "He was paranoid. He installed the Aegis Grid. It is a mana-shield integrated into the foundation of the house. It blocks teleportation, intangibility, and shadow-walking."
He looked at the crystal. "But it requires a massive mana source to activate. My core is drained. I cannot power it."
Valeria looked at Ignis. The Dragon shook his head. "My reserves are low from the resonance cannon. I can perhaps power it for ten minutes."
"I can do it," a voice chirped from the shadows of the rafters.
Lucian dropped down, landing lightly on the rug. The Phoenix boy looked tired, but his eyes were bright.
"I am a walking mana battery," Lucian said, tapping his chest. "My Phoenix lineage regenerates mana faster than any other species. If I link to the crystal, I can hold the shield."
"It will hurt," the Duke warned. "The Aegis pulls hard. It will feel like bleeding."
"I have bled before," Lucian said with a shrug. "Usually for no reason. This is for a good reason."
Valeria looked at the boy who used to be afraid of his own shadow.
"Do it," she said. "But if you feel your core destabilizing, you let go. I won't trade one life for another."
Lucian took the crystal. He sat cross-legged on the floor. He closed his eyes and gasped as the connection snapped into place.
A low hum vibrated through the floorboards. The air in the room grew heavy. Outside, a shimmering blue dome flickered into existence over the estate, invisible to the naked eye but blinding to anyone with magical sight.
"The shield is up," Lucian whispered, sweat beading on his forehead. "Nothing gets in without walking through the front door."
"Good," Kael said, drawing his sword. "I like front doors. They are narrow."
Valeria left the defense to the soldiers and went to the cellar.
It was damp, cold, and smelled of earth. In the center of the room, chained to a support pillar, sat Commander Varg.
The paralysis from the needle was wearing off. He could move his head now, and his fingers twitched with returning sensation. When Valeria entered, he looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a hate so pure it felt toxic.
"Lady Valeria," Varg rasped. His voice was thick, his tongue still clumsy. "Did you enjoy your party?"
"It was lovely," Valeria said, pulling up a crate to sit across from him. "The Emperor was very interested in your career. He wants to hear all about the unauthorized necromancy."
Varg laughed. It was a wet, hacking sound.
"You think the Emperor cares?" Varg sneered. "The Emperor cares about taxes and stability. The Guild provides both. Lysandra will pay a fine. Garius will offer a scapegoat. And the wheel will keep turning. But you... you have broken the rules."
"I am rewriting them," Valeria said.
She leaned forward. "Here is the situation, Varg. In about an hour, your friends are going to attack this house. They aren't coming to rescue you. They are coming to silence you. You are a loose end. A liability."
Varg's smile faltered for a second.
"They wouldn't," he muttered. "I am a Commander. I am valuable."
"You were valuable when you were the Houndmaster," Valeria corrected. "Now? You are a paralyzed cripple sitting in the enemy's basement with a head full of secrets. If I were Garius, I would burn this house to the ground just to make sure you never spoke."
She saw the doubt creep into his eyes. Varg was a pragmatist. He knew how the Guild operated because he had done the exact same thing to others.
"What do you want?" Varg hissed.
"I want the ledger," Valeria said. "Not the generic one we stole from the mine. I want the Black Ledger. The one that lists the bribes to the Royal Council. The one that tracks the illegal export of beastmen to foreign gladiator pits."
Varg stayed silent.
"If you give me the location of the Ledger," Valeria said, "I will ensure you live to stand trial. You will go to prison, yes. But you will be alive. And you will be safe from Garius."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I leave you down here," Valeria stood up. "And when the Guild assassins burn the house... I won't look back."
Varg stared at her. He tested his chains. They were solid iron. He couldn't break them in his weakened state.
"It is in the Crypt," Varg whispered.
Valeria paused. "Which crypt?"
"The Temple of the Silent Saint," Varg said, defeated. "In the catacombs beneath the city. Garius keeps the archives there because the priests are sworn to silence. Sector 4, Vault 9."
Valeria smiled. "Thank you, Commander."
She turned to leave.
"Valeria!" Varg shouted after her. "They are coming! The Black Legion doesn't leave witnesses! You are dead! Do you hear me? You are all dead!"
Valeria closed the heavy oak door, muffling his screams.
She walked back upstairs. She had the location. Now she just needed to survive the night to use it.
Midnight struck with the tolling of the great bell in the city center.
The Ironclad Estate was dark. Every candle had been extinguished.
Kael stood in the entrance hall, just behind the reinforced double doors. Silas was perched on the chandelier, a crossbow aimed at the window. Ignis and Caspian were flanking the Duke, who sat in the center of the room holding a loaded pistol.
Valeria stood by the stairs, the Merchant's Monocle active.
"They are here," Lucian whispered from his meditative trance on the floor. "I feel them testing the shield. Shadows trying to slip through the cracks."
"Hold the line, Lucian," Valeria said. "Force them physical."
Outside, the air shimmered.
A dozen figures materialized on the lawn. They were clad in tight black leather that absorbed the moonlight. They wore masks of black steel.
[Target: Guild Assassin (Phantom Class).]
[Level: 30.]
[Abilities: Shadow Step, Poison Arts.]
They had tried to shadow-step into the house, but the Aegis Grid had rejected them, forcing them to materialize outside.
"The shield holds," one of the assassins signed to the others. "Breaching charges."
Three assassins ran to the front door. They slapped glowing red runes onto the wood.
"Cover!" Kael roared.
BOOM.
The front doors exploded inward. Splinters of oak and iron flew like shrapnel. Smoke billowed into the hall.
Through the smoke, the assassins surged. They moved like liquid, fast and silent.
But they were not fighting helpless nobles.
"Welcome to the jungle," Kael growled.
He stepped out of the smoke. He didn't use a sword. He used the massive oak door that had been blown off its hinges. He wielded it like a flyswatter.
He slammed the door into the first two assassins. The impact crunched bones and sent them flying back out onto the steps.
"Silas! Now!" Valeria shouted.
Silas dropped from the chandelier. He fired his crossbow mid-fall. The bolt took an assassin in the shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Silas landed on another, his claws flashing.
The hall erupted into violence.
It was a brutal, close-quarters brawl. The assassins were fast, their daggers coated in virulent poison. But Kael was an unstoppable force. His metal skin deflected the glancing blows, and his strength was overwhelming. He grabbed an assassin by the leg and used him as a club to hit another.
Caspian joined the fray. He didn't have water to manipulate, but he had something else. He had a bucket of Liquid Fire prepared by Ignis.
"Hot soup!" Caspian yelled, throwing the contents of the bucket.
The chemical mixture hit the cluster of assassins near the door. Ignis snapped his fingers. A spark flew.
WHOOSH.
The entrance became an inferno. The assassins screamed as the sticky fire clung to their armor. They retreated, rolling on the lawn to extinguish the flames.
"First wave repelled!" Kael shouted, kicking a burning assassin out the door.
"Don't celebrate," the Duke warned, reloading his pistol. "That was the probe. Now comes the hammer."
As the fire at the door died down, a new sound emerged from the street.
It was the heavy, rhythmic thud of armored boots.
Valeria walked to the shattered doorway, careful to stay in cover. She looked out past the burning lawn.
Marching down the street was a phalanx of soldiers in black plate armor. They carried tower shields and heavy halberds. There were at least fifty of them.
And leading them was a figure Valeria recognized. Not Lysandra. Not Garius.
It was a man in golden armor, wielding a massive greatsword that glowed with holy light.
[Target: Lord Commander Titus.]
[Leader of the Imperial Palace Guard.]
"The Palace Guard?" Valeria whispered, confused. "Why are they here?"
Titus stopped at the gate. He raised his sword.
"By order of the Emperor!" Titus bellowed. "This estate is under lockdown! Surrender the fugitive Varg, or be declared enemies of the state!"
Valeria looked at the Duke.
"The Guild got to the Emperor," the Duke said, his face grey. "Or they bribed the Commander. Either way, we cannot fight the Imperial Guard. That is treason."
"If we surrender Varg, we lose," Ignis hissed.
"And if we fight Titus, we die," Kael added.
Valeria looked at the Golden Commander. She looked at her exhausted family.
She needed a third option.
"Open the gate," Valeria said.
"What?" Kael stared at her.
"Open the gate," Valeria repeated, stepping out onto the porch. She raised her hands, showing the Ironclad Ring.
"Lord Commander!" Valeria shouted. "We surrender the prisoner! But we surrender him only to you! Not the Guild!"
Titus looked at her. He looked at the dead Guild assassins littering the lawn. He signaled his men to hold.
"Bring him out," Titus ordered.
Valeria turned to Kael. "Get Varg."
"Valeria," Kael whispered urgently. "If Titus takes him, Garius will intercept the transport. Varg will never make it to the cell."
"I know," Valeria whispered back. "That is why Varg is not going to be in the transport."
She grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled a note. She pressed it into Kael's hand.
"Put this in Varg's pocket. And when you bring him up... make sure he is unconscious."
Kael looked at the note. He looked at Valeria's eyes. He saw the desperation and the calculation.
He nodded and ran to the cellar.
Valeria stood on the porch, facing the Imperial Army. She was about to lose her witness. But she had gained the location of the Black Ledger. The game had changed. They didn't need a witness anymore. They needed a heist.