Cane laughed, watching Clara slump forward, her head resting dramatically on the table as she moaned in misery.
"You're my friends… Why didn't you stop me?… It hurts... I'm dying…"
Sophie reached over, placing a gentle hand on Clara's shoulder. "That's too bad. I saw the staff made those frozen lemon desserts you love so much."
Clara's head shot up, her expression instantly alert. "They made Lemon Frosties?"
Sophie smiled sweetly. "You can always give yours to someone else."
"What? I can't insult the staff like that." Clara shook her head solemnly. "No, I need to show my support and gratitude for their impressive effort."
Fergis rolled his eyes. "Way to sacrifice."
"So brave," Cane added with mock solemnity.
"Thank you, my friends," Clara replied earnestly, completely missing the sarcasm. "Your support means everything."
Before anyone could respond, Relen approached, guiding the elegant woman who had been seated at Melina's table.
"Young Master," he said, bowing slightly. "May I present my wife, Pricilla."
Cane stood quickly, offering a respectful nod. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"And you, Sir." Pricilla's voice was graceful, with a quiet confidence. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders, and her simple blue dress seemed effortlessly refined. "We love the cottage. I wanted to thank you in person for inviting us."
"Relen is my right hand—an invaluable part of keeping this estate running. You are both welcome here anytime. And if anything ever comes up, feel free to speak with me directly."
Pricilla smiled warmly. "Thank you, Sir. That means a great deal."
Cane was about to respond when something caught his attention—just a flicker in the corner of his vision, gone almost as fast. He tapped the rune behind his ear.
Cane: Dhalia, is there a raven close?
Dhalia, already alert, activated her bracer. Her brown eyes went pitch black as her senses expanded outward like ripples on water.
Dhalia: On the roof. It's hiding.
Cane: Can you lock it?
Dhalia: Yes, but I need line of sight.
Cane reached up and traced the falconer rune on his neck. His vision shifted, turning amber-gold as he linked with Pudding, who soared far overhead. The estate snapped into view from above—every tile, shadow, and movement laid bare. There, just behind the peak of the roof, the raven crept toward the chimney.
"Attack my target," Cane whispered.
Pudding folded his wings, diving silently. The roof raced toward Cane's vision, and at the last moment, the falcon-owl hybrid braked, talons flashing. A blur of feathers—a cry—the raven flailed upward, startled.
Dhalia: I've got it. Didn't break the geas—it still wants to return to its perch.
Cane: Good. Let it. Pudding'll track from above.
His vision faded back to normal, and he grinned as he turned to the others at the table. "We'll look into it later."
Dinner wrapped up not long after. Cane quietly gave the word to Relen: the staff could stay and enjoy the celebration. The guests, for the most part, retired for the evening. But the warmth of the courtyard lingered—soft music, laughter, the hum of quiet pride.
Darkness settled over the estate as the group gathered in Cane's room. He sat quietly, eyes closed, communing with his falcon-owl hybrid.
"I marked the house—it's in the slums. No movement outside. The raven flew in through an open attic window."
Fergis was already sketching the layout of the surrounding buildings, though buildings felt generous.
"North edge of the block," he muttered. "Only standing structure nearby looks abandoned, but might have vagrants inside."
Cane glanced at Clara with a small smile. "What's our approach?"
"Huh?" Clara blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes bounced around the group before settling on Cane. "Well… I'd circle around the city and come through the south gate. Stick close to the wall, keep out of sight until we hit this alley here."
Cane nodded. "Dhalia?"
She leaned over the rough map. "Single or two-story?"
"Double," Fergis answered. "Besides the attic window, only one other—it's on the west side."
"Second door?"
"Yeah." He marked it with an X near the back.
"Then we cut off the escape routes," Dhalia said. "If we follow Clara's plan, we breach from the rear."
"Agreed." Cane tapped the map. "This abandoned building could hide an exit tunnel. Fergis, take it."
"I'll need five minutes to set up a surprise." Fergis grinned. "Something with teeth."
"Be careful," Cane said. "We don't know if they've placed defensive or alarm runes."
He tapped his falconer rune again. "Circle and observe."
Clara clapped her hands. "So… when are we going?"
"One hour," Cane replied. "Gear up. Meet out front."
Once the others filed out, Cane waited a beat.
"What do you think?" he asked softly.
Elohan appeared from the shadows, smirking as if he'd been there the whole time. "You're a natural leader. But—don't use lethal force."
"I wasn't planning to," Cane said. "Why the warning?"
"There's an element in the capital—call them a shadow network. They don't serve a faction but work for many. If someone gets hurt… there wouldn't be much blowback. But they may be more valuable alive than dead."
Cane frowned. "So what? Mercenaries? Spies?"
"Information, mostly. But yes, sometimes knives in the dark. I doubt they'd target you directly." Elohan's form shimmered, already fading. "Still… I'll be close."
—
An hour later, four cloaked figures exited the estate. The gate guard nodded them through without question. Once beyond sight, they veered from the road and disappeared into the night.
Cane activated his psi-rune.
Cane: Stealth here. We run to the south gate. Fergis enters the abandoned building; we'll hold in the alley.
Fergis: I'll need five minutes.
The moon lit their path, the cool light helping them keep pace without torches. They reached the gate quickly, slowed to a walk, and entered the slums. A sharp left took them along the wall's edge, where shadows were deepest.
Fergis split off, slipping into the darkness. At the door of the abandoned building, he paused. His hand hovered above the handle—then drew back.
Fergis: Trip geas on the door. It'll alert someone if I open it. Trying the window.
The shattered window was lined with jagged glass—unopenable. A faint pulse shimmered beneath the shards.
Fergis: Runed too. No go.
Cane: Try the roof. That place is crumbling.
Fergis leaped, hands catching the roof's edge. He hauled himself up silently. Near the peak, where the shingles had rotted through, he pried away pieces of loose wood and gently stacked them aside.
Moments later, he dropped to the floor inside.
Fergis: I'm in. Only the door and window were trapped. Rest is clean. Starting setup now.
The minutes ticked by. The trio crouched in the shadows, eyes fixed on the target building.
Cane: When we're ready—Clara, you seal the window. Dhalia, ice barrier on the back door.
Clara: Got it. Anything else?
Cane: Non-lethal force only. Snares and root spells on anyone breaking the perimeter.
Dhalia: And if they respond with lethal force?
Cane: Then we let them go. No bodies.
Fergis: All done… heading back now.
Cane: Bag and tag whoever we catch. No names. Keep talk to a minimum.
Fergis returned a few minutes later, brushing dust from his cloak.
Cane: Fergis, with me inside. Flash a flare.
Fergis: Got it—nice and bright, non-lethal. Ready.
Dhalia: I'm in position.
Clara: Same.
Cane: Seal the exits.
Cane synced with the ringworld—and moved.
He surged forward, slamming through the front door. It shattered like brittle glass.
Three figures were visible inside: one asleep near the back door, another reading by candlelight, the third facing Cane as he entered.
The masked figure at the door didn't even react before Cane struck, dropping them with a blow to the neck. He pivoted and slammed Starbolt into the floor, encasing the sleeping form in a sheath of glacial ice.
FIRE FLARE
A brilliant burst of light flooded the room. A fourth figure bolted for the back door, while the reader stepped into the corner—and vanished.
Cane: Two down inside.
Outside, Dhalia held her ground, smiling faintly as someone slammed uselessly against her reinforced ice wall.
Dhalia: Back door runner is unconscious. Bagging and tagging.
Cane restrained the two remaining targets, covering their heads with cloth sacks and securing their arms.
Fergis, already moving, sprinted toward the abandoned building. His runes had triggered.
He scaled the outer wall and slipped through the hole in the roof, dropping silently behind a trapped figure tangled in webbing. Without pause, he gagged and bound the struggling man, dragging him toward the door.
Cane blinked into view beside him, his sudden appearance startling even Fergis.
Outside, the clatter of wagon wheels echoed through the alley.
Elohan sat casually on the driver's bench. "Cargo pickup's here."
Cane laughed and grabbed the webbed figure, hauling him over. "You're not in danger," he said calmly to the captives. "Behave for a few minutes, and we'll talk."
The ride back to the estate passed in silence. At the stables, they offloaded the bound group and sat them in chairs beneath the lanterns.
Cane: Bags off.
Each team member removed a hood. Three men and one woman blinked against the light. They looked confused, but not panicked.
Cane stood before them, hand resting casually on his sword.
"Let's get to it. Who's in charge?"
Two of the captives glanced toward the man on the far right.
"You?" Cane stepped in front of him and removed the gag. "You sent a raven to watch my estate earlier. What's your purpose?"
The man was young—thirty at most—and had nearly escaped to the other building using some kind of movement artifact. He didn't deny the accusation but said nothing.
"Come on. We're being polite here. We're all cadets. If I tell Telamon, he'll get involved."
That hit home. Everyone knew the Archmage didn't need torture to get answers—he could simply pull secrets from minds, leaving people broken.
"We were observing you. Tracking your movements and habits," the man finally said.
Cane looked over to Fergis. "Recognize anyone?"
Fergis nodded, pointing at the speaker. "His name is Fraedi."
Fraedi's eyebrows shot up. "How would you…"
"Ten years ago," Fergis said. "When my brother was squired, you were standing in the back. An older woman called you by name."
Fraedi blinked. "You were just a kid."
"I was," Fergis said, smiling faintly.
Cane took a step forward. "You're going to remove us from your network. Starting today, I would like you to work for me."
That drew surprised looks—even from his team.
Fraedi stared. "Why would we do that?"
"You operate in the shadows. You whisper in the dark. And you never feel safe. I can offer two things: funding—which I'm sure you already have—and a safe haven."
"Safe haven?" Fraedi asked, wary but curious.
"I have access to a spatial dimension. You could build a headquarters, store information, hide people. Permanently."
"You think that's appealing?"
Cane nodded. "I believe the war's nearly over. When it ends, your work picks up again. Nobles will scheme, guilds will maneuver, and you'll be in the middle. Having a place to vanish might matter."
Fraedi considered. "We'll remove you from our dossiers. From this moment forward, you're off the record. As for the rest, we will consider it."
"Good enough," Cane replied.
"You're not going to push the safe haven offer?"
"No." Cane turned away. "You're free to go."
"Really?" Fraedi asked.
"Yes. My current situation doesn't require someone like you. In the future, that could change but understand… this offer has a time limit."