Chapter 544

Nick stepped out of the Tower, pulling his coat tight against the wind. The plaza bustled with students, merchants, and armored guards.

Given Tholm’s wink, he had passed the Exam. The Archmages had no further grounds to deny his advancement.

That meant he was finally free to take care of his own business.

He wanted nothing to do with the crowds today, so he activated the Stillness.

The next moment, he became a void, a gap in reality the eye slid past, and the mind refused to acknowledge. Walking among people like this required a more delicate balance than he expected, as he had to suppress his innate desire to impose his reality on the World, but doing so would have made him more noticeable to those with spiritual senses.

He forced his mana inward, creating a contained vacuum of perception until the air around him felt utterly detached, and he could move unseen through the throngs of people. A pair of guards marched right past him, their eyes sliding over him without registering his presence.

Nick walked through Alluria unmolested. The beautiful buildings and manicured gardens of the upper districts gave way to the cramped, leaning timber and rough-hewn stone of the undercity. The ambient noise shifted from a polite murmur to the working-class chaos.

Carts rattled over uneven cobblestones. Blacksmiths hammered hot iron at open-air forges, and merchants hawked their wares, shouting without care.

He took it all in as he navigated the pathways toward the northern docks, looking for a sagging wooden door wedged between a defunct warehouse and a brothel. Once he found it, he slipped past the bouncer on the stoop, timing his move to the door's swing as a patron stumbled out into the street.

Inside, the tavern hummed with low conversation and the clink of tankards, despite the hour. Nick let the Stillness loosen its grip on him in a dark corner, then materialized in the shadows and approached the counter. The barkeep wiped the wooden counter with a dirty rag and glanced up to assess the newcomer, recognition lighting his eyes.

Nick flicked a silver coin onto the counter. The metal spun, then settled gently before him.

The man snatched the silver, pocketing it with a swift motion, and nodded toward a nondescript back door.

With a nod of thanks, Nick stepped through the frame. A narrow flight of stone stairs plunged downward, ending in the damp expanse of the ancient sewer system.

He walked through the decommissioned tunnels as water dripped from the curved brick ceiling, splashing into the dark channels alongside the walkway. His passage echoed loudly, but he made no effort to hide it from the invisible guards.

They knew who he was, and who he sought.

He trailed his fingers along the wall, feeling the slick moss and the ancient mortar holding Alluria's foundation together, the pulse of ancient magic stirring at his touch before retreating once it deemed him no threat.

Not that they ever seem to come alive, even with all the messes that have been going on. Though then again, no one was ever foolish enough to mount a frontal attack from outside, and that is what they were built to face, no matter how many modifications later generations tried to apply.

It was very dark, but his senses mapped the tunnels with perfect clarity, and soon he reached a familiar vaulted chamber. Months ago, he and Devon had fought Elias Hone’s mages in this very room, battling through a desperate ambush. The space now served a very different master.

Three overlapping layers of high-tier privacy glamours shimmered in the ether, distorting both sound and scrying attempts. Nick even heard the metallic scrape of a crossbow mechanism shifting on a ledge fifty yards down the tunnel.

The guards were alert, their weapons trained on the approach, though they didn’t fire.

It wouldn’t have done much of anything anyway. Their arms were finely enchanted, but they could only do so much against a trained mage, let alone a Prestige one.

They are mostly there to keep catspaws and rivals from muscling in, then. I guess not everyone liked One-Ear taking over a good chunk of the underworld, or perhaps a few of the old leaders escaped the Duke’s purges and have been testing his hold.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Amused by the kind of trouble his acquaintance was likely in, Nick knocked on the warded door three times in a specific sequence.

The deadbolts scraped back with a loud clatter, and the door swung open.

More had changed since he last been here. Intricately woven rugs in deep crimson and gold covered the cracked stone floor, muffling footfalls. Stained-glass lamps cast a warm light across the walls, illuminating a desk carved from a single trunk, stacked high with ledgers and papers.

A man sat behind the desk, shuffling a deck of worn playing cards with nimble fingers. He had a remarkably plain face, the kind of features that slipped from memory the moment someone looked away, though a wide-brimmed hat tilted rakishly to the left, concealing the stump of his missing ear, somewhat undid that effect.

A new monocle rested over his right eye. Tiny thaumaturgic inscriptions etched the frame, humming with subtle magic designed to detect all sorts of trails left by passing souls.

Compared with the last time he’d seen his favorite information broker, One-Ear had clearly done well for himself.

More and better-armed men, wealth on display, and superior equipment for himself. Yes, in the aftermath of the Incursion and the faith skirmishings, there had been many opportunities, but to his credit, he’d preferred consolidating and growing rather than reaching too far and getting burned.

"I told the boys on the roofs to warn me if anyone came from the Tower," One-Ear said, his voice a smooth drawl. “But I only got word when you reached the tavern. It seems your tricks keep getting better.”

The door shut behind Nick, and privacy wards sealed the room, cutting it off from the outside world.

“I would have been very surprised if they’d noticed me,” Nick said with a faint smile, pulling out a chair and sitting across from the broker.

One-Ear set the deck down, leaned back, and studied Nick. "Word on the street is that a young prodigy dared to challenge the Grandmaster of the Sword. Half the betting parlors in the undercity went bankrupt when you walked out of the arena with your head still attached to your neck. Congratulations on crossing the boundary, my friend. Prestige looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Nick murmured, unsurprised that he already knew. It had been quite a loud affair, after all.

One-Ear snorted and reached into his vest pocket. He withdrew a tarnished copper coin and tossed it across the desk. It landed in front of Nick, a grinning skull stamped into the metal, the craftsmanship old and worn.

"Keep that close," he advised. "I work in Alluria, even if I have agents elsewhere. Siderea is a different beast entirely. When you get there, flash that coin in the right circles. It should grant you access to my mentor's network, if he hasn’t gotten himself killed since I last heard of him. You will need them to navigate the currents.”

Without asking how he knew his next stop, Nick vanished the coin into his spatial ring.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he replied. “Though I’d still like to hear about the capital’s layout and what you know of the Royal Court. Even an overview would be more than I have now.”

As he spoke, a pouch appeared on the desk where the coin had been, clinking with gold. One-Ear reached for it, weighed it in his hand, and nodded in satisfaction.

It was a bit more than he could comfortably give, but soon enough he’d be a Mage Errant, entitled to a full stipend. He also didn’t doubt he’d harvest more monsters before he reached Siderea. His luck wasn’t good enough to get there unmolested, even if the inner lands were supposed to be safer.

“As you might know, it is a dangerous place," One-Ear murmured, vanishing the pouch into his own spatial artifact, a medallion at his neck, which once again showed how much he’d expanded his business, for such things weren’t easy to find on the market. "Every smiling lord hides a dagger behind his back, and they pour wine laced with poison for their dearest friends. The city houses the kingdom's elite academies, the Royal Palace, and the most powerful noble houses. Various merchant houses, among whom is the Valerius Consortium, control most of the wealth.”

He even knows about that? He must have placed several agents in Floria, then. I guess it’s not so surprising. It is the fastest-growing settlement in the west, and he has a vested interest in me. I’ll have to caution him, though.

One-Ear leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But what I think will serve you best is to understand the nature of power there. In the capital, System integrity is rigid. Stagnant. Class ceremonies yield expected classes. A swordsman's son becomes a swordsman. A merchant's daughter becomes a trader. The world aligns with the established order. Anomalies like you are rare, and they are hunted or leashed the moment they surface, unless they grow strong enough to be absorbed into the whole and made into the new normal.”

Nick hummed. The rigidity made sense because the capital was the seat of human authority. The collective belief of millions living under strict hierarchies would, for the most part, be enough to force the System to conform to their expectations. It was an environment hostile to disruption, even without active meddling.

And from his ancestor’s fate, he knew there was much of that to go around.

"The King is, of course, the most powerful man in Berea," One-Ear continued, tapping a finger on the desk. "His overarching prerogative is to preserve the balance of power. His administration is, therefore, deeply paranoid. He keeps a watchful eye on any faction or house that grows too independent. Your family's rise in Floria, coupled with your display in the arena, has undoubtedly caught his attention, and he’ll test you many times before he lets you leave, sometimes directly, other times not so much. But make no mistake, they’ll be tests all the same.”

"Give me names," Nick requested. He already knew as much.

"Prime Minister Moriatus has held the King's ear for two decades," One-Ear listed, holding up a finger. “He also controls the treasury and, through it, the various merchants. They fund the standing armies, build the roads, and hold the debts of half the minor nobility. Minister Thorne oversees the Royal Service, the polite term for spies that aren’t the Shadows. Assume his agents are everywhere, watching every tavern and guildhall. High General Sterling commands the armies in the King’s name, though some say he’s on the way out. As Minister of Supplies, Lady Thulen controls the trade lines. There are many more, but these are the ones with real influence over our good King.”

Nick stayed quiet, knowing One-Ear was getting to the point.

"As for power, you will find the likes of Grandmasters and Archmages there. First Spear Hotter of the Royal Guard is an Ascended who has never lost a duel. Royal Arcanist Silas commands the Mage Corps. Both avoid politics for the most part, but they are extremely dangerous in their own right.”

A beat, and he sighed. “And of course, there are the princes and princesses. They are by far the most dangerous to you, as they’ll try to draw you into their sphere, if only to deny you to their siblings and to hope to gain their father’s approval.”

“Are they likely to be a problem?”

“Not directly, though I know several of them reached Prestige, if with help. But making an enemy of anyone in the Royal Family will make your life difficult.”

They continued talking, but it soon became clear he would need to visit One-Ear’s mentor to learn more specifics.

The following morning, the summons arrived, ordering him to present himself before the Tower Master.