Chapter 170. Celebrity

"—which brings the total recovered artifacts to forty-seven, with preliminary analysis suggesting six of them retain active enchantments," Magus Keltis concluded, setting down his report with a satisfied air.

The soft click-click-click of knitting needles provided a steady counterpoint to his words. Beth sat in her chair with a half-finished shawl draped across her lap, fingers working the yarn with precision while her pale eyes remained fixed on some point beyond the chamber walls. Nobody seemed to care that the Empire's premier diviner was treating a formal council meeting like her personal sitting room.

"Excellent work, Magus Keltis," Gaius said from the head of the table. "Your cataloguing efforts continue to prove invaluable. The Treasury will be pleased to hear we've recovered so many intact pieces."

Click-click-click.

Keltis nodded gravely. "The smuggling networks appear to be more sophisticated than we initially assessed. Several of the artifacts show signs of recent magical tampering, suggesting they've been in circulation for months rather than years."

"Disturbing, but not unexpected," Xerion observed. "Black market enchanters rarely resist the temptation to 'improve' their merchandise."

Thorne rumbled agreement from his oversized chair. "Half the rogue mages we capture these days learned their trade by experimenting on stolen artifacts. It's like giving children explosive toys and wondering why they keep losing fingers."

The knitting needles paused for just a moment, then resumed their rhythm.

When Adom glanced toward Beth, she caught his eye and winked. The gesture was so quick and unexpectedly grandmotherly that he had to bite back a smile. She returned to her knitting as if nothing had happened, but there was the faintest hint of amusement playing around her mouth.

"Any remaining reports?" Gaius asked, his gaze sweeping the assembled magi.

Silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the steady ticking of the grandfather clock and the soft whisper of yarn through Beth's fingers.

"Very well then." The archmage gathered his papers. "Thank you all for your diligent work this month. The Empire's continued prosperity rests on efforts such as these, and I want each of you to know that your contributions are both noted and appreciated."

Chairs scraped against stone as the magi began to rise. Conversations started to form—Kyrian asking Corvus about some alchemical compound, Thorne making plans to compare notes with Xerion about northern border defenses.

"Magus Sylla," Gaius said quietly, not looking up from his papers. "If you could remain behind for a moment, please."

Adom settled back into his chair as the others filed out. Beth was the last to leave, tucking her knitting into a small bag.

The great doors closed with their familiar grinding sound, leaving Adom alone with the archmage in the suddenly cavernous chamber.

Gaius let out a deep sigh as the doors closed, the sound echoing in the suddenly empty chamber. He reached into his robes and withdrew an ornate pipe, the bowl carved from what looked like black drakebone.

A section of the wall slid open with a soft whisper of stone against stone. Inside the hidden compartment, magical flames flickered to life beneath a copper kettle. Teacups arranged themselves on a silver tray with delicate precision, while small pastries appeared on tiered stands like they'd been waiting for exactly this moment.

"I am so bloody tired of these meetings," Gaius muttered, raising the pipe to his lips. He clicked his fingers, and tiny golden sparks jumped from his fingertips to the pipe's bowl. Sweet smoke began to curl upward. "Sunleaf," he said, taking a long draw. "Good for the nerves. Clears the mind."

"I know," Adom said. "Used to smoke it from time to time back in the day. Good stuff."

"Hmm." Gaius settled back in his chair, pipe clenched between his teeth. "Being Archmage is exhausting, you know. All these reports, all these meetings, all these people expecting me to have answers for everything." He glanced at Adom through the sweet-smelling smoke. "You might find yourself smoking this often when you get the chair."

Adom chuckled. "I'm not in a hurry."

The water in the kettle began to bubble. Steam rose and coalesced into a thin stream that poured itself into the waiting teacups. The liquid was pale amber, and the aroma drifted across the chamber.

Adom picked up one of the cups and inhaled. "Silver Mountain blend."

Gaius stared at him. "I like tea well enough, but I absolutely do not know how you manage to identify every blend I've never seen you drink before."

"Same way you know the names of every variety of sunleaf from here to the Eastern Kingdoms," Adom replied with a grin.

They both laughed, the sound warm and comfortable in the vast chamber.

As the laughter died down, Gaius's expression grew serious. He took another draw from his pipe, the sunleaf smoke curling around his weathered features.

"How did the mission go?" he asked quietly.

Adom set his teacup down on the table with a soft clink. Time to get serious it seems. "I found her."

"Go on."

"She has been building her strength, yes, but not for conquest." Adom leaned forward slightly. "She confirmed it to me, sir. Her uncle was behind the massacre. She watched it all happen through a scrying crystal." Gaius remained silent. Listening. "We agreed that if we can find proof of what actually happened fifteen years ago, she'll bring the case to court instead of pursuing more direct methods of justice."

Gaius was quiet for a long moment, pipe smoke drifting between them. His fingers drummed once against the arm of his chair.

"Proof," he said finally. "What kind of proof?"

"The scrying system at her father's estate. If the transmission runes were modified properly, we could recover magical imprints of what really happened that night."

The Archmage nodded slowly, his eyes distant. "And if this proof exists, it would be at Castle White. Where the Emperor's cousin currently resides."

"That's right. The castle was rebuilt on the same site. The foundation stones with the original runic framework should still be there."

Gaius took another draw from his pipe. "Could you retrieve it?"

Adom considered this. "I'd have to go there to see. Castle White isn't exactly open to casual visitors, and I'd need to locate the original runic framework without being detected."

The Archmage nodded slowly, his eyes distant. "And her... capabilities? Her suitability for what we discussed?"

"She has an army, Gaius. A real one. Professional soldiers, competent mages, a fleet of ships, and a fortress that's been hidden from imperial intelligence for years." Adom paused. "She's not the broken exile we expected to find. She's a legitimate military leader with the resources to back her claims."

"How many?"

"Several thousand, from what I could see. Well-trained, well-equipped, and absolutely loyal to her."

Gaius took another draw from his pipe. "And if we could prove her claims about Soren? Prove the official story was false?"

"Then we'd have a legitimate heir with both the legal standing and military capacity to challenge the current Emperor. Someone with actual grievances rather than mere ambition."

The Archmage was pensive for a long moment. "These scrying crystals she mentioned. Could you retrieve them?"

"I'd have to go to Castle White to see. Where Soren currently resides."

Gaius set his pipe down and leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. "We'll make it happen."

"Make what happen?"

"Your trip to Castle White. I'll arrange everything—documents, cover story, whatever you need to get inside." The Archmage's eyes had taken on that calculating look Adom recognized from their discussions about particularly thorny problems. "Once you're there, you can locate the runic framework and extract whatever's stored in those transmission runes."

Adom raised his eyebrows. "Just like that?"

"Well, not just like that. It'll take some preparation. Lord Aldric isn't exactly known for his hospitality, and Castle White has more security than a dragon's hoard." Gaius picked up his pipe and took a thoughtful puff. "But yes. We'll make it work."

"And after that?"

"After that, the fate of the empire will be changed forever."

Adom nodded slowly. The plan made sense, even if the execution would be tricky. "Alright. I'm in."

"Good. I'll need a few days to arrange the necessary preparations. Stay on standby until then—don't go wandering off on any other missions." Gaius's mouth quirked upward. "I know how you tend to collect interesting side quests."

"Hey, those just happen to me. I don't go looking for them."

"Of course you don't."

Adom finished his tea and set the cup down. "Thank you for the Silver Mountain blend. And for trusting me with this."

"You've earned the trust." Gaius waved a hand dismissively. "Now get out of here. I have arrangements to make."

Adom stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the stone floor. He was halfway to the door when Gaius spoke again.

"Magus Sylla."

He turned. "Yes?"

"I seem to recall you mentioning an interest in learning all branches of magic. Is that still accurate?"

Adom paused, one hand on the door handle. "That was more of a... philosophical statement. Something I said just to say it, you know? I mean, I didn't think I'd live long enough for something like that to be realistic."

Gaius chuckled, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You're already among the magi at nineteen, Adom. Youngest in the Empire's history. Learning multiple disciplines isn't as far-fetched as you might think."

"I suppose not, but—"

"Besides, Beth seems interested in teaching you."

Adom blinked. "Beth said that?"

Gaius's chuckle transformed into outright laughter. "She's been subtly mentioning it for weeks now. Never directly, mind you—that's not her way. But she talks about you quite a bit. Says she'd like to teach you divination."

"That would make her my..." Adom trailed off, processing the implications.

"Master? Sure, in a sense, yes." Gaius's expression grew more serious. "Which is strange in itself. Beth has never taken an apprentice. Not once in all the years I've known her. Especially not a mage who isn't even versed in divination basics."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying if she's expressing interest, I'd be curious to know why. The woman who can see the future thinks you're worth her time." Gaius took a puff out of his pipe again. "If I were you, I'd want to find out what she sees."

"I'll... talk to her. Later."

"She takes walks in Law's Park every evening at sunset. Northeast corner, by the fountain with Law's statue." Gaius took a long draw from his pipe, then began to exhale slowly. The smoke didn't dissipate—instead, it held its shape, coiling and twisting until it formed a perfect sailing ship, complete with billowing sails and tiny rigging details. The ethereal vessel drifted across the chamber before finally dissolving into wisps.

"That's cool," Adom said.

Gaius grinned. "Took practice. A lot of it."

"Should I pretend it's a coincidence when I see Beth?"

"God, no. She'd know anyway." The Archmage waved his pipe dismissively. "Might as well be honest about it."

Adom nodded, filing the information away. "Understood."

"Good. Now go. I have a very complicated infiltration to plan."

Adom pulled the great doors closed behind him, the grinding sound echoing down the corridor. Two days since he'd returned from his mission to find Morgana, and he was still processing everything that had happened.

His boots clicked against the polished stone as he made his way through the new Magisterium's halls. A few mages hurried past, arms full of scrolls and looking harried. Standard Tuesday afternoon energy.

His comm crystal pulsed against his chest.

Adom pulled it out and activated the connection. "Yes, Valiant."

"Hey Ado— wait, how did you know it was me?"

"There are only two people who call me on this crystal. You and Cass. Cass never calls at this hour."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Should I maybe have fixed hours? Would that make me seem more professional? Like, set business hours for emergencies and—"

"If it's not actually important, yes."

"But it's always important!"

Adom sighed. "You called me at two in the morning once to rant about a female mouse beastkin who broke your heart. You spent forty-five minutes explaining how her whiskers twitched differently when she lied."

"That was— look, she was really manipulative, okay? And I was going through a rough patch—"

"Valiant."

"—and honestly, the whisker thing was genuinely fascinating from my standpoint—"

"Valiant."

"Right, right. Sorry." The crystal crackled slightly. "You received a message. From some guys from Silvandros."

Adom stopped walking. "I'll be right there."

The afternoon sun hit his face as he stepped out into the streets of Arkhos. He pulled his pointed hat down low, adjusting the brim to cast shadow over his features.

The city hummed with its usual energy. Street vendors called out their wares, fresh bread, roasted nuts, little trinkets that probably didn't do what they claimed to do.

Oh, and there were at least 20 new Old Mary meat pie stands all over the city now. The thing had become the defining symbol of Arkhos’s food culture.

Children darted between the legs of adults, playing some complicated game that involved a lot of shouting and seemed to have no discernible rules.

Oh?

Actually, on closer inspection, it did have rules: they were playing mages.

"I'm Adom!" one boy declared, pointing a stick at his friends. "Lightning bolt!"

"No, I'm Adom!" another protested. "You were Adom yesterday!"

Adom noticed the second boy had painted a white streak down the front of his dark hair, a crude imitation of his own distinctive marking. The kid had probably spent his allowance on hair paint just to look the part.

"You can't both be Adom," the girl among them said. "There's only one Adom."

"Then I'll be Gaius," the first boy said sulkily.

"Nobody wants to be Gaius. He's old."

A few adults stopped to watch the argument unfold, smiling at the intensity of the debate. One woman crouched down to the children's level.

"You can all be Adom," she said diplomatically. "There's nothing wrong with having more than one celebrity in a game."

"But then who's the villain?" the girl asked, clearly having given this serious thought.

"We'll figure it out," the woman said. "Maybe you can take turns."

A group of musicians had set up near the fountain, their lively tune adding to the general cheerful chaos.

Adom chuckled softly, pulling his hat down a little further. He should probably avoid walking through areas where children congregated. His ego was already inflated enough without hearing six-year-olds argue over who got to pretend to be him. The painted hair streak was particularly mortifying, when had he become the kind of person kids wanted to imitate?

He inhaled the purified air of Arkhos deeply.

This was exactly what he wanted.

Peace. Normality. The kind of everyday life that most people took for granted.

But as Adom walked slowly, the same thought of peace made his mind churn through the implications of what he and Gaius had discussed. How was he supposed to tell his father about Morgana? About what had really happened to General Soren?

Arthur had been Soren's apprentice. The man had knighted him, shaped his entire military career, probably saved his life a dozen times over. Learning that his mentor had been murdered by the Emperor—that everything Arthur had believed about duty and loyalty had been built on a lie—would destroy him.

Should he wait until after they retrieved the proof? Or tell him now, before the mission to Castle White? Either way felt wrong. Either way would tear his father's world apart.

And if Arthur rebelled against the Emperor, he wouldn't do it alone. The Iron Wolves still followed their ex-commander absolutely. They'd march with him into hell if he asked them to. Retired or not, Arthur's word still carried weight with the regiment.

Was there a peaceful way out of this mess? Some path that didn't end with his father choosing between his honor and his oaths?

A mother scolded her son for running too close to the horse traffic. The boy looked appropriately shamefaced for about three seconds before darting off to rejoin his friends. Life continuing as it always had, blissfully unaware that everything might be about to change.

Suddenly, a pressure hit Adom's stomach like a punch.

Sharp. Sudden. Actually painful, which was impressive considering how much punishment his body could absorb these days. [Primordial Body] had made him tough enough to shrug off most—

Warmth spread across his shirt. Just a little. The blade–because it was a blade– hadn't gone deep enough to do real damage, but it had definitely drawn blood.

Adom looked down.

A man stood very close to him, close enough that their conversation would look casual to anyone passing by. The dagger in his hand was pressed against Adom's stomach, though not with enough force to penetrate further. His eyes were wide with something that might have been surprise.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Huh," Adom said conversationally. "That didn't work out the way you expected, did it?"

The man tried to step back, probably planning to disappear into the crowd.

Adom's hand closed around his wrist like a steel trap.

"I wouldn't make a scene if I were you," he said quietly, his voice carrying just enough edge to make his point clear. "You failed. So you can follow me silently and explain who sent you, or we can do this by force. Your choice."

The man's free hand darted toward his belt. Another dagger appeared, but instead of attacking again, he brought it toward his own arm—or maybe his throat. Adom wasn't entirely sure which.

Either way, that wasn't happening.

BAM.

His fist connected with the man's temple before the second blade could find its target. The would-be assassin's eyes rolled back and he went limp, both daggers clattering to the cobblestones.

Adom caught him before he could hit the ground, then discretely weaved [Levitation]. To anyone watching, it would look like the man was just standing there, maybe a little unsteady on his feet.

"Too much to drink," Adom said to a concerned-looking woman who'd noticed the man swaying. "I'll get him home."

She nodded sympathetically and continued on her way.

Adom adjusted his grip on the unconscious assassin's arm, making sure he looked stable enough to avoid drawing more attention. Then he glanced down at the man's sleeve, looking for any identifying marks or—

His blood went cold.

There, tattooed on the man's forearm in black ink, was a symbol he recognized. A staff crossed with a quill, surrounded by a circle of stars.

The Order's sigil.

His Order.