I woke up with a headache. Wine always did that to me. I don’t even like the stuff. I vaguely remembered Marlena’s family leaving late last night, and Marlena and I walking them out to the Tower’s entrance. She hugged her parents, lingering a moment as they boarded the carriage. We stood there for a while, watching the lights fade as it rolled down the path.

  With my arm around her shoulders, I walked her back inside. We were both exhausted.

  Now, groggy and still in my wrinkled nightclothes, I shuffled out of the bedroom and collapsed into the chair at the table. I dropped my face into my hands. Then I felt hands on my shoulders. Warm. Familiar. Working the tension in slow, practiced circles. Allira. Her shoulder rubs were basically magic.

  “Feeling better?” she asked, leaning in close beside me.

  “Yes. Always,” I mumbled through my hands. She giggled, soft and smug, and kept working. Her thumbs pushed deep into the knots under my shoulder blades, and I exhaled slowly, grateful.

  “What are you up to today, my dear?” I asked.

  “I’m heading to Sir Avelo’s class this afternoon. He’s running drills on advanced shield use.”

  I lifted my head slightly. “Mind if I watch?”

  She pressed her palm firmly into a knot and made me grunt. “Not at all. I’d love to have you there.”

  The three of us, Allira, Allyson, and I, walked from the Tower to the Mage’s Cathedral. It was a short trip through the marketplace, and for the first time since the rift invasion, I had the chance to take it in without urgency.

  Stalls lined the cobbled streets, vibrant with color and noise. Merchants called out their wares: spiced nuts, woven scarves, enchanted trinkets. People turned to stare as we passed. Allira walked beside me in full armor and crimson cape, unmistakable in her presence. Allyson flanked the other side, calm and sharp as always.

  Whispers followed us.

  “Is that him?”

  “Engineer…”

  Some voices carried reverence. Others, suspicion. No one got too close.

  I paused at a toy stall. The wooden figures were simple, hand-carved animals, little soldier sets, and mechanical puzzles, but the craftsmanship was solid. Something about it felt honest. I picked up a basic interlocking puzzle, paid the merchant without haggling, and offered a quiet thanks before rejoining the others.

  We arrived at the training grounds behind the Mage’s Cathedral. The space was wide and open, ringed with tiered seating. Noble families were already in the gallery, lounging on cushioned benches beneath silk-draped canopies.

  I chose the bleachers. No need for fanfare. I was here to support my general, not flaunt status.

  Allira stepped away from us and crossed the training ground. She didn’t look back, but I caught the proud lift of her chin and the ease in her stride. I wished her luck quietly.

  As the soldiers began their drills, I pulled out a mageScript tome and flipped it open across my lap. Between the clash of shields and barked orders, I let myself sink into the quiet puzzle of enchantment theory, half watching the field, half studying the layered intricacies of mana circuitry.

  I moved away from David and circled around the training area, heading toward the group of squires where Sir Avelo was instructing them on proper spear stance. His tone was firm and precise; he always spoke that way when training the young. As I drew nearer, the squires noticed me and quickly straightened, saluting in unison. I responded with a nod without hesitation.

  “Welcome, General,” Sir Avelo greeted me with a nod.

  “Thank you, Sir Avelo,” I replied. “I’m here for shield training, whenever you’re ready.”

  “Do you have your own shield, or will you be using a training one?” one of the squires asked, eyes flicking to my back.

  I reached under my cloak and pulled out my new medium shield, designed to match my orichalcum armor. It had smooth lines and a balanced weight. It still gleamed from the polish that David applied this morning.

  “This is a work of art,” Sir Avelo murmured. “May I?”

  I handed it over, and he turned it in his hands, nodding with visible approval. “Wonderful craftsmanship.”

  “A gift from my husband,” I said, tilting my chin slightly in David’s direction. He sat on the far side of the training ring beside Allyson, book open on his lap, but his eyes were on me.

  Sir Avelo handed the shield back with care. “Let’s begin, then,” he said, turning to the gathered soldiers and waving them into formation. “Time for shield training!”

  I took my place at the end of the first row, sliding the shield onto my left arm. The familiar weight settled instantly, grounding me.

  “Shields on your non-dominant arm!” Sir Avelo barked. “Get into position!”

  Everyone’s armor clanked and boots shuffled as they moved into position in the training circle. I rolled my shoulders once and tightened my grip on my shield and weapon.

  This was my element.

  I sat on the bleachers, reading the mageScript tome while Allira trained in the combat circle. The drills echoed in the distance—shield clashes, barked commands, and steady background noise to my quiet study. As I read, I copied specific diagrams and spellforms into my sketchbook, scribbling notes and jotting down questions I wanted to follow up on.

  “Allyson,” I said without looking up, “do we have any samples of mageScript in the Tower?”

  “Yes, Master,” she replied instantly. “There are several artifacts stored in the vault.”

  “Excellent. Could you bring a few up to my workshop? Preferably, a range from simple to complex.”

  “Yes, Master. I’ll see to it now.”

  Real, completed examples. I finally had the chance to examine the structure of applied mana circuitry closely, tear it apart, understand how it worked, and maybe even replicate it. But before I could return to the book, a voice interrupted.

  “Ah, Earl Robertson. What a surprise to find you here.”

  I looked up. Halden Sinthurk. He approached with two others an older man with the look of seasoned nobility, and a woman older than Halden, who seemed more observant than social. My Analysis skill flared the moment I looked at them, panels of text blooming above their heads. This thing was getting out of hand half the time it triggered when I didn’t want it to, but sometimes, like now, it handed me exactly the information I needed. It was interesting that representatives from all three families strolled together. Marlena told me that they were the major magical powerhouses in the kingdom.

  [Halden Sinthurk]

  Race: Human

  Status: None.

  Title: Royal Mage

  Age: 28

  Class: High Mage - Lvl 30 (Fire Affinity)

  [Lord Carthis Virelles]

  Race: Human

  Status: Married (Iris Virelles)

  Title: Royal Mage

  Age: 43

  Class: High Mage - Lvl 30 (Earth Affinity)

  [Aria Devanthes]

  Race: Human

  Status: None

  Title: Royal Mage

  Age: 34

  Class: High Mage - Lvl 30 (Air Affinity)

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Good afternoon, Halden,” I said, closing my sketchbook but keeping a finger inside to mark my place. “How are you today?” He gave a polite smile, his eyes flicking toward the training circle. Allira caught his attention instantly, her crimson cape flaring behind her as she shifted through a shield maneuver.

  “Ah,” he said, “I see your wife.”

  “Yes,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “I’m just the supportive husband today.”

  Halden offered a civil nod and leaned slightly toward the older man beside him, whispering something while gesturing subtly in Allira’s direction. The man didn’t smile, but he gave a slight nod in return. The woman said nothing, watching me intently. I turned back to my notes, giving them nothing more.

  A moment later, Halden straightened and said, “You have a good day, my lord.”

  I looked up just enough to meet his eyes. “Take care, Halden.”

  They moved on, fading into the crowd around the outer edge of the cathedral grounds. I stared at the page in front of me, but my mind wasn’t on the diagrams anymore. Why were those two with him?

  I stayed to watch Allira run shield drills throughout most of the afternoon. She never seemed to slow down. I honestly don’t know where she gets that kind of energy. I’ve woken up sore more mornings than I can count, usually thanks to her, and watching her train reminded me just how relentless she can be both in and out of her armor.

  When the session finally ended, I stood up from the bleachers and went around the training circle to meet her. She was wiping sweat from her forehead as I approached, and I handed her a towel from my satchel.

  “You hungry?” I asked. “We could grab a meal before heading home.”

  “Starving,” she said with a grin, still catching her breath.

  I stood off to the side while she thanked Sir Avelo for the instruction, which was formal yet friendly. Then we left the cathedral grounds and walked together toward the market. The moment we crossed into the crowd, my perception skill triggered sharply, like a string pulled tight. Someone was following us.

  I kept my expression neutral and maintained a steady pace. The market buzzed around us, colorful and loud, but I felt the eyes. Too deliberate. Too focused. We stopped at a vegetable stall. Allira picked through the fresh produce while I passed her a ripe melon. That gave me a chance to look around.

  Just one of them. Mismatched clothing, sword at the hip. No visible armor, but the way he moved, shoulders squared, scanning as he walked, told me he wasn’t just a common thug. It could be chainmail under his shirt. It could be worse.

  I leaned in and kissed Allira on the cheek. She grinned, a little flustered, always adorably embarrassed by public affection. I held the kiss just a moment longer and whispered into her ear, “Don’t be shocked, but we’re being stalked. I’ve confirmed at least one.”

  She hugged me back like nothing was wrong, her voice casual. “Then let’s grab something for Seraphina and Marlena, too.” Smart. Keep it normal. Keep it moving.

  I nodded, and we moved down the next row of stalls, stopping here and there to check out embroidered scarves, a tray of spiced nuts, and a rack of glass-blown charms. Throughout, I kept an eye on the two tailing us. Their movements remained relaxed and casual but were too purposeful to go unnoticed.

  Still, it didn’t add up. Only one? My perception wasn’t just trigger-happy for a single person. Could there be more? I was sure of it. It was that persistent itch that can’t be scratched. But where could the others be? I scanned the rooftops, checked reflections in brass trays, and polished glass. I looked for shadows moving where they shouldn’t. But if there were others, they stayed hidden. Too hidden. That nagged at me. This wasn’t an amateur. He wasn’t sloppy. His entry was staggered, his movements casual. A professional.

  We paused at a jewelry stall. I picked up a carved pendant with one hand and subtly held up four fingers with the other. Allira, behind me, held a silver bracelet to the light, her gaze scanning the crowd beyond the sparkling metal. The signal was clear: she was checking for more.

  I turned around just as she slid the bracelet onto her wrist, pretending to admire the fit. I smiled and paid the stall owner, keeping my voice light as I handed over a few coins. Then I unstrapped my satchel and passed it to Allyson.

  “Allyson, could you hold this? It’s getting heavy.”

  “Yes, Master,” she replied calmly, but her eyes met mine. She understood. She always did.

  There was a bottleneck at the end of the market street, where the road narrowed just before the inner city wall and its gate. A perfect chokepoint. Too perfect. The mysterious person was close enough now for me to use Analyze. Let’s see who we’re dealing with. I extended my Analyze skill and focused on the individual trailing just behind us.

  [Analyzing target…]

  Name: Orven Harrel

  Class: Assassin (Lv. 26)

  Notable Traits: Trained in formation tactics. Favored weapon: longsword.

  Threat Level: Moderate

  [DING]

  [22 XP Analyze Awarded]

  [Level Up –Analyze Level 6]

  124 XP Until Next Level

  So, a sole assassin. Who hired him? I leaned in and kissed Allira’s cheek again. “How do you want to handle it?” I murmured. “It’s an assassin.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. Glanced around casually, turned slightly to shield her voice. “If I were him,” she said, “I’d strike when we pass through the inner gates. It’s a natural chokepoint. He’ll want to funnel us where we can’t move freely.”

  She smiled and turned back, showing me the bracelet like we were two lovers shopping for gifts. I smiled in return, playing along, but my eyes were already scanning the far end of the street.

  There it was: the narrowing of the path just before the archway of the inner city wall. Crowded. Confined. A perfect kill zone. Too perfect. I could send word back to the Tower and have combat golems rush to our side, but that would be like burning down a house just to swat a fly. Overkill.

  Most people in this situation would either try to run away or confront it head-on. We needed something extraordinary.

  I leaned close to Allira. “Take Allyson and cross the street. Check out the far stalls, make it look casual.” She didn’t ask questions. Just gave me a short nod and tapped Allyson lightly on the elbow. As they started across, I moved behind a hanging banner, staying out of sight.

  Allyson’s armor drew attention intentionally. Her polished breastplate caught the light, and heads turned as she passed. That was the distraction.

  Time for my move. I waited until Allira reached the other side before turning to locate the assassin, Orven.

  He was still on our side of the street, weaving toward the stalls across from me. His posture didn’t scream assassin, but his eyes were locked on Allira. Too focused. He pretended to browse a fruit stand, fingers brushing across apples and citrus, but he wasn’t interested in produce.

  I kept pace with a group of city guards strolling past, blending in with their motion until I slipped behind him quietly, unnoticed.

  Allira, ever the soldier, knew her role. She glanced down the street toward me. Our eyes met. I gave the smallest nod. She started walking toward us. That’s when Orven moved. He set down the fruit and reached slowly for a small blade tucked under his cloak. Not very subtle. Not very smart. I was right behind him now.

  I try to be honest with myself. I’m not the most subtle person in the world. Sometimes, I trip over my own two feet for no good reason. Yet, as I watch this so-called assassin line up his “perfect” moment to strike Allira, I could only come to one conclusion:

  This might be one of the worst assassins in history.

  He pulled a slim blade from his belt and stealthily moved into position, trying to time his attack just as Allira stepped within range. I just stood there, observing him as if I were watching a street performance. At one point, I even shook my head.

  Then, casually, I stuck my leg out between his. When he lunged, he didn’t even get to the part where he yelled something dramatic. He flopped. Hard. Right onto the cobblestones in front of Allira.

  It was the perfect Kodak moment. I wish I had a camera. The look on his face? Priceless.

  Allira didn’t even blink. She stepped forward, drew her sword in one fluid motion, and leveled the blade just under his jaw. “I wouldn’t move,” she said calmly.

  Orven froze, then dropped the blade and went limp on the ground. I glanced at the stall owner next to us and gave her a helpless shrug. “Sorry about that.” My concentration was broken when I heard that familiar voice speak out.

  [DING]

  [New Skill achieved – Stealth - Level 1]

  82 XP Until Next Level

  “Allyson,” I said after I waited for the system notification to fade, “is Vaktar at the Tower?”

  “Yes, Master. He is.”

  “Would you have him come here? Tell him I’ve got someone who wants to have a little chat.”

  “I’ll send one of the housemaids to relay the request,” she replied. “It won’t take long.”

  And it didn’t. Within minutes, Vaktar arrived quiet, composed, and walking like a man who’d done this exact thing a dozen times before. He stopped beside me and looked down at Orven. Nearby shoppers were keeping their distance from the armored knight, who had her sword drawn.

  “So, my lord,” he asked, almost casually, “A new friend?”

  “Orven Harrel,” I said. “An individual with very bad luck.”

  Vaktar arched an eyebrow. “Orven Harrel? I know several people in Eldros who’ve been looking for him. A few here, too.”

  “Well,” I said, brushing off my sleeves, “would you mind finding out why he was trying to ruin our afternoon? After that, I don’t really care what happens to him.” There was Eldros again. Things have been pointing in that direction for some time.

  Vaktar gave a slight, satisfied smile and nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely, then turned back to the stall and scooped a few pieces of fruit into a bag, mostly ones I’d been eyeing while waiting. I paid far more than I needed to, offering the vendor a small smile. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Then I took Allira’s arm, and we headed back toward the Tower, blending into the flow of city life as if nothing had happened. As we moved through a side street, I saw Vaktar and a few assistants persuading Orven down a quiet alley. Some people make bad choices. Orven wasn’t going to be one of them.

  The three mages drifted away from the training grounds, their robes catching in the breeze, and claimed a table at the café across the square. From here, they had an unobstructed view of the yard and the man moving within it alongside his automaton.

  “What do you make of the earl?” Halden Sinthurk asked, his tone light, but his eyes never leaving the figure in the training circle.

  Aria Devanthes, head of the Devanthes family, waved a hand to summon the waitress before answering. “Not much. I didn’t sense any mana from him. To my senses, it was like he wasn’t even there.”

  Lord Carthis Virelles, head of the Virelles family, gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Same. He’s an engineer, then?”

  The waitress came, took their orders for light drinks, and left without a word.

  “Yes,” Halden said, folding his hands on the table. “Confirmed by people close to High Mage Valen and… the right corners of the royal court.”

  Aria let out a short, humorless laugh. “I thought they’d be more.”

  All three chuckled softly, three polite smiles that didn’t reach their eyes as their drinks and snacks arrived.

  “So,” Carthis said, watching the steam curl from his tea, “what now? If he’s an engineer, what’s our move? I’ve read the same reports as you; he has been seen going in and out of the Black Tower.”

  “Yes,” Aria murmured, her gaze fixed on the training circle. “Our reports say the same thing.”

  “I see two paths,” Halden said, his voice almost casual. “Unless you have another?”

  “Paths?” Carthis prompted, though his eyes narrowed faintly.

  “If he’s the real thing, we secure him quickly. If he’s a fraud, we take the tower from him.”

  Carthis’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “True. But before that, what about the golems?”

  Aria set down her cup with a soft click, her fork tracing idle patterns in her cake. “I saw them at the northern front. Under the command of his wife, Allira. I’ve never seen him act directly. He’s a builder, a blacksmith. How did she get command?”

  Halden’s gaze darkened. “I’ve seen those constructs fight, also. They cut through demons with utter destruction. If we move against him and that force turns on us, it will not go well. If we can take control of those golems.”

  “Options?” Aria asked. “Blackmail? Money?”

  Carthis tilted his head slightly. “Sex? He’s been seen with Mage Valen lately.”

  “We could give him Valen, she’s young and attractive,” Aria said, almost idly, as if she were commenting on the weather.

  Halden’s smile was thin, deliberate. “No. I have plans for my bride-to-be and her family. But not until after the royal reception.”

  Aria leaned back. “Then we need a public way to prove if he’s an engineer.”

  “True,” Halden replied. “But how?”

  “The royal reception,” Carthis said, glancing toward the cathedral’s spire. “We corner him there.”

  “It may work,” Halden said, “but we need more information first.”

  “Agreed,” Aria said, finishing her cake in one unhurried bite.