---
By the time we reached the city guard post, the guards had already heard about Silas.
Because he told them.
"Evening!" he called out as we approached the checkpoint. "Just passing through. The knight's arresting me. It's all very professional."
Iria handed him off to the officer with the expression of someone delivering a cursed sword. Velis watched the exchange like she was trying to diagnose a magical rash. I just wanted a nap.
"I'll only be here a day or two," Silas said cheerfully. "You'll miss me. That's not arrogance—it's just been well-documented."
They locked him in a holding room "pending formal charges," which in capital terms meant until someone higher up gets bored.
I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
---
The royal advisors had decided it was time for a "cooperative hero coordination session," which meant someone had read a bad management scroll and decided to ruin our morning with it.
The session took place in a long sunlit chamber filled with chairs that looked fancy but were clearly designed to punish your lower spine. Each of us had a placard with our name, title, and, in my case, "Divine Disruptor (unranked)" printed in enchanted gold ink.
Ren Arashi entered first, arms wide, smile brighter than the chandelier.
"My comrades! It fills me with joy to reunite in service of the realm!"
Three noblewomen sighed. Simultaneously.
Kuroblade Nightshade entered through a side door, trailing shadow like he summoned it himself.
He didn't speak.
He just sat backward in the chair, arms crossed, and glared at the wall.
Velis sat down with the focus of someone about to solve a crime.
Iria straightened her posture to dangerous levels.
And me?
I was already tired.
---
A chancellor named Ivalen welcomed us with a smile so practiced it could've been animated. He clicked his fingers, and magical charts began floating around the room, detailing hero routes, sightings of demonic influence, and resource requests.
It was all very impressive. Very neat. Very wrong.
Ren Arashi requested more "mobile support," which apparently meant an entourage of healing mages and a musical bard for morale.
Kuroblade insisted on investigating the "echoing shadows beneath the ley-ridges of the fourth quadrant."
No one knew what that meant.
But he said it with such confidence that half the room nodded anyway.
I raised a hand.
"Hi. Just wondering—do any of these lovely graphs explain why a noble house is smuggling enchanted relics out of the capital and into enemy-controlled border towns?"
Silence.
Ivalen cleared his throat. "The council is reviewing unusual financial activity among certain households. No need for alarm."
"No need?" Velis said, voice flat. "Your leyline infrastructure nearly exploded last week, and someone in this city has a direct link to demonic sigils not seen since the Fifth Binding."
"Allegedly," Ivalen said.
"Ah, yes," I said. "The classic 'allegedly smuggling weapons to evil.' My favorite political defense."
---
After the meeting, the other two heroes pulled us aside.
Well—Ren did. Kuroblade mostly brooded behind a pillar.
Ren smiled, warm as ever. "I believe we should divide our efforts strategically."
"Is that why you requested eight attendants and a carriage shaped like a swan?" Velis asked.
"They improve morale."
"I'm morally offended."
He turned to me, eyes sparkling. "And you, Kaname—have you found your strength?"
"I found a pie-eating title."
He nodded solemnly. "That is also a trial."
Kuroblade finally spoke. "I felt it again. The shiver of entropy. You bring it with you."
"Yep," I said. "Still the walking glitch."
Ren and Kuroblade immediately launched into an argument about which direction their party should investigate next.
Velis and I quietly left while they were debating whether to follow "the stench of darkness" or "the trail of destiny-sparked longing."
---
When we returned to the guard station, we found Silas in the lobby.
Not in a cell.
Drinking tea.
"Hi again," he said, waving with the hand that wasn't cuffed.
"What—how?" I asked.
"Turns out, technically, no one ever filed charges. So now I'm just 'pending evaluation.' Which means I can't leave town, but I can join my arresting party for tea."
Iria stepped forward. "You are a criminal."
"I am a flexible resource with niche expertise," he corrected. "And possibly your best bet at understanding the capital's more... discrete traffic."
Velis studied him. "You've worked with nobles before."
He sipped his tea. "I've worked around nobles. They don't watch their coin purses very well."
"And what do you want in return?" I asked.
"Safety. A little adventure. And the occasional plate of festival dumplings."
He grinned.
And we took him.
Not officially.
But we didn't say no.
---
That night, in a quiet side chamber of the inn, Velis laid out a stack of stolen documents Silas had helped her procure.
Receipts. Seals. A coded ledger in ink that shimmered faintly under spelllight.
All pointing to one noble house.
House Marrowind. (Legally distinct)
An ancient family with too much land, too little oversight, and a growing pile of missing artifact shipments.
I looked down at the glowing page.
"What are they planning?"
Velis didn't answer.
But Iria drew her blade. Just slightly.
As if preparing.
---