[Emerald Castle, Prince Alden's Bedchamber]
The moon hung high. Alden sat calmly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the dancing flame of a single candle.
"Report," he said without turning.
A figure slipped in through the window, wearing dark leathers and a cloth mask that left only his eyes visible. He knelt immediately, one fist pressed to the floor.
"Master." Sill lowered his head. "Code 06 has captured the one who struck this morning. Do you require the details?"
"No need," Alden replied. "Is he venting his frustration?"
Sill went rigid.
"He was... rather vindictive about having his sleep interrupted. So currently... he is taking his time with the assassin."
Alden nodded.
"Instruct him to act as my double for the next four days. And see to it that a fresh corpse is provided in the event of another attempt."
Sill's fingers twitched at his sides before he steadied them, pressing his fist harder against the stone.
"Ye... yes. Master. It shall be done."
Alden turned away, looking out of the window. Moonlight spilled through the glass, cutting across the floor of his bedchamber. His gaze was distant.
Sill finally straightened. "Code 198 has made contact, exactly as you predicted."
Alden gave a curt nod. "Give me the update on Rosewick."
Sill bowed deeper, his frame tensing. "The explosion was caused by an error at the Crimson Veil Tower, Master. They are a small operation—barely registered with the Imperial Alchemical Registry—specializing in combustion alchemy and experimental golem research."
Alden flicked his hand, signaling him to continue.
"They stockpiled refined Bavarium to supply Silver Star Tower on demand, but the quantity was excessive for the facility," Sill explained.
He paused briefly. "Geralt likely intended to seize the monopoly from Arcanum. To achieve this, he removed the Tower Master Hadrian and his direct disciple, Logan, allowing them to steal the refinement formula. Numerous nobles, including Arcanum's own senior disciples, are involved in this conspiracy."
"How far does the payment trail go?" Alden asked, finally tearing his gaze from the candle flame.
"The funds for the illegal Bavarium passed through three shell companies. One leads to a northern branch of the Silver Star. Another traces back to a merchant account in the Western Province."
Sill hesitated.
"And the last one... leads to the palace."
Alden's eyes narrowed. He tapped a single finger against the carved armrest of his chair, the rhythmic sound filling the silence. Tap. Tap.
Sill spoke swiftly to fill the gap. "We have gathered the evidence: correspondence between Crimson Veil's Tower Master and the intermediary, payment records, and testimony from a disciple who overheard the planning." Sill lowered his voice. "We eagerly await your command. With these pieces of evidence, Arcanum and Silver Star will be vanquished."
"It is not yet time. Arcanum has its purpose," Alden said in a monotonous, uninspired tone.
"In that case, we'll keep them separate until you need them. But Master… there's a peculiar detail." He shifted his weight. "Prince Aran has been communicating with them."
The tapping stopped.
"Oh." Alden sank deeper into his seat. "Motive?"
"Research. Both parties share an interest in subject responses to extreme conditions... for their golem research. We secured the evidence."
A slow smile curved Alden's lips. "Keep it. For now."
Sill stepped closer to the table. "We also recovered the extra Bavarium and the courier's manifests. The letters discuss 'field tests'—blood magic formulas and a mind-shattering toxin called the 'Will-Sapper'. Likely the same one you took today." Reaching into his tunic, Sill placed a small wooden token on the table. It bore the etched emblem of a silver star. "A disciple's mark. This man, Bofur, was a disciple of Silver Star Tower."
Alden stood up, walking toward the shelf to retrieve a note. "Any complications so far?"
"The Silver Star basement." Sighing, Sill forced his body to remain still. "Currently we have no method to take them out without being caught."
Alden glanced down at the note in his hand, then moved back to his seat.
"Also, they've planted false leads for Lord Limon to follow," Sill explained rapidly. "Do you want me to help him investigate?"
Alden waved a hand dismissively. "No need. Collect those records as well."
"As you command, Master." Sill bowed deeper. "But... what about those women and children..."
Alden did not turn. "Not yet. But immediately after the court verdict."
He finally looked up, meeting Sill's gaze. "Until then, ensure Geralt keeps believing in his victory."
"Understood, Master." Sill's eyes crinkled into a smile above his mask. "Geralt won't know what killed him until the blade is already through his heart."
"Finish the rest. Have them neatly arranged by the court hearing in four days." Alden didn't look moved; he simply nodded before he strode back to his seat. "Did you bring them?"
Sill unhooked a pouch from his waist. Taking a deep breath, he undid the tie, revealing a cluster of vials containing liquids of varying colors and viscosity.
"These are the samples you requested," Sill said, extending the collection with both hands. "They are exceptionally lethal and can induce paralysis to varying degrees. Some can be triggered by mere contact, while others are fatal with a single inhalation, destroying nerves."
Alden reached out, plucking a single vial from Sill's palm.
"But Master, if you needed someone gone, we could have done that for you. Why not just name the target?" Sill looked up, head tilting.
A soft smile formed on Alden's lips. "I am the target," he replied, uncorking the vial.
Sill's breath stopped, hands stretched in fear to stop Alden, words spilling out in a rush.
"Master, we can fix it. Do you want someone gone? We can make them look like accidents. Whatever you desire, we will get it. Please close the lid. Just tell us."
Alden observed him. Sill was begging.
"You misunderstand, Sill," Alden said softly. "I am not trying to get paralyzed or die."
Sill's head jerked up. "Then... why?"
"This body is weak." Alden swirled the liquid in the vial. "I need to fix that."
"With poison?"
Alden smirked. "The best antidotes are poisons. And to numb the overload, nothing works better than a paralytic."
"How would it?" Sill tried to protest. "Master, why not let our research team handle that? How about Code 21? She can study and find a way to..."
"Sill." Alden cut him off. "Do not question my decisions."
Sill froze, clamping his mouth shut.
"I know what I am doing," Alden added, his tone final.
"Understood... Master."
"Dismissed."
Sill darted back through the window, his footsteps making no sound.
Alden sat alone, the candle long since extinguished.
Setting aside the new poisons, he retrieved a small vial with residue of dark red liquid from his nightstand drawer. He gripped the vial tightly and stood up.
He stood by the open window, a shapeless silhouette wrapped in heavy, dark wool, concealing his face beneath the cowl.
He stepped onto the ledge, leaned forward, and let go. Gravity swiftly pulled him down, and his boots touched the grass. He bent his knees deeply to cushion the impact. Though he'd only jumped three stories, a sharp pain jolted through him. Alden ignored it.
Before the grass could spring back, he was gone, already moving through the outer perimeter.
Two guards stood by the Castle Gate, their breath pluming in the chill air.
A gust of wind blew between them. The torch in the iron sconce sputtered, the flame wavering before flaring back up wildly.
"Hey." Garrett stiffened, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. He spun around, his eyes sweeping the walkway. "Did you hear something?"
Tobias took a few steps back and leaned heavily against the stone archway, his expression unchanging. He then looked at the younger guard, eyes half-lidded. "Hear what?"
"I felt like..." Garrett rubbed the back of his neck, the hair there standing on end. He squinted into the gloom, turning a full circle. "I felt like something just passed by me. Right here."
Tobias snorted, shifting his weight. "We are both wide awake, boy. Look." He gestured at the empty expanse of the courtyard. "Saw nothing... Must be the wind or some wild animal."
"Really?" Garrett scratched the back of his head, his helmet tilting askew. He took a few steps into the dark, poking his spear at a shadow. But there was nothing.
"Stop overthinking." Tobias slapped him on the shoulder, the sound loud in the quiet night. "Focus."
Half a mile away, a silhouette landed silently atop a slated roof.
Alden paused, looking back at the castle in the distance. He adjusted his hood, a faint, sharp smirk cutting through the shadow of his cowl.
He turned his back on his home. Below, the city slept behind shuttered windows—except for one quarter in the east, where the lights burned crimson.
He dropped from the roof into the alleyway, heading straight for the Red Light District.
Twelve yards down the narrow alley, a small, unassuming hut sat bathed in the red glow of a lantern. Alden's eyes flicked to the silhouette against the window.
He didn't break stride. His boots made no sound on the cobblestones as he pivoted sharp left, moving toward a two-story timber building. It was shabbier than the agent's quarters—paint peeling in gray strips—but the structure was solid, looming over the surrounding shanties.
Alden bypassed the front stoop, blurred past the drunkard sleeping by the rain barrel, and reached the heavy wooden door. Through the walls, sounds of activity drifted into the street.
He didn't knock. He didn't pick the lock. He placed a gloved palm against the wood and shoved.
Bang.
The door flew inward, bouncing off the interior wall with a violence that shook dust from the ceiling beams.
Inside, the air was suffocating—hot, humid, and reeking of the pungent, musky tang of sweat and body odor.
On the bed, a tangle of naked limbs jerked apart.
"Aaah!" The woman, startled, scrambled backward with a gasp. Her heels dug into the mattress as she tore the sheet up to her chin, her eyes wide and white in the dim light.
Vorenus rolled off the bed, hitting the floorboards hard. His limbs flailed. His breathing came in short gasps. He was a soft man, heavy in the middle, his skin pale and slick with sweat. His head snapped toward the intruder. His eyes flicked to the pile of clothes, then to the door, then back to the intruder—rapid, unfocused movements as he calculated the distance to where his satchel and dagger lay.
He was three steps away from them. Too far.
But Alden was further.
"Who are you?!" Vorenus bellowed, clamping one hand over his groin while scrambling to stand.
The intruder took a step forward.
Panic overtook modesty. Vorenus lunged—not for his clothes, but for the dagger resting atop them. He snatched the blade and hurled it in a single, desperate motion, hoping to skewer the intruder or at least force him back.
Alden didn't even blink. He simply tilted his head, letting the crude throw sail harmlessly past his ear and thud into the wall.
Vorenus didn't wait to see it land. His hand dove into his open satchel. He produced a crystalline vial swirling with volatile orange liquid and smashed it against the floorboards at Alden's feet.
A deafening crack shook the room. A cloud of acrid, purple smoke erupted outward, accompanied by a flash of searing heat that scorched the wood black. The shockwave rattled the windows, filling the room with a blinding, chemical haze.
Vorenus shielded his eyes with his hand, coughing as he backed away. His voice cracked and rose in pitch. "Hey, do you know who I am? I'm the Tower Master of Crimson Veil Tower! Oh, but I probably should have asked who sent you—"
Cold steel pressed against the flesh under his jaw.
Vorenus froze. The purple smoke was still swirling where the intruder should have been, but Alden had moved faster than the explosion. He was already behind him, ignoring the sobbing woman entirely.
Vorenus's eyes bulged. He reached blindly for another vial in his bag, but Alden was faster. He pulled a heavy burlap sack from beneath his cloak. With a single, fluid motion, he jammed it down over Vorenus's head, cutting off the Tower Master's scream.
"Mmph—!"
Alden cinched the rope tight at the neck. He grabbed the struggling Tower Master by the waist and hoisted him onto his shoulder with one hand.
Vorenus kicked wildly, his legs thrashing against Alden's chest.
Alden's lip curled in a sharp grimace under his cowl. A fleeting expression—gone in a heartbeat.
He turned, took two steps, and launched himself through the open window.
"EEEEEEEE!" The woman's second scream pierced the night, but the room was already empty.
Alden vaulted off the roof, landing silently on the cobblestones of the desolate alley. A black carriage awaited him. He approached, opened the door, and dumped the sack.
Thud.
Vorenus groaned, writhing inside the burlap.
Alden slammed the door shut. He brushed the front of his tunic once, threw away his gloves, then looked up at the driver.
Captain Lut didn't ask. He simply collected the thrown gloves and handed him a new pair.
Then he snapped the reins, and the carriage rolled away into the dark.
Alden watched it go, his face showing nothing, before turning and slipping away between the buildings.
The black carriage vanished around the corner. Code 198, watching from the doorway, dropped her casual demeanor. She spun, eyes fixed on the timber building where smoke curled from the shattered window, striding into the gathering crowd.
Amidst the chaos, a woman stood trembling in the center, hastily dressed in a misbuttoned tunic and haphazardly thrown shawl. Her shaking hands reached out, grasping the sleeve of a passing neighbor. Her mouth hung agape, ready to spill the truth.
"It was—there was a shadow, and he just—"
Code 198's heart sank. She sprinted through the crowd, her eyes darting backward towards the far end.
"Oh… oh, you poor dear!"
Her melodic cry of distress pierced the air. Before the neighbor could respond, she rushed to the quivering woman, enveloping her in a suffocating embrace. She shielded her from curious gazes.
The District Master, a broad and imposing figure, approached from afar, flanked by two guards. The woman, oblivious to the new arrival, collapsed into the hug, clutching 198's tunic. "Ahh, it was… what happened was…"
Code 198 leaned in, her lips brushing the woman's ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Are you a fool?" 198 hissed softly, her hand stroking the woman's hair soothingly. "What are you doing, creating a scene like this?"
The woman pulled back slightly, confused, but 198 held her close, glancing fearfully at the approaching District Master.
"Look who is coming," 198 whispered. "You will be the first one dragged to the dungeons as a witness. They'll question you, drag you here and there, and when they're done... you'll be executed just for knowing too much. Is that what you want?"
The woman stiffened. Hysteria vanished, replaced by a sudden, chilling realization. She looked at the District Master, then back at 198, wide-eyed and terrified.
"I..."
"Take my suggestion," 198 urged, her voice soft and steadying. "Tell them the Tower Master lost his temper. He threw a few explosives around and left to enjoy his night. That's it."
She squeezed the woman's hands, looking her deep in the eyes with an expression of solidarity.
"Whatever happened after he left... what does it have to do with you? You're just a victim." She smoothed the woman's messy shawl. "We are women, we must help each other, no? Don't put yourself in danger..."
The heavy footsteps stopped nearby.
The woman swallowed hard. She looked at the kind stranger who had just saved her life, then wiped her face. She took a deep breath and nodded.