The Ironclad Estate smelled of abandonment. It was a scent composed of dry rot, dust, and the stale air of rooms that had not heard laughter in a decade. However, by mid-morning, a new scent had intruded. It was the metallic tang of a safe being cracked.
In the Duke's private study, Ignis knelt before a massive iron wall safe. He did not use a stethoscope or a drill. He used a single, long claw to trace the runic tumblers as he felt the vibrations of the mana-locks.
"Three pins," Ignis muttered, his eyes narrowed behind his monocle. "And a blood-seal. Standard Imperial security. Pathetic."
He pressed his thumb against the seal. He did not have the Duke's blood, but he had a vial of the healing salve they had made from the Duke's blood mixed with the World Tree root. He smeared a drop onto the metal.
With a click and a heavy thunk, the heavy door swung open.
Valeria peered over his shoulder. Inside were stacks of gold bars, deeds to land, and bags of uncut gems.
"We are funded," Valeria said, letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding. "Take two bags of gold. Leave the rest. We are not looting. We are withdrawing operational expenses."
"Two bags?" Ignis raised an eyebrow. "That is enough to buy a small castle."
"Or one very important dress," Valeria said, turning to the window.
Below, in the overgrown courtyard, Kael was pacing. He had been forced to hide his ears and tail under a heavy hooded cloak, and the restriction was making him irritable. Silas was sitting on the fountain's edge, watching the street through the iron bars of the gate. His body was tense as a coiled spring.
"We need to blend in," Valeria explained. "But we also need to stand out. In the Capital, invisibility is death. If you look like a victim, you will be eaten. If you look like a predator, you will be respected."
She walked to the table where she had laid out the Duke's signet ring. She slipped it onto her finger.
"Kael," she called out the window. "Get the carriage ready. We are going shopping."
The Silk District of Aethelgard was a world away from the frozen mud of Oakhaven. Here, the streets were swept clean every hour by magic-automated brooms. The buildings were painted in pastel hues of cream and rose, and the air was perfumed with lavender to mask the city's underlying stench.
Valeria stepped out of the black carriage in front of Madame Clothilde's, the most exclusive couturier in the city. She wore her travel-stained wool dress, and her hair was tied back in a messy knot.
Kael stepped down behind her. He wore a simple black tunic and trousers, his face hidden behind a black silk mask that covered everything but his golden eyes. He looked less like a servant and more like an executioner on his day off.
The doorman, a snooty man in livery, looked at Valeria's attire and sneered.
"Deliveries are in the back, girl," the doorman sniffed.
Kael did not speak. He just stepped forward. He stood seven feet tall. He looked down at the doorman, and a low, subsonic rumble vibrated in his chest. It was not a growl, as the City Ward would detect aggression, but it was a heavy, physical presence that triggered the lizard brain of any prey animal.
The doorman turned pale. He stepped aside, opening the door with a trembling hand.
Valeria walked in with her chin high.
The shop was an opulent salon of mirrors and velvet. Several noblewomen were browsing, speaking in hushed, vicious whispers. When Valeria entered, the conversation stopped. Eyes darted to her dirty hem, her worn boots, and her masked giant.
Madame Clothilde, a sharp-faced woman with pins in her mouth, bustled over. She looked ready to kick them out.
"This is a private establishment," Clothilde began, her tone icy. "We do not serve commoners."
Valeria slammed a bag of gold coins onto the glass counter. The heavy impact cracked the glass slightly.
"I need a wardrobe," Valeria said calmly. "Black. Silk. Mourning style, but aggressive. I want to look like a widow who just killed her husband and is looking for the next one."
Clothilde looked at the bag. She opened it. The gold glittered.
Her expression changed instantly from hostility to professional greed.
"Right this way, My Lady," Clothilde purred.
For the next two hours, Valeria was pinned, tucked, and measured. She selected a gown of midnight-blue velvet with silver embroidery that mimicked frost patterns. It was a subtle nod to the North. The cut was modest but severe, with a high collar and a structured bodice that resembled armor.
While Valeria stood on the pedestal, Kael stood by the door with his arms crossed. He was a statue of menace. The other noblewomen had fled, unnerved by his presence.
Except for one.
The door chimes rang. A young woman walked in, flanked by two maids and a guardsman wearing the crest of House Vespera. It was Valeria's birth family.
The woman was beautiful, with golden curls and eyes like blue glass. She wore a dress of pink chiffon that cost more than a farm.
It was Isolde Vespera. Elise's younger half-sister. She was the daughter of the Duke Vespera's second wife, the golden child who had inherited everything when Elise was stripped of her title.
Isolde stopped dead. She looked at the woman on the pedestal. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Elise?" Isolde whispered. Then she laughed. It was a cruel, tinkling sound. "By the Saints, it is you. I thought the wolves had eaten you by now."
Valeria turned slowly. She looked at her half-sister. She did not feel Elise's pain. She felt a cold, clinical assessment.
[Target: Isolde Vespera.]
[Class: Noble / Socialite.]
[Threat Level: Low (Physical) / High (Reputational).]
"Hello, Isolde," Valeria said, her voice smooth. "Disappointed?"
Isolde walked closer, circling the pedestal. She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rotting.
"You are not supposed to be here," Isolde hissed, her mask of sweetness slipping. "Father's edict was clear. You were banished to the Northern Wastes. If you are found within the city walls, the guards have orders to arrest you on sight."
She glanced at Kael. She shivered, but not with fear. She shivered with disgust.
"And what is this? Did you sell yourself to a barbarian to buy passage back? Or is this your new pet?"
Kael's fists clenched. The leather of his gloves creaked.
"Careful, sister," Valeria said softly, stepping down from the pedestal. She was taller than Isolde now. Stronger. "The North changes people. It strips away the fat and leaves only the bone. I am not the girl you and your mother shoved into a carriage and sent to die."
"You were sent away because you are a monster," Isolde spat. "You tortured your servants. You disgraced the Vespera name. And now you dare to show your face in Madame Clothilde's?"
"I am not here as Elise Vespera," Valeria said, leaning close to Isolde's ear.
She raised her hand. The Duke's ring caught the light of the chandelier. The heavy gold seal of House Ironclad flashed in Isolde's face.
Isolde froze. She knew that ring. Every noble in the Empire knew the Ironclad Seal. It belonged to the Grand Duke, a man who ranked higher than her father.
"I am here as the Voice of Ironclad," Valeria whispered. "And if you insult me again, I won't tell Father. I will tell the Duke."
She pulled back. Isolde looked like she had swallowed a lemon.
"The Duke?" Isolde stammered. "But he is a recluse. He hates everyone."
"He likes me," Valeria lied. "Now, run along, Isolde. Go buy your pink frills. I have an Empire to burn."
Isolde stared at her, then at Kael, then at the heavy bag of gold on the counter. She turned on her heel and fled the shop, her entourage scrambling to keep up.
Madame Clothilde, who had watched the entire exchange with wide eyes, stepped forward.
"That was impressive," the seamstress admitted. "Lady Isolde is a terror."
"She is a child," Valeria said, turning back to the mirror. "Finish the hem. I have an appointment at the Palace tomorrow."
"The Palace?" Clothilde paused. "My Lady, the Emperor is not holding court this week. The only event is the Garden Party of the Equinox. But that is invitation only."
"I know," Valeria said. "Do you have the guest list?"
Clothilde hesitated. "I dress half the women attending. I know who is going."
Valeria slid another gold coin across the counter.
"Tell me," Valeria said. "Who is the most vulnerable person on that list? Someone with high rank, but low friends?"
Clothilde picked up the coin. She lowered her voice.
"Countess Morwenna. She is the Emperor's cousin. She is elderly, nearly blind, and she hates the Beast Taming Guild because her favorite cat was killed by a stray hound last year."
Valeria grinned.
"Perfect," she said. "I think the Countess just found a new best friend."
While Valeria fought the social war, her other husbands were fighting the shadow war.
Silas and Lucian had split up. They moved through the lower city, the docks and the slums, where rumors flowed faster than wine.
Lucian sat on a rooftop overlooking the Guild Headquarters. He used his Sky-Dancer Goggles to zoom in on the courtyard.
It was buzzing with activity. Couriers were running in and out. Soldiers were sharpening weapons.
"They are nervous," Lucian chirped to himself.
He saw a man in a red robe walking through the yard. It was a Mage. But not just any mage. He wore the crest of the Royal Vizier.
"The Palace is talking to the Guild," Lucian noted. "That is bad."
Meanwhile, Silas was in a tavern known as The Broken Tusk, a place where non-humans and rough mercenaries drank. He wore his hood low as he nursed a tankard of ale he did not drink.
He listened to the chatter.
"I heard Varg is dead," a mercenary whispered at the next table. "Killed by a ghost in the North."
"No," another replied. "Captured. That is the rumor. Some new Warlord up in Oakhaven. They say she rides a Golden Tiger and commands the dead."
"The Guild is mobilizing the Black Legion," the first man said. "They are going to march North in a week. Burn the whole valley."
Silas's grip on the tankard tightened until the wood groaned.
A week.
They did not have months. They had days.
He slipped out of the tavern and melted into the shadows. He had to tell Valeria. The clock was ticking faster than they thought.
That night, the Ironclad Estate was a hive of quiet activity.
Valeria stood before the fireplace in the main hall. She was wearing her new dress just to break it in. It fit her like a second skin, turning her from a farm girl into a dark queen.
"Report," she said.
"The Guild is mobilizing," Silas said from the shadows. "The Black Legion. Heavy shock troops. They march in seven days."
"That means Lysandra has convinced the High Council that we are a military threat," Ignis analyzed. "She is bypassing the legal system to get a 'Kill Order'."
"Then we have to strike first," Valeria said. "We have to get the Emperor to issue a 'Cease and Desist' before the Legion marches."
She looked at the invitation Clothilde had procured for her. It was heavy cream paper embossed with gold leaf.
[Invitation: The Equinox Garden Party.]
[Guest: Countess Morwenna + 1.]
"We are crashing a party," Valeria announced.
"We?" Kael asked. "You and the Countess?"
"Me and my 'Exotic Pet'," Valeria said, looking at Kael. "The invitation allows a plus one. Nobles love bringing rare beasts to show off. You are going to be my accessory, Kael."
Kael growled. "I am a General, not a poodle."
"You are a Tiger," Valeria corrected. "And tomorrow, you are going to be the most terrifying thing in a garden full of flowers. You won't speak. You won't bow. You will just stand there and remind them that while they play politics, monsters are real."
She turned to Ignis.
"I need the documents. The confession Varg hasn't written yet."
"I can forge his handwriting," Ignis said. "But a confession without the man is just paper."
"We bring the paper to the party," Valeria said. "We get the Emperor's attention. And then, when he asks for proof, we tell him where to find the body."
She looked out the window at the glittering spire of the Palace.
"Tomorrow, we don't just walk into the Court," Valeria whispered. "We kick the door down."