Zen was having a wonderful dream.
He was back in his old office, but the phone lines were quiet. No pending emails, no urgent tasks, no knock on the door.
It was paradise.
He rolled over, sinking deeper into the high-thread-count goose feather pillows of the Magistrate's master bedroom.
BAM! A loud thud shook the floor, followed by a CRASH, as the sound of breaking porcelain echoed from the hallway.
Zen frowned in his sleep, pulling the duvet over his head. "Come on," he mumbled. "I did say to keep it down."
The sound of steel clashing against steel, followed by a man screaming.
"Back, you curs!" Elara's muffled voice came through the door. "The Sovereign is asleep! The first soul to touch this doorknob loses their hand!"
Zen's eyes snapped open.
He stared at the velvet canopy above the bed. Images flashed through his mind: the conference room, the heart attack, waking up in ruins, the crystal beast, the bandits, this mansion. All in less than twenty-four hours.
The noise from outside broke his train of thought again.
"Is there a war going on or something?" he whispered to the empty room.
—
Outside the bedroom door, the hallway looked like a war zone.
Elara stood in front of the heavy oak door with her sword sheathed and her arms crossed.
In front of her lay four members of the Royal Guard on the carpet. Two were unconscious, one was groaning and holding a broken rib, and the fourth was trying to crawl away, staring at Elara with fear in his eyes.
And at the other end was a beauty in silver armour with a blue cape flowing behind her. In her hand, she held a rapier that seemed to buzz with magic.
Her eyes were sharp and smart, and right now, they were filled with anger as they fixed on the silver-haired girl standing in her way.
"Stand aside," she commanded. "I am Princess Lysandra of the Kingdom of Aethelgard. You are harbouring a criminal who seized this estate by force. Surrender, or I will cut you down myself."
Elara looked at the Princess, then at the unconscious guards.
"Like I said, the Sovereign is sleeping," Elara said. Then, she whispered. "He requested silence. You are being loud."
"The Sovereign?" Lysandra scoffed. "You mean the vagrant who broke in and ate the Magistrate's dinner? I'll deal with you myself."
Lysandra lunged forward, moving quicker than the guards. Her rapier flashed through the air, targeting Elara's shoulder.
Elara didn't draw her weapon. She simply stepped inside the guard, slapped the rapier aside with her bare hand, and shoved Lysandra backwards.
The Princess stumbled, shocked by the raw strength.
"I said," Elara hissed, her eyes glowing faintly gold, "he is sleeping."
Before Lysandra could retaliate, the bedroom door creaked open, and Zen stepped out.
He wore the Magistrate's silk bathrobe, which was slightly too big for him. His hair was a mess, and he looked less like a warlord and more like a man woken up by a leaf blower on Sunday morning.
He looked at the unconscious guards, at Elara, who immediately dropped to one knee, then at the Princess, panting and pointing a sword at him.
Zen let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to suck the energy out of the room. "Elara, what's going on? Is there a fire?"
Lysandra blinked. "What?"
"Is the building on fire?" Zen repeated slowly. "Because unless there's a fire or a war, I don't understand why there's so much noise before noon."
Lysandra straightened, recovering her composure. She pointed her blade at Zen's chest. "You're the intruder? Identify yourself."
Zen rubbed his eyes. "I'm the guest in room... I didn't check the number, sorry. But you're the loudest wake-up call I've ever had. Who manages this place? The soundproofing is terrible."
Lysandra blinked, taken aback. "Manages? I am Princess Lysandra of the Kingdom of Aethelgard. You are currently trespassing in a City Magistrate's home, holding him hostage, and assaulting royal guards."
"I didn't assault anyone," Zen said, pointing at Elara. "She did. I was sleeping. And as for trespassing, I told the guys at the gate I needed to spend the night. Then this man… uhmm… Vexler, yeah. He gave me the room. If your filing system is so bad you lose guest registrations, that's a management issue, not a criminal one."
"He said you threatened him!"
"No, I asked for a towel," Zen corrected. "And he directed me to the second floor, third door on the left."
Lysandra's face went red. "This isn't a hotel! It's a government building! You can't just check into a Magistrate's home!"
"Well, I did," Zen shrugged. "And the service has been one-star so far. Now, if you're done shouting, I'm going back to bed."
Lysandra's eyes narrowed. She had dealt with bandits, warlords, and politicians. She had never dealt with someone this... annoyingly casual.
"You're going nowhere!" Lysandra snapped. She reached into her belt and pulled out Runed Manacles: anti-magic cuffs designed to suppress high-level mages.
She stepped forward. Elara tried to intercept, but Lysandra ducked under her guard and grabbed Zen's wrist.
"You're coming with me to the palace for questioning. If you resist…"
Snap.
The moment skin touched skin, the air froze.
[Contact Initiated.]
[Candidate Found: High Aptitude (Administrator Class).]
[Bond Established: The Strategist.]
A shockwave of golden light blasted outward from their hands. It didn't hurt; it felt like warm honey pouring directly into Lysandra's soul.
Lysandra gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. The tension in her shoulders melted away. The three-week headache about the border war disappeared. Her mind, usually filled with worry and plans, suddenly felt clear.
She looked at Zen.
He didn't seem like a wanderer anymore. He looked... complete, like he was the centre of everything. Her racing heartbeat slowed down to match his steady rhythm.
Zen felt it too. The drain on his energy. The connection.
He looked at the notification floating in his vision. Then at Lysandra's face. The aggression melting away, replaced by that familiar glassy-eyed look of euphoria he'd seen on the beast and Elara.
'It's happening again.'