(Below the City)
The tunnel air felt older than the city above it.
Not stale.
Used.
Stone walls stretched outward in carefully constructed lines, reinforced by support arches blackened with age. Water dripped somewhere deeper ahead in slow, irregular rhythm. Old iron brackets still clung to sections of the walls where torches must have once burned generations ago.
This had not been carved secretly.
It had been built properly.
Then forgotten.
Pryan moved carefully through the passage, sword lowered slightly, dagger still in his left hand.
Mireya stayed close behind him now.
Much closer than before.
Not because she was afraid.
Because the tunnels forced it.
"Well," she said quietly, looking around, "this is definitely worse than the market."
Pryan nodded once.
"Yes."
"You say that like you expected hidden underground infrastructure beneath the city."
"I suspected organized movement."
"That is somehow not comforting."
They continued deeper.
The tunnel widened ahead into a larger corridor lined with faded transport markings carved into the stone itself. Most had eroded beyond recognition, but a few symbols remained visible beneath dust and age.
Mireya brushed one lightly with her fingers.
"…Old imperial routes."
Pryan glanced at it.
"You recognize them?"
"My tutors forced me to study old logistics systems," she replied. "I hated every second of it."
A pause.
"…Might apologize to them later."
Pryan's attention shifted downward.
Footprints.
Recent.
Several groups.
Some lighter than others.
"Active traffic," he murmured.
Mireya immediately lowered her voice further.
"How many?"
"Enough."
"That's not a number."
"It's still correct."
Mireya opened her mouth to argue—
Then stopped.
Because footsteps echoed faintly ahead.
Both of them moved instantly.
Pryan stepped toward the wall while Mireya lowered her stance beside him, blade angled carefully.
The footsteps grew louder.
Two people.
Maybe three.
Conversation drifted faintly through the tunnel.
"…next transfer happens before—"
They rounded the corner.
Pryan moved first.
Fast.
Not elegant.
Efficient.
His sword intercepted the first infiltrator before the man fully reacted. Steel crashed sharply through the corridor.
The second enemy turned immediately toward Mireya.
She met him head-on.
Her blade style was cleaner than Pryan's current close-range movements—precise noble fencing adapted surprisingly well to the confined space.
The third infiltrator lunged directly toward Pryan's exposed side.
Too close.
Pryan's sword couldn't reposition fast enough.
The infiltrator noticed it too.
Then froze.
Because a knife suddenly appeared from beneath Pryan's sleeve.
A short hidden blade slammed directly into the attacker's forearm.
The man cried out in shock.
Pryan twisted hard, forcing him backward into the tunnel wall.
Mireya's eyes widened briefly.
"…Since when were you carrying that?"
"This morning."
"You bought a hidden knife and immediately decided this was acceptable behavior?"
Pryan disarmed the infiltrator with a sharp movement.
"It worked."
"That's not the point!"
The final infiltrator tried to retreat deeper into the tunnel.
Pryan stepped forward immediately—
Then stopped himself.
Too far.
Too exposed.
He exhaled once.
Adjusted.
Mireya noticed it instantly.
"You're learning."
"I'm trying not to repeat mistakes."
"That sounded dangerously mature."
The unconscious infiltrator groaned softly beside the wall.
Mireya crouched beside him quickly and searched his coat.
Nothing useful.
No documents.
No insignia.
Almost too clean.
"They expected capture," she muttered.
Pryan's gaze narrowed slightly.
"…No."
He looked deeper into the tunnel.
"They expected delay."
That made Mireya stand immediately.
"Meaning?"
"We're moving where they want movement."
"…Great."
They continued forward anyway.
Because stopping now would only make things worse.
The tunnel network expanded gradually the deeper they went.
New branches appeared every few hundred meters.
Old rail systems.
Collapsed sections.
Maintenance doors hanging partially open.
This wasn't a smuggler route.
It was infrastructure beneath the city itself.
Pryan slowed slightly at another intersection.
Then frowned.
"…Again."
Mireya looked around sharply. "What?"
"The timing."
He could feel it now.
Not as strongly as inside the mansion.
But present.
Subtle synchronization.
The infiltrators moved similarly to the hooded man.
Not equal.
Not close.
But trained beneath the same principles.
Controlled spacing.
Aligned engagement.
Predictive timing.
Pryan's grip tightened slightly around the dagger.
"…He taught them."
Mireya looked at him carefully.
"You sound annoyed."
"I am."
"That's honestly reassuring."
A faint metallic sound echoed somewhere deeper ahead.
Both of them froze.
Then voices followed.
More than before.
Pryan lowered himself slightly.
"Three ahead," he whispered.
Mireya listened.
"…I hear two."
"One behind the left support column."
A pause.
"…That's irritatingly specific."
Pryan moved first again.
This fight was worse.
The tunnel narrowed sharply, forcing everything into brutal close range.
One infiltrator attacked low.
Another from the side.
Pryan's sword blocked the first strike, but the second nearly reached him before Mireya intercepted cleanly.
Steel sparked violently in the confined corridor.
Mireya stepped inside her opponent's reach with surprising aggression, slamming her shoulder into the attacker before cutting across his leg.
"You're adapting too," Pryan observed.
"Now is not the time for feedback!"
The third infiltrator suddenly shifted rhythm.
Different.
Closer to the hooded man's style.
Pryan felt it immediately.
The delayed timing.
The forced misalignment.
His sword moved—
Too late.
The enemy stepped into his space perfectly.
Pryan abandoned the sword exchange entirely.
The dagger reversed instantly into a close grip while the hidden knife flashed from beneath his sleeve again.
This time the infiltrator reacted.
Barely.
The knife sliced across the side of the man's neck.
Not deep.
Enough.
The infiltrator stumbled backward hard.
Pryan immediately stepped away instead of chasing.
That alone showed growth.
Mireya noticed it too.
"You would've followed that yesterday."
"Yes."
"And?"
"I would've been punished for it."
"…Right. Fair."
The remaining infiltrators retreated deeper into the tunnels rather than continuing the fight.
Not panicked.
Directed.
Again.
Pryan hated that pattern already.
Far above the city, daylight slowly faded toward evening.
And inside the Halvane estate, concern finally began settling into something heavier.
"They still haven't returned?"
Lord Vaelric Halvane stood near the main hall window, expression calm but noticeably sharper now.
The butler bowed slightly.
"No, my lord."
"And the western district report?"
The older man handed over a folded document.
"Signs of conflict. Damaged structures. Blood at the scene."
Vaelric's eyes scanned the report once.
Then narrowed.
"Whose blood?"
"Unknown."
Silence settled briefly across the hall.
Then Vaelric folded the report carefully.
"Seal the information."
"My lord?"
"No public panic," Vaelric said calmly. "My daughter is missing. Pryan Gwanar is missing."
His voice remained controlled.
But the weight behind it shifted the entire room.
"One is heir to House Halvane," he continued. "The other is both noble heir and politically important enough that this cannot become public rumor."
The butler straightened immediately.
"Yes, my lord."
Vaelric turned toward the guards already gathering near the hall entrance.
"Mobilize discreetly," he ordered. "Search the western districts first."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And find out who touched them."
Deep beneath the city—
Aurelian Vaelor stepped silently through another tunnel branch.
The symbol from the dead infiltrator had led him here.
Now he stood beside a broken section of wall stained faintly with fresh blood.
His gaze moved across the scene slowly.
One unconscious infiltrator.
Controlled damage.
Minimal wasted motion.
A short blade wound.
A sword strike redirected instead of extended.
Aurelian's expression shifted slightly.
"…He adapted already."
Then he looked deeper ahead into the darkness.
And continued walking.
Meanwhile, Pryan and Mireya finally reached a massive underground chamber.
Both of them stopped immediately.
The chamber stretched outward like an underground transport nexus forgotten beneath the city itself. Old rail systems crossed through the floor. Massive support pillars disappeared upward into darkness.
And far ahead—
Mana lamps ignited one by one.
Blue-white light spread across the chamber in sequence.
Not random.
Intentional.
Figures emerged slowly from the illuminated sections ahead.
Waiting.
Watching.
Pryan's eyes narrowed.
Mireya quietly tightened her grip on her sword.
Because they both realized the same thing at the exact same moment.
They hadn't stumbled into the network.
The network had guided them into it.