Chapter 45: Infiltration
21st September, Year 1420 — Rune Era.
A pale light leaked through the lace curtains as dawn crept across the city.
Raven sat on the edge of his bed, fingers tracing the faint scars along his wrist. His eyes were cold but alert. Steam drifted from the bathroom door — the scent of soap and heat blending with the faint tang of iron from his gloves drying on the stand.
He buttoned his white shirt, straightened the black vest, and reached for his shoes. Before he could slip them on, a firm knock echoed through the quiet room.
"Jacob?"
"Good morning, my lord," came the reply as Jacob entered. His black suit was pressed to perfection; even the silver watch chain across his chest glinted like discipline itself. In his hand was a Gladstone bag, worn at the edges from travel.
He set it on the table and opened it with a click. Inside lay sealed envelopes, folded garments, and a faint smell of wax and ink. Jacob withdrew a thick paper and offered it with both hands.
"This," he said quietly, "is your appointment letter. The bribes were handled through the Underground Guild, and a loan shark's name was used for authentication. Everything checks out."
Raven took the paper. His gaze flicked over the crisp handwriting, the embossed seal of the Supreme Court.
Jacob spoke as Raven read. "Your alias is Levi. Eighteen years old. Born in the Commoners' Borough. No parents, no family. Basic schooling only. Worked for a loan shark named Samuel since childhood. Samuel rewarded your loyalty with a recommendation."
Raven's lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Even for sweeping floors, they demand a history."
"There's a waiting list a hundred names long," Jacob said. "Five gold coins monthly is a fortune to the poor. Without the five hundred gold bribe, we'd never have slipped you in."
Raven folded the letter neatly and looked up. "You didn't reveal yourself to Samuel or Everett's man?"
Jacob's eyes met his. "Everything was done anonymously. No one will connect this to you, my lord. The wig and makeup will do the rest."
Raven nodded slowly. "Good. Then the Court will see a sweeper, not a noble."
Jacob reached into the bag again and produced a folded green uniform. "The workers' attire."
Raven took it, feeling the roughness of the fabric between his fingers. "Excellent."
He stored both the letter and the uniform in his inventory and turned toward the window. Outside, the street was alive — carriages rolling, guards saluting nobles, the faint chatter of morning servants preparing for their masters.
Across the road, banners fluttered above a marble estate. Raven's gaze lingered. Judith's mansion. The air there buzzed with restrained excitement.
"It seems our neighbor's hosting something today," he murmured.
Jacob followed his gaze. "Vice-President Judith returned home yesterday. There's to be a banquet tonight. Butler Harold advised us to stay clear."
Raven smirked faintly. "A warning from a distance. How polite."
He slipped on his coat. Together, they descended the spiral staircase to the main hall, where Selene and Stephanie waited by the door.
Stephanie bowed, handing him a small satchel. "Lunch, my lord. Please be careful."
Before Raven could reply, Harold stepped forward. "Mr. Holmes," he said carefully, "why do you never take guards or servants? You're a nobleman, are you not?"
Raven paused on the threshold, his expression unreadable.
"I move faster when I'm alone," he said simply. "Is the carriage ready?"
Jacob nodded.
"Good. Selene—stay below ground until I return. Complete the task as instructed."
Selene bowed. "It will be done, my lord."
Raven walked down the path through the garden. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of wet stone and trimmed hedges. At the gate, a black brougham carriage waited, its wheels glinting with dew.
The coachman tipped his hat. "Where to, sir?"
"Market Street."
The carriage lurched forward, hooves clattering against cobblestone. Raven leaned back into the velvet seat, the hum of the city slipping past the windows.
'Too many eyes,' he thought. 'Even a disguise can't protect me from carelessness.'
[Review the plan?]
"Yes," he whispered. "Let's go over it again."
The city rolled by — bakeries opening, vendors shouting, a priest blessing passers-by.
By the time the carriage reached Market Street, sunlight had risen above the rooftops, warming the stone. Raven paid the fare and stepped out, the noise of morning swelling around him.
He crossed the street to an old wagon drawn by three horses. Its driver smoked lazily, eyes half-closed.
"Smith Road," Raven said, tossing him two silvers.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Not the usual destination for a noble. Hop in, lad."
Raven climbed inside and shut the door. Curtains drawn, the world went dark. He removed his formal clothes and slipped into the coarse green uniform. His fingers combed his hair into uneven strands, and he traded his polished shoes for worn leather ones.
When he looked into the hand mirror, a stranger stared back — sun-dark skin, dull brown eyes, a faint scar by the lip.
[Face Morph complete.]
He smiled thinly. "Now, let's vanish."
Through the gap in the curtain, he watched the slums pass — crooked houses, muddy alleys, people who looked away when carriages rolled through. His pupils shimmered faintly as Mind Eye activated.
The world slowed.
Every flick of motion, every breath of air came into focus — a beggar boy huddled near a trash tin, an old woman selling stale bread, a cluster of thugs smoking under a torn awning. And a ginger cat perched on a barrel, staring straight at him.
Perfect.
He whispered, "Shadow Shift."
Darkness warped. In the space of a blink, the boy in the wagon vanished. A ginger cat sat in his place, licking its paw.
The real Raven stood now in the alleyway's shadow, eyes glinting beneath the grime. He adjusted his shirt collar, blending into the slow march of morning workers.
Another wagon waited at the corner. He flicked three silvers toward the driver. "Supreme Court."
The man cracked his whip. "Aye. Hold tight."
The ride took half an hour. The air grew cleaner, the streets broader, the houses richer. When they reached the circular compound of the Supreme Court, Raven stepped down, thanking the driver with a coin flick.
"Good luck, lad," the man said, chuckling. "You'll need it."
Raven gave no answer. Ahead, five workers in green stood by the side gate, waiting to be checked by guards. He slipped quietly into their line.
Three policemen in red uniforms watched with the patience of hawks. One leaned forward as Raven reached the desk.
"Name?"
"Levi, sir."
The officer skimmed the parchment, his eyes darting up and down Raven's face.
"New worker?"
"Yes, sir. Appointment came yesterday."
One of the older workers laughed. "That's right, Kairo. We were told a new boy'd join today."
The officer grunted, stamping the paper. "Everything checks out. Don't make trouble."
A gray-haired man clapped Raven's shoulder. "Welcome to hell, boy. Name's Gerald. Stick with me."
They passed through the side gate and into the marble corridors. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting lines of crimson and blue across the floor.
Inside the storage room, Gerald began assigning tasks. "Axel, Roman—Chamber of Deliberation, Hall of Records. Zion, you're with me for the Inquiry Room, Clerk's office, and Judges' chambers."
He turned to Raven. "You'll handle the Main Hall of Judgment."
Roman frowned. "What? That place takes three hours with four men! He's new!"
Gerald only smirked. "The lad looks eager. Aren't you, boy?"
"I'll try my best," Raven said meekly, lowering his head.
"That's the spirit."
The others left with their brooms and bins. Gerald lingered, glancing down both ends of the corridor before speaking softly. "You paid well for those two hours. Make them count. The head patrol won't be around till the afternoon. If anyone comes, Zion'll warn you first."
Then he left.
Raven stood alone. The hallways were eerily quiet.
He walked until the air changed — heavier, solemn, echoing. The doors before him opened to reveal the Grand Hall of Judgment.
Rows upon rows of empty seats curved around a central dais. The marble floor gleamed under the light pouring from the glass dome above.
Raven stepped in. His footsteps echoed, each one a whisper of his intent.
He traced the path to the Counsel's Table, then to the Judges' bench, the Defendant's cage, the gallery seats engraved with noble crests. Every name, every position—he memorized them all.
He closed his eyes.
In his mind, the room filled with life. Voices, arguments, gasps of the crowd. The clang of the gavel.
He opened his eyes again and exhaled slowly.
"Let's begin rehearsal."
He shifted his form back to his true face, his black hair gleaming faintly in the shafts of light. The coat he wore shimmered into a formal black morning suit, his hat resting lightly in his hand.
Then he began to speak—first softly, then louder, pacing before the table like a seasoned advocate. His voice filled the empty hall, rising and falling in a practiced rhythm. Sometimes pleading, sometimes cold. For one hour, the Supreme Court became his stage.
When his throat burned dry, he stopped. "Enough."
He changed back into the green uniform, returned his disguise, and picked up the broom. Dust rose in lazy spirals as he swept. By the time the others returned, he'd barely cleared a third of the hall.
Lunch came and went in tired silence. They worked until the sun dipped low.
Gerald stretched his back with a groan. "Even with five of us, we barely saved an hour. Let's call it."
They stored their tools and left together, laughter and small talk drifting in the evening air. The guards at the gate barely looked up as they exited.
Raven's chest eased with quiet relief.
Outside, he caught a carriage to Smith Road, then another to Market Street. By the time he returned to Crown Tavern's mansion, dusk had fallen.
The street outside buzzed with noise — carriages, music, and laughter spilling from the neighboring mansion.
He paused at the gate. "What's happening tonight?"
Jacob met him in the hall, wiping his hands on a towel. "Madam Judith's banquet, my lord. It's her 'second birth' — the day she was taken in by her teacher. She calls it her birthday now."
Raven's gaze lingered toward the glow of her estate. A celebration of rebirth… fitting.
He turned down the left corridor and descended the cold stone stairs.
The basement door creaked open. Warm lamplight spilled over him.
Selene appeared, hair tied back, eyes sharp as always. "Welcome home, my lord."
Raven stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Everything's ready?"
"Yes," she said, her tone quiet but certain.
He nodded once, the corners of his mouth tightening. "Then the real trial begins."
The basement was silent, heavy with the scent of chalk and burning oil.
Raven descended the spiral staircase, boots echoing against the cold stone. Shadows crawled across the curved walls, flickering under the lanterns. When he stepped into the underground hall, his eyes narrowed.
A five-meter-wide ritual circle sprawled across the floor, drawn in white chalk so precisely it seemed carved into the stone itself. The faint shimmer of spiritual energy rippled through its edges like waves of moonlight.
Selene straightened from her kneeling position beside the circle. Her pale hair reflected the lamplight, her gloved fingers still dusted with white.
"It's done, My Lord," she said quietly.
Raven's gaze swept over the formation, tracing every rune and curve with the precision of a sculptor.
'Almost perfect,' he thought. The circle's heart pulsed faintly, a sign of successful energy alignment. The outer ring was marked with glyphs representing dreams, illusion, and sleep — and ten candles surrounded it like silent sentinels. Their faint flames trembled as if the ritual itself was breathing.
He crouched beside it, brushing a fingertip against one of the chalked lines.
"Let's wait until midnight," he murmured, then rose and sank into a nearby chair. His cloak fell over the armrest like a curtain of black mist. "Did you get everything for the ritual?"
Selene nodded, producing a small satchel. "Almost, My Lord. Ten magic stones, twelve Dream Lilies, ten drops of Dread Snake's blood, ten White Poison Leaves, and one vial of Flame Bee nectar from the Mystic Cauldron. But—" she hesitated, "we're missing the last item. Blood from a Dream Creature."
"We have plenty of dream books and newspapers. They're all from the Dream Realm," Raven said, voice steady.
Selene frowned. "That won't be enough. We need actual Dream Creature blood. You extracted goblin blood for research once, didn't you? Can we use that?"
Raven froze. His fingers twitched.
"I already sent the bottle to my senior brother."
Selene's expression faltered. "You… sent it away?"
She sighed softly. 'I should've known. He never keeps anything unnecessary near him.'
Raven exhaled through his nose and stood. "Then we'll get it ourselves."
Selene blinked. "You mean—"
"Yes," he said, eyes gleaming under the dim light. "We'll enter the Dream Realm."
"But I can only cast [Dream Walk] once before the ritual. If I fail to cast it again—"
Raven raised a hand. "Don't worry. If you fail, I'll give you something better." His tone softened. "Just trust me."
He sat beside her, taking her left hand gently. His touch was cold but steady.
"Store my spear using Dream Harvest," he ordered.
"Yes, My Lord."
As she murmured the incantation, faint silver light enveloped the spear and dissolved it into her palm. Then she closed her eyes, fingers forming intricate runes in the air.
[Dream Walk.]
The world tilted.
A cold current swept over Raven's mind — not pain, but a disorienting pull. His consciousness dimmed as his body went weightless.
Then everything went dark.
…
When Raven opened his eyes, silence greeted him. The air was thicker, unreal, carrying the scent of wet earth. He could see his breath even though the room wasn't cold.
Selene's voice echoed from his right. "We're inside the basement, My Lord."
She rose from her chair, eyes glowing faintly with spirit power. The surroundings looked identical to the real world — the same lamps, same chalk circle — yet the air pulsed with something strange.
"There's no danger here," Raven murmured. But unease prickled beneath his calm tone. He turned toward the door. "Let's go."
The wooden door creaked open with a long groan.
The mansion's corridor stretched before them, pale and distorted, as though submerged underwater. Shadows stretched in unnatural directions.
"So the Dream Realm has nights too," Raven said, walking behind Selene. His boots sank faintly into the carpet, as if the floor was breathing.
He was about to pass her when Selene stopped and grabbed his shoulder. Her grip was ice-cold.
"My Lord… why do I feel cold suddenly?"
Raven frowned. "It's not the air. It's your hand." He glanced down. "And stop gripping me."
Her voice trembled. "What hand? I'm walking ahead of you."
The words froze him.
Raven turned his head slowly toward his shoulder — but there was nothing there.
Selene's breath hitched. "Don't scare me like that—"
A whisper brushed past her ear, faint but clear. "You shouldn't have come here."
Raven's instincts screamed.
He activated [Mind Eye]. The world sharpened into layers of energy, and there — faint indentations appeared in the dust a few feet away. Footprints. Invisible, yet undeniably real.
'Spear,' he commanded silently.
Selene reacted instantly, summoning the weapon from her Dream Harvest and thrusting it toward him.
A faint distortion rippled across the room — something unseen moving toward the wall.
"It has mass," Raven muttered. "Not a ghost… something between form and thought."
The invisible entity slipped through the wall as if it were smoke and vanished toward the yard.
Selene shivered. "It ran?"
"It sensed danger," Raven said grimly. "Good. Let it stay gone."
He motioned for her to follow. "We take what we need and leave."
They climbed the stairs and stepped into the open yard — or what passed for it in dreams. The night sky glowed faintly violet, constellations twisting like living things.
Then, a noise — skittering.
Raven turned sharply. A creature crawled from beneath a twisted root: half a meter tall, stretched long like a feral rodent. Two heads, both snarling, and metallic spikes running along its back.
The creature shrieked and lunged.
Raven didn't flinch. He inhaled and released a stream of freezing breath.
[Cold Breath.]
Icy vapor poured out like a living storm, coating the floor in frost. The two-headed rodent froze mid-leap, crystallizing under a thin layer of ice.
Raven stepped forward, his spear humming with invisible force, and swung once.
The ice cracked. The heads fell.
Selene exhaled shakily. "You've improved a lot, My Lord."
"Compliment me later," he said, wiping the spear clean. "Store it."
She nodded, casting the storage spell and sealing the corpse within.
"Let's go."
They hurried back down into the basement. The eerie silence returned, thicker this time. Raven checked the room one last time through [Mind Eye].
'I don't see any anomalies.'
He sat beside Selene, holding her hand again. "Let's leave."
His voice was steady, but his heartbeat thundered in his chest.
The world folded in on itself — shadows collapsing, air vibrating — and then light returned.
…
When Raven opened his eyes again, he was back in the real basement. Both he and Selene exhaled in unison.
"That was horrifying," Selene muttered, wiping sweat from her brow.
Raven stood immediately, unscrewing a glass jar. He drew the rodent's blood with practiced hands, every motion quick and precise.
"Time?" he asked.
Selene checked the clock on the wall — and blinked. "It's 12:30. My Lord… we were gone for hours!"
Raven's expression darkened. "So time flows differently there." He corked the jar and straightened. "No more delays. We begin."
He withdrew ten old books from his inventory and handed them to her.
"Place these at the ten corners of the decagon."
Selene obeyed, her movements steady despite the lingering tremor in her hands.
"Now, light the candles."
She lit each flame carefully, one by one. The faint aroma of the wax mixed with dream lilies' perfume, creating a surreal sweetness.
"Magic stones beside each candle. Dream Lilies too."
The circle pulsed faintly, runes beginning to stir.
Raven continued: "Add a drop of Dread Snake's blood into every flame."
The moment the blood touched the fire, the candles flared violently — each producing a small, glowing orb that rose into the air and hovered, unmoving.
Selene's eyes widened. "My Lord, they're—"
"Focus," Raven snapped gently.
She nodded and continued the process. Soon ten fireballs floated in orbit around the circle, their light casting shifting patterns across the walls.
"Poison Leaves next. Then the Flame Bee nectar."
As the last droplet fell, the orbs began spinning in a slow, graceful dance — circling the ritual like planets around a sun.
Raven stepped into the center and opened the jar of dream creature blood.
"Now," he said. "Place your hand on my back and prepare to cast [Dream Walk]."
Selene obeyed silently, her eyes flickering with apprehension.
'Whose dream are we entering?' she thought, but didn't ask.
The fireballs halted above them, aligning into a straight line. The moment Raven poured the blood into the chalk lines, the ritual flared alive — the entire circle blazed crimson, energy surging like a living heart.
"Now!" he commanded.
"Dream Walk!"
The world erupted.
The air imploded inward, pulling light and sound into a single spiral. The candles burst. The runes bled red and dissolved into mist. The stone floor cracked beneath their feet — and then everything vanished.
Darkness. Then wind.
The scent of grass.
When Raven blinked again, he was no longer underground. Trees swayed around him. Stars shimmered overhead.
…
Across the city, within Judith's mansion, a woman in a long blue gown sat alone on a velvet sofa. Her emerald eyes reflected the firelight as she poured herself another glass of wine.
She looked thirty-five — but time had long ceased to touch her.
"I drank too much," Judith muttered. The wine sloshed softly in the glass.
Tonight was her celebration — the day she called her second birth. Yet loneliness clung to her like perfume.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, toward the sleeping city.
"Everyone I knew is gone," she whispered. "Mortals… they never stay."
Her head grew heavy. The wineglass slipped from her fingers, spilling across the carpet.
Then she was asleep.
…
In the Dream Realm, Raven and Selene stood at the edge of a quiet village bathed in silver mist.
Selene blinked. "What happened? Where are we?"
"I think we're inside her dream," Raven replied. His eyes narrowed. "Cast [Dream Alter] on me."
She murmured the spell, and Raven's body shimmered — his black hair turning deep blue, eyes bright jade, skin olive-toned. His features reshaped into someone else entirely.
Raven grinned faintly. "Convincing enough."
He turned toward the village. "Stay here."
"Be careful," Selene said, though her voice barely carried.
Raven nodded and whispered, "Crimson Steps."
Sparks flared beneath his feet, and he vanished — reappearing twenty meters away in a blink, again and again, until the flashes disappeared into the fog.
When he finally slowed, the village unfolded before him. Wooden cottages, cobblestone paths, the scent of burning wood. Villagers moved about, but their motions were… wrong. Too precise. Too synchronized.
'Dream constructs,' he realized. 'Projections of memory.'
A voice broke the rhythm.
"Who are you, Mister?"
Raven turned.
A little girl stood a few feet away — ten years old, barefoot, hair dark as ink. Her curious eyes gleamed with life unlike the others.
He crouched slightly, smiling faintly. "A traveler," he said. "Passing through a dream."
The girl tilted her head. "I'm Judith. This is my house." She pointed at a small cottage nearby. "Are you lost? What's a dream traveler?"
Raven's smile lingered, but his gaze softened. The question of a child — yet beneath it, a ripple of memory.