The trip back from the Ashen Crypt was a heavy, silent affair. The air inside their rented carriage, usually filled with the mundane rattle of wheels on cobblestone, felt thick with unspoken questions.
Elara sat ramrod straight on her side, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape, but Zane knew she wasn't seeing any of it. Her mind was a fortress under siege, and he was the one laying the siege without firing a single shot.
He, on the other hand, was enjoying the view. The fading light painted the rolling hills in hues of bruised purple and soft gold. It was a peaceful sight, a stark contrast to the churning vortex of doubt he knew was consuming his companion.
Finally, she broke. "Your knowledge of House Valerius... it wasn't 'luck'."
It wasn't a question. It was an accusation, delivered with the cold precision of a surgeon's scalpel.
Zane turned from the window, his expression one of mild surprise. "You think I'm some kind of secret historian? Herald, my only interests are a steady paycheck and a soft bed. Everything else is just noise."
"Noise doesn't get a mission's 'lore' right when The Sanctum's official records are wrong," she countered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That information is heresy. If the High Council knew you possessed it..."
She didn't need to finish. The penalty for such knowledge was not a fine or imprisonment. It was erasure.
Zane leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head in a display of utter relaxation. The movement was calculated, designed to amplify her own coiled tension.
"Then it's a good thing they won't hear it from you, isn't it? After all, what would they think of their rising star, the great Elara Valerius, whose entire family legacy is built on a lie? A very profitable lie, I might add."
Checkmate.
Her face, for a fleeting moment, lost its composure. He saw a flash of raw vulnerability, of a world crumbling at its foundations. Then the mask of icy indifference snapped back into place, but the cracks were there. He had planted a seed of doubt not just about him, but about everything she believed in.
AURA's silent voice intruded.
[Psychological analysis: Subject Elara Valerius is experiencing severe cognitive dissonance. Probability of her reporting your anomaly has decreased by 84%. Probability of her investigating you personally has increased by 97%.]
Perfect, Zane thought.
*Let her dig. The deeper she goes, the more she'll be trapped with me.*
The carriage rumbled into the outpost town of Havencrest, a muddy, chaotic settlement that served as a hub for Awakened of all ranks. The air smelled of roasted meat, cheap ale, and nervous energy.
Their destination was the local Hunter's Guild, a ramshackle wooden building that looked like it was held together by stubbornness and spilled beer.
As they stepped out, a boisterous laugh cut through the evening din.
"Well, well! If it isn't the Sanctum's little princess, gracing us with her holy light!"
A group of four Awakened blocked their path. The man who spoke was a mountain of muscle and gleaming steel plate, a massive war-axe resting on his shoulder. His name was Kael, a B-rank Vanguard known for his brutish strength and his disdain for the "pampered" elites of The Sanctum. His eyes, small and cunning, raked over Elara's fine armor with a mixture of lust and contempt.
Elara's jaw tightened. "Kael. I suggest you move."
Kael just laughed louder, his cronies snickering behind him. "Ooh, feisty. Heard you were on the Ashen Crypt job. Easy E-rank, right? Must be nice, getting paid just to shine a light. Some of us have to actually bleed for our keep."
His gaze shifted, landing on Zane for the first time. He scoffed. "And what's this? Did you bring your servant boy to carry your bags?"
Zane just stood there, his expression placid, projecting the perfect image of a terrified F-ranker caught in the crossfire. He was insignificant, a piece of scenery.
"He is my assigned partner," Elara stated, her voice dangerously low. "And this has nothing to do with you."
"Oh, it has everything to do with me," Kael said, his smile turning predatory.
He took a heavy step forward, his bulk casting a shadow over them. "See, my team was supposed to get that contract. But the Guild master said it was 'reserved'. Reserved for a high-and-mighty A-ranker who needed a quick and easy score. You stole my money, princess."
The tension in the air became a physical thing. Townsfolk and other hunters began to give them a wide berth. This was shaping up to be a classic Guild confrontation.
Elara's hand drifted toward the hilt of her rapier. "If you have a grievance, take it up with the Guild. Not with me."
"I think I'll take it up right here," Kael growled. "How about a little 'spar'? A-rank versus B-rank. If I win, you hand over your reward pouch. If you win... well, you won't."
He was goading her. A public challenge. If she refused, her reputation would suffer. If she accepted, she'd be stooping to the level of a common brawler. It was a political trap wrapped in brute force.
And in the middle of it all stood Zane, the forgotten variable.
He watched Kael's posturing, listened to his taunts. He saw the subtle shift in the man's footing, the way his knuckles were white on the handle of his axe. This wasn't just about money. It was about dominance. An inferiority complex writ large.
AURA whispered.
[Entity Kael: Rank B. Primary Skill: [Sundering Cleave]. Secondary Skill: [Berserker's Fury]. Threat Level: Negligible to you. Moderate to Subject Elara due to environmental and psychological factors.]
Zane sighed internally. He had hoped for a quiet evening. A warm meal. Maybe even a bath.
He took a small, almost imperceptible step back, positioning himself slightly behind Elara.
It looked like an act of cowardice.
It was the perfect position from which to observe the fallout.