Chapter 15: The Red Thread in the Black Market
Caelan Valtherion remained frozen in the dark corridor long after Prince Eldrin had returned to his chambers. His mind, usually a calm sea of cold analysis and honed strategy, was now roiling with a tidal wave of equal parts awe and fear.
He didn't just give me an order, he thought, his breath catching. He even showed me where to look for the proof. He knew I wouldn't be able to find it on my own. That magical watermark... it can only be activated by Aether.
A terrifying and unavoidable conclusion formed in his mind.
Did he... did he know from the very beginning that I was watching him with Aether Sight?
The question sent a shiver down his spine. It was the only logical explanation. The Prince hadn't just asked him to be a teacher as a test; he had selected him, tested him, and now, he had given him his first mission in the most secure and secret way possible. By giving him a clue that only he, with his abilities, could see. This was a level of planning and caution that surpassed anything he had ever witnessed.
Suddenly, he felt like a green recruit in the presence of a true grandmaster. The feeling was strange. For years, for countless lifetimes, he had always been the one who knew the most, the one holding all the cards. Now, he could only guess at his new master's moves. And strangely, that feeling of not knowing... was liberating. The burden of saving the world alone now felt a little lighter.
But this was not the time for philosophical reflection. He had a mission.
The problem was, he couldn't just walk up to Commander Gregor and say, "I saw a magical watermark on the ledger while I was secretly spying on the Prince." That would be the end of his career as a guard... and possibly his life.
He needed a way to deliver this information. A way for the information to be "discovered" naturally by the right person.
He thought quickly, mapping out the assets and variables within the castle. Gregor was too bound by protocol. Dunstan was too panicky. But Captain Philip Hanssen... he was ambitious. He was pragmatic. And most importantly, he was already impressed with "Cain." He was the perfect piece.
Caelan melted back into the shadows, his plan forming with speed and efficiency.
The next morning, Captain Philip Hanssen was reviewing patrol schedules in his cramped office when a low-ranking guard entered and placed a small slip of parchment on his desk.
"Who's this from?" Philip asked, not looking up from his work.
"Don't know, Captain," the guard replied. "Someone slipped it under the barracks door. No name, no seal."
Philip grunted, dismissing it as a prank or an anonymous complaint from one of his men. He was about to throw it away when his eyes caught the handwriting on it. Brief, neat, and unadorned.
Check the Treasurer's ledger again. There's more than just ink in there.
Philip froze. The ledger? This had to be related to the economic crisis everyone was talking about. But that last line... more than just ink. That was the line of a spy, not the complaint of a soldier.
His instincts, honed by his experience as a commander, snapped to alert. This was no prank. This was a clue.
Without hesitation, he rose and strode quickly toward Commander Gregor's office.
In a dusty archive room in the lower part of the castle, Treasurer Dunstan watched anxiously as another old man in a gray scholar's robe bent over his ledger. Maester Lorian, a private Aether tutor occasionally employed by the nobility, had been summoned at Commander Gregor's insistence.
"I see nothing, Commander," Lorian said, his voice hoarse with dust. "Just very... depressing financial records."
"Look closer, Maester," Gregor urged, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Use your Aether."
Lorian sighed, looking skeptical. He placed his palm on the book's leather cover, closed his eyes, and began to channel his weak stream of Aether. For a few moments, nothing happened.
Then, Lorian's brow furrowed. "Strange..." he murmured. "There's... a residue. Very, very faint. Not illusion magic... more like... a mark."
He opened his eyes, now looking more interested. "Captain Hanssen, please dim that lantern."
Philip immediately turned the knob of the Aetheric lantern until the room was cast in dim light. Lorian placed his hand on the book again, this time channeling his Aether with more focus.
And there, in the center of the dark leather cover, a symbol began to glow with a pale, sickly light. A circle with three waves inside it.
"By the ancestors..." Dunstan whispered, taking a step back.
"What is it?" Gregor asked, his sharp eyes never leaving the symbol.
"It's... it's a magical watermark," Lorian explained, his voice now full of awe. "A very rare and expensive technique. Used by the great merchant guilds to mark their most secret documents or cargo. The mark is invisible to the naked eye and will only react to a specific Aether flow."
"Do you recognize the symbol?" Philip asked.
Lorian shook his head. "Not personally. This is not the symbol of any of the official major guilds. This is more like... a black market sigil."
It was then that Commander Gregor stepped forward. He stared at the symbol, a memory from his past as King Alaric's spymaster resurfacing.
"I have seen it," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Years ago. On a crate of smuggled cargo we seized on the Osverian border. This is the emblem of the 'Three-Current Trading,' one of the shell companies controlled by Maksim Yakubets."
The name hung in the dusty air. Maksim Yakubets. Head of the Merchant's Guild. Duke Morcant's pawn.
Philip Hanssen stared at Gregor with wide eyes, the pieces of the puzzle now clicking into place in his mind. The salt crisis. The iron crisis. Duke Morcant. Maksim Yakubets. And the Prince's strange orders.
"So... the Prince... he knew all along," Philip whispered, more to himself. "He wasn't just guessing. He knew exactly where to look."
Gregor didn't answer, but the hard expression on his face now showed a glimmer of deep understanding. He turned and looked at Philip.
"Captain. You and I will see the Prince. Now."
Eldrin was alone in his room. The ledger lay on the floor, forgotten. His mind was no longer filled with numbers and deficits. He was completely focused on the new sensation within him.
He tried again, closing his eyes, mimicking the state of resigned frustration he had experienced the night before.
Failure.
He tried again. And again. For nearly an hour, all he got was exhaustion and dizziness. The warm pulse did not return.
Damn it, he thought. So it was just a one-time fluke?
He sighed, a sharp disappointment welling in his chest. Of course. Of course he couldn't control it. The small hope that had bloomed last night now felt like a cruel joke.
It was then that a firm knock sounded on his door. Elara announced the arrival of Commander Gregor and Captain Hanssen.
When they entered, the expressions on their faces were completely different from before. There was no more doubt or desperation. There was a focused intensity, an almost fanatical conviction.
"Your Highness," Gregor began, his voice resonating with newfound belief. "Your order to investigate... has borne fruit."
Captain Hanssen stepped forward, placing a slip of parchment on Eldrin's table. On it, he had carefully copied the symbol of the magical watermark.
"We found this on the Treasurer's ledger, exactly as you indicated," Philip said, his voice full of admiration. "It is the secret symbol of one of Maksim Yakubets' companies."
Eldrin stared at the strange symbol, then at the expectant faces of Gregor and Philip. His brain spun, trying to comprehend what was happening.
As I indicated? I didn't indicate anything! I just touched the book!
He realized with horror what had happened. His accidental Aether touch. Cain's unseen surveillance. Somehow, a complete accident had been interpreted as a genius clue from a master of intelligence.
The layers of misunderstanding around him were growing thicker, more suffocating.
Gregor looked straight into his eyes, his gaze no longer containing disappointment, but a renewed, unshakeable loyalty.
"We have found the red thread, Your Highness. This economic sabotage clearly leads directly to Duke Morcant."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"Your Highness, what is your next command?"