He straightened up, adjusted his glasses, and continued his slow, aimless walk, establishing distance. The bait was set.
He found a quiet outdoor café across the park, securing a table with a clear, distant view of the Pyrope mansion's south wall. He ordered a lukewarm black coffee, opened his book (a dense text on arcane physics), and settled in to waitHe finished his coffee, set his book down, and adopted a slightly nervous, apologetic posture. He walked back toward the main gate, his heart beating a measured, professional rhythm. This was the moment he had to insert himself into the narrative.
He approached the massive, impassive gate guard. "Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry to bother you," Kai began, his voice high and earnest, projecting the nervousness of an overly conscientious citizen. "I'm Professor Elias Thorne, independent researcher. I was working in the park, examining some of the Founder-era masonry, and I noticed something... highly irregular. It's about the security wall."
He pulled out a small, non-lethal, professional atmospheric sensor—a prop he had calibrated to register a sudden "residual arcane spike." He showed the guard the spike reading. "I was tracking the residual fields of the old drainage system, which runs right under this boundary. My sensor picked up a massive, momentary surge right near that large memorial bench. It indicates a large magical object was either briefly activated or passed through that exact point. I was worried about structural integrity. I felt it my civic duty to report it immediately."
The guard, seeing the scientific props and hearing the precise details that confirmed the security incident they were currently trying to suppress, hesitated. Kai had not just reported a breach; he had provided the scientific explanation for the security anomaly that led them to the discovery.
"Wait here, Professor Thorne," the guard commanded, moving instantly to his communication bead.
A full five minutes passed. The guard spoke into his bead, listened intently, and then his expression, already grim, became severely troubled. He looked back at Kai.
"Professor Thorne, the family appreciates your report," the guard stated, his voice stiff. "You are free to go. We have the situation under control. Do not mention this incident to anyone." The guard was dismissive, eager to get rid of the witness without giving him a chance to ask questions. The family clearly wanted the matter contained instantly, without the complication of an external witness.
This was not what Kai had planned. He needed to make the delivery; he couldn't just walk away and hope the artifact was found and credited to his narrative. He had set the stage, but the final curtain required him to present the object.
"I understand," Kai said, trying to appear disappointed but compliant. He turned to walk away, making it as far as the edge of the large circular driveway before pausing, pulling out his notebook, and pretending to write. He was observing the main mansion doors.
He realized the security forces were so focused on the location of the anomaly (the wall) that they had missed the second, crucial step: The actual presentation. They had found the artifact in the pouch, but they would credit the discovery to a guard or internal staff, not to the "Professor." Rook's instructions required Kai's personal involvement to establish the external cover.
He needed to proceed with the original plan: Walk through the main doors and present the artifact as a finder.
He watched the main doors. Security personnel were moving in and out, but the front approach seemed surprisingly clear of high-level security. They were all focused on the breach site.
Taking a deep breath, Kai adjusted his tweed coat and glasses. He walked purposefully up the long, sweeping stone drive toward the imposing main entrance. He passed the gate guard, who merely shook his head in irritation but did not try to physically stop him—he was just an annoying academic now, not a suspect.
He climbed the wide, intimidating steps to the polished marble doors and pressed the large, ornate summoning chime. A few seconds later, a perfectly uniformed footman opened the door a crack.
"I apologize for the intrusion," Kai said, using his Professor Thorne persona, projecting confidence mixed with polite urgency. "I need to see a senior representative of the Pyrope household. This is a matter of profound importance concerning a family heirloom."
The footman, used to dealing with high society, was initially dismissive. "I'm afraid no one of rank is available to see you, sir. It is a chaotic time."
Kai stood his ground. "Please convey that I am holding a Pyrope Fire Relic that I found miles from here. I insist on giving it directly to a family member."
The mention of the Relic, delivered with the quiet certainty of Professor Thorne, was enough. The footman's eyes widened, and he immediately stepped back, leaving the door ajar. He disappeared into the echoing vastness of the foyer, clearly seeking someone with the authority to handle such a claim.
Kai waited, standing just inside the threshold, poised. He could hear the faint, muffled sounds of raised voices coming from deeper within the estate—the chaotic time the footman mentioned.
He had successfully forced his way to the center of the conflict, fulfilling his requirement to personally deliver the artifact. The chaos surrounding the theft and discovery was exactly what he needed to mask his next move.
He stood patiently, waiting for the senior Pyrope member who would eventually collect him. He was ready to maintain the lie of the honest, bewildered finder—the lie that would secure his reputation and Rook's freedom, even as the mounting tension promised far greater danger than he had bargained for.
The faint shouting from within the manor grew louder, the words indistinct but carrying the sharp edges of panic and deep-seated political fury. Kai shifted his weight, using the moment to subtly check the nearest exits and the footman's likely return route. The air in the foyer, rich with expensive perfumes and ancient arcane preservatives, felt suddenly charged, almost volatile. This wasn't just a simple artifact return; it was a crisis he had just accelerated.
He could feel the small ceramic Salamander, now hidden deep inside his coat, almost vibrating with residual energy. The thought struck him: if the family was this frantic over its discovery, the power struggle must be worse than any common theft. He needed more information before he fully committed to the narrative of the 'found item.' His instincts, honed by years in the city's shadows, screamed at him to listen, not speak. He decided to find a vantage point to observe the household's true state before completing the final, critical step of the delivery. He slipped silently from the grand doorway, drawn toward the faint sound of voices arguing near what he calculated was the main conservatory.