Location: The Citadel of Mars, Upper Keep (Restricted Zone).
Time: 02:00.
The Citadel did not sleep. It merely lowered its voice to a menacing growl.
Dante walked through the corridors of the Upper Keep. The stone walls were cold, vibrating with the deep, subsonic hum of the massive steam-generators buried miles beneath the earth. He wore his new uniform—a long, crimson trench coat with the heavy silver Wolf's Skull badge pinned to the lapel. The coat was heavy, woven with ballistic fibers, and it commanded immediate respect.
Guards—men in heavy plate armor with internal pneumatic pistons—snapped to attention as he passed, the sound of their heels clicking echoing like gunshots.
"Captain," they grunted in unison.
"At ease," Dante replied, not slowing down, his boots striking the floor with rhythmic authority.
He reached the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall. Two Praetorian Guard—elite soldiers who had their vocal cords surgically removed to prevent them from ever leaking secrets—crossed their energized halberds. They stared at him with dead, fanatical eyes.
Dante didn't flinch. He stopped inches from the blades. He tapped the badge on his chest.
"The Baron requires a reference text," Dante lied smoothly, projecting boredom. "Unless you want to explain to him why his strategy for the Northern Offensive is delayed because you couldn't read a rank badge?"
The Praetorians looked at each other. They scanned the badge with handheld mana-readers. Beep. Authentic.
They stepped aside. The halberds uncrossed with a hum of disengaging energy fields.
Dante pushed the massive doors open and stepped into the Lion's brain.
The Baron's Archive
It wasn't a library in the traditional sense. It was a chaotic intersection of a museum and a bunker.
There were no wooden shelves or cozy reading nooks. Instead, industrial metal racks stretched to the ceiling, filled with scrolls, slate tablets, and heavy, leather-bound tomes that looked more like weapons than books. The air smelled of ozone, old paper, and cigar smoke.
In the center of the room was a massive tactical map of the world, projected onto a slate table, pinned with daggers representing armies.
"Silas," Dante whispered, touching his ear-piece. "I'm in."
"Copy that," Silas's voice crackled, sounding nervous. "I'm monitoring the Baron's thermal signature via the Citadel's vents. He's in the mess hall, three floors down. You have... maybe twenty minutes before he finishes his steak. He eats fast."
"Twenty minutes is an eternity," Dante muttered.
He walked to the history section. The books here were huge, bound in iron and bone.
"Prime," Dante thought, his eyes scanning the shelves. "Scan for the target."
"Scanning," Prime's voice echoed in his skull, layering a blue grid over his vision. "Target: 'The Anatomy of Empires' by General Kaelen. Searching..."
Dante's vision overlay turned blue. Prime highlighted the shelves, rejecting titles like The Physics of Siege Engines and 101 Ways to Flay a Traitor.
"Target located. Row 4, Shelf B. Third book from the left."
Dante walked over. He pulled the book. It was heavy, bound in pale, textured leather. Dante ran his thumb over the spine and felt a faint ridge—a scar. It was bound in human skin. Likely a rival warlord.
He opened it.
"Don't read it," Dante commanded himself. "Just copy it."
He flipped the pages rapidly. Flip-flip-flip. His eyes, linked to Prime's eidetic memory, acted as a high-speed scanner.
"Recording... Recording... Page 455: The Location of the Engine."
Dante stopped.
He looked at the page. It wasn't just text. It was a hand-drawn diagram of a mountain range in the North—The Spine of the World. Deep inside the mountain, a complex mechanism was drawn in red ink.
The Second Axiom.
"Got it," Dante whispered, a surge of triumph hitting him.
But as he went to close the book, a loose piece of paper fluttered out.
Dante caught it before it hit the floor.
It was a note. Handwritten by the Red Baron. The pen strokes were heavy, aggressive, tearing the paper in places.
Dante's blood ran cold.
The Baron wasn't just reacting to Dante. He was studying him. Next to Dante's name, the Baron had written:
SUBJECT: SILVERGRIN
Anomaly. Survives lethal mass loss. Uses alchemical entropy without a circle. Possible connection to the "Lost District."
STRATEGY: Keep close. Use him to find the Engine. Once the door is open... kill him and eat his heart. Absorb the power.
"He knows," Dante realized, staring at the words. "He doesn't trust me."
"Logic dictates he plans to use you as a bloodhound," Prime analyzed coolly. "He lacks the specific frequency to open the Axioms. He waits for you to unlock the door, then executes you. Standard betrayal protocol."
"Smart man," Dante admitted.
He carefully placed the note back into the book. He slid the book back onto the shelf, aligning the dust pattern exactly as he found it.
"Silas, I'm done. Exiting now."
"Dante!" Silas hissed, his voice rising in panic. "Abort! The thermal signature just moved! He's in the elevator! He's coming up! He skipped dessert!"
Dante froze.
The elevator shaft was right outside the main doors. He couldn't leave without walking straight into the Baron.
"Is there another exit?"
"No! It's a bunker! There's a ventilation shaft, but you'd have to dislocate your shoulders to fit, and it vents into the incinerator!"
Dante looked around. Hiding was impossible; the Baron would smell his cologne, or the ozone of his arm.
"Plan B," Dante said, his heart rate spiking.
"What's Plan B?"
"Audacity."
Dante walked over to the massive tactical map in the center of the room. He picked up a grease marker.
Ding.
The elevator doors chimed outside.
Heavy boots stomped down the hallway. The Praetorians slammed their heels together. CLACK.
The library doors swung open.
The Red Baron marched in, chewing on a toothpick. He looked tired and angry. He stopped dead when he saw Dante.
Dante didn't jump. He didn't look guilty. He was leaning over the map, sketching a complex flanking maneuver on the Sector 7 border.
"You're in my chair, Captain," the Baron growled, his hand drifting instinctively to his pistol.
Dante looked up, feigning annoyance at the interruption.
"Your defensive line is sloppy, Baron," Dante said, pointing at the map with the marker. "You have heavy tanks on the ridge, but the soil there is loose shale. If Aurum sends heavy mechs, the vibration will cause a landslide. You'll lose half your armor before a shot is fired."
The Baron paused. He squinted at the map.
He walked over, ignoring the fact that Dante had broken into his private sanctuary. He looked at the lines Dante had drawn.
"The shale is stable," the Baron argued, leaning over the table. "We tested it."
"You tested it with walkers," Dante corrected. "Not with Siege-Breakers. Look at the geology."
He tapped a book on the table—Geology of the Ash Wastes (which he had randomly pulled three seconds ago).
The Baron looked at the book. He looked at the map. He grunted.
"You broke into my library at 2:00 AM to critique my landscape architecture?"
"I broke into your library because I don't like losing," Dante said, straightening up and meeting the Baron's gaze. "If I'm going to hold Sector 7, I need to know the terrain. Your officers were too slow getting me the files. I expedited the process."
The Baron stared at him. For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the humming of the overhead lights. The Baron's eyes searched Dante's face for a lie.
Then, the Baron laughed.
"You arrogant little shit," the Baron grinned, shaking his head. "You remind me of myself before I lost my hair."
He walked to a cabinet and poured two drinks.
"You have initiative. I like that. Most of my captains are yes-men. You're a pain in the ass."
The Baron handed Dante a glass.
"But you're wasting your time with maps. Sector 7 is secure. The Titans are dead. But a new front has opened."
The Baron pulled a golden envelope from his pocket. He slapped it onto the map.
"The Estate of Lady Vespera. The Auction."
Dante picked up the envelope. It was heavy, embossed with the seal of the Gold Sovereign.
"I heard about this," Dante said. "They're selling her furniture."
"They are selling her secrets," the Baron corrected. "Item #894. The Key to the Celestial Observatory."
Dante's heart skipped a beat. The Celestial Observatory. It wasn't just a telescope. In the old legends, it was a device used to track the movement of the Ley Lines. The GPS of the Axioms.
"Aurum wants it," the Baron said, his eyes darkening. "If the Gold Sovereign gets that Key, he gains eyes on the entire board. He will know where every resource is buried. He will know where the Engines are."
The Baron pointed at Dante.
"I can't go. Aurum and I have a... treaty. If I step foot in his Exchange, it's an act of war. He will freeze my accounts. But you..."
The Baron smiled.
"...you are a 'Contractor'. A neutral party. Technically. You have a reputation for chaos."
"You want me to bid?" Dante asked.
"I want you to win," the Baron said. "I am giving you a line of credit. Fifty Million Gears. Go to the Auction. Buy the Key. Bring it to me."
"And if Aurum outbids me?"
"Aurum is the house," the Baron said. "He doesn't bid; he manipulates. But he respects the rules of the Auction. If you win the hammer, the item is yours. Do whatever it takes."
The Baron leaned in close.
"Do not fail me, Dante. Grist failed me, and he is dog food. Valerius failed Gorm, and he is a refugee. I do not tolerate failure."
Dante pocketed the envelope. He felt the weight of the Baron's gaze—the gaze of a man who planned to eat his heart.
"I'll get your Key, Baron."
"Good," the Baron said, sipping his drink. "Dismissed. And Dante?"
Dante paused at the door.
"Yes?"
"Next time you want to read a book," the Baron said, his eyes flashing cold, "ask. Or I might mistake you for a burglar and shoot you."
Dante nodded. He walked out.
His back was soaked in cold sweat.
Dante walked briskly down the hall, past the Praetorians, and stepped into the elevator. The doors closed.
"Silas," Dante exhaled, leaning against the metal wall, his legs shaking. "I need fresh underwear."
"Did he catch you?"
"He suspects. But he gave me fifty million gears and a ticket to the biggest party in the city."
Dante looked at his mechanical hand. He had the location of the Second Axiom stored in Prime's memory. He had the Baron's funding. And now, he had a ticket to meet the third player in this game.
Aurum.
"Get the car ready, Silas," Dante said, the Silvergrin forming a sharp, predatory smile. "We're going to the Gold District. And tell Valerius to suit up. He needs to look like a bodyguard, not a mechanic."
"We are going to an auction?"
"No," Dante corrected. "We're going to a robbery. We just happen to be paying for it with someone else's money."