The Imperial Central Bank of Aethelgard was a fortress not of stone, but of marble and silence. It sat in the center of the financial district, a temple to the god of Coin, guarded not by soldiers, but by Golems of solid brass and the terrifying precision of Gnomish actuaries.
Valeria walked up the steps, the morning sun glinting off the Duke of Ironclad's signet ring on her finger. Flanking her were Kael and Ignis. The others had been sent back to the estate to prepare the armory.
"This is the most dangerous building in the city," Ignis whispered, eyeing the Golems. "Soldiers kill you. Bankers erase you."
"Good," Valeria said, clutching the Red Tear in her hand. "Because I'm here to commit a massacre."
They entered the main lobby. It was a cavernous hall of polished granite. Tellers sat behind high counters protected by anti-magic glass.
Valeria walked straight to the Senior Accounts Manager, a Gnomish woman with spectacles thick enough to stop an arrow.
"I am Valeria of House Vespera," Valeria announced, her voice echoing in the hush. "And I am here to audit the Garnett Trust."
The Gnome looked down at her ledger, bored. "The Garnett Trust is under the stewardship of Duke Vespera until the heir comes of age or marries. Do you have an appointment?"
"I don't need an appointment," Valeria said. "I have the Key."
She placed the Red Tear on the counter. She pressed the hidden latch, revealing the glowing authorization crystal inside.
The Gnome's boredom vanished. She stared at the crystal. She tapped a rune on her desk.
"Manager Thrain!" she shouted. "Code Violet!"
A heavy stone door behind the counter ground open. An elderly Gnome with a beard tucked into his belt bustled out. He looked at the crystal, then at Valeria.
"Lady Elise?" Thrain asked, squinting. "We were told you were... indisposed. In the North."
"I was," Valeria said coldly. "My caretakers were negligent. But I have returned. And I am invoking the 'Mismanagement Clause' of my mother's will."
She pointed to Ignis.
"My legal counsel will explain."
Ignis stepped forward, placing a stack of documents on the counter—records of the missing stipend, the sale of the Oakhaven grain, and the unauthorized loans Duke Vespera had taken out against the Trust.
"According to Imperial Banking Code 77," Ignis recited with relish, "if a Trustee uses the Beneficiary's assets to secure personal loans without consent, the Beneficiary may demand immediate liquidation of said loans to restore the principal."
Thrain sweated. "Liquidate the Duke's loans? My Lady, Duke Vespera has borrowed heavily against the Garnett Trust to fund... various ventures. If we call those loans in today, he will be insolvent."
"That," Valeria said, leaning forward, her violet eyes flashing, "is the point."
She pushed the crystal forward.
"Freeze it all, Thrain. The Trust. The Vespera Accounts. The Dowry Fund. If a single copper coin leaves his vault today, I will sue this bank for complicity in theft."
Thrain looked at the crystal. It was the highest level of authorization. He had no choice.
"Very well," Thrain sighed. He turned to his clerks. "Trigger the recall. Freeze the Vespera assets. And send a courier to the Duke. Tell him... tell him his credit has been declined."
The Vespera Estate
Duke Vespera sat in his study, staring at the empty velvet box on his desk.
Isolde was sobbing on the sofa, clutching a pillow. Her neck was bare.
"I didn't lose it!" Isolde wailed. "It was on my neck when I went to sleep! Someone came into my room, Daddy! A ghost!"
"Shut up, you stupid girl," the Duke snapped, running a hand through his grey hair. "It wasn't a ghost. It was her."
He looked at the window, toward the distant Ironclad Estate.
"Elise. She came into my house. She stole the key."
The door to the study burst open. A servant ran in, pale as a sheet.
"Your Grace! A courier from the Bank! And... Highmaster Garius is here."
The Duke's stomach dropped.
Garius strode into the room. The Highmaster of the Beast Taming Guild looked ragged. He hadn't slept. His eyes were wild, searching for a lifeline.
"Varg is gone," Garius hissed, slamming his hands onto the Duke's desk. "The Emperor has him. I need the money, Vespera. Now. I need to pay off the Vizier's personal guard to intervene before the trial starts. I need fifty thousand gold marks."
"I... I was just arranging the transfer," the Duke stammered. He reached for his checkbook.
"Sir," the servant interrupted, holding out a sealed letter from the Bank. "The courier said this is urgent."
The Duke grabbed the letter. He tore it open.
He read it.
The blood drained from his face. He sank into his chair.
"What is it?" Garius demanded.
"Frozen," the Duke whispered. "It's all frozen. The Trust. The estate accounts. Even my personal vault."
He looked up at Garius, terror in his eyes.
"She triggered the recall. I have nothing. I can't pay you."
Garius stared at him. The silence in the room was deafening.
"You useless old fool," Garius whispered.
"I can fix it!" the Duke pleaded. "Give me a week! I can sell the land! I can sell Isolde's jewelry!"
"We don't have a week!" Garius roared. "The Tribunal is in an hour!"
He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling.
"Where are you going?" the Duke cried.
"To the Court," Garius said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "If I cannot buy my way out... then I will have to cut my way out."
He left the room.
The Duke looked at the letter in his hand. He looked at his sobbing daughter. He realized, with a crushing finality, that the girl he had exiled to die in the snow had just killed him without lifting a sword.
The Ironclad Estate
The armory of the Ironclad Estate had been untouched for years, but the gear within was timeless.
Valeria stood before a mirror in the hallway. She had shed the midnight-blue dress. Now, she wore armor.
It wasn't heavy plate; she didn't have the strength for it. It was a cuirass of black leather reinforced with silver-steel plates, fitted over a tunic of Iron-Silk. It was the armor of a Duelist. On her hip hung a rapier she had pulled from the Library, a blade of pure crystalline glass that was sharper than steel.
She turned to look at her husbands.
They were transformed.
Kael wore the armor of a High Guard - gold plate that covered his chest and shoulders, leaving his tattooed arms bare. He wore no helmet. His golden hair was tied back, revealing the sharp, regal lines of his face. He didn't look like a slave. He looked like the Sun-King the Emperor had named him.
Ignis wore robes of deep crimson battle-weave, reinforced with chainmail. He held a staff of blackened oak topped with a ruby. The monocle was gone, replaced by protective goggles.
Silas wore light scout armor - grey leather that blended with the shadows, studded with silver spikes. Two short swords hung at his waist.
Caspian wore a tunic of shark-skin leather that shimmered like water, holding a trident made of blue steel.
Lucian wore a vest of light archer's padding, a quiver of arrows on his back that fletched with his own molted phoenix feathers.
"We look like a war party," Silas grinned, testing the edge of his blade.
"We are a war party," Kael rumbled. "Today, we do not hide. Today, we hunt."
Valeria walked to them. She looked at each of them in turn.
"The Emperor has promised us a fair trial," Valeria said. "But Garius is desperate. A trapped beast is dangerous. Expect a trap. Expect violence."
"I hope for it," Caspian said, his eyes dark. "I have not bitten a Highmaster in a long time."
Valeria pulled out the scroll - the Consort Contract they had signed the night before. She placed it in her breast pocket, right over her heart.
"Remember," she said. "We walk in as outlaws. We walk out as citizens."
She opened the door.
Outside, the sun was high. The bells of the city were ringing.
"To the Court," Valeria ordered.
The Hall of Judgment
The Imperial High Court was a coliseum of justice. Stone tiers rose in a circle around a central pit of white sand. The gallery was packed. Every noble, merchant, and guildmaster in Aethelgard was there. Rumors had spread like wildfire - the "Audit," the missing Vespera heir, the Hybrid Tiger.
In the Royal Box sat Emperor Aurelius, draped in gold, looking bored but with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Beside him stood the Royal Vizier, a man in purple robes who was whispering frantically into the Emperor's ear.
On the floor of the pit stood Highmaster Garius. He stood alone, his face pale but composed. He wore the ceremonial red armor of his station.
"Highmaster Garius," the Vizier announced, his voice magically amplified. "You stand accused of Gross Misconduct, Illegal Necromancy, and Treason against the Crown. Who is your accuser?"
The great bronze doors at the end of the pit groaned open.
Valeria stepped into the light.
She didn't look at the crowd. She walked with a steady, rhythmic pace. Behind her, in a V-formation, walked the five husbands.
The crowd gasped.
They saw the Golden Tiger. The Dragon. The Wolf. The Shark. The Phoenix.
They didn't see chains. They saw weapons.
Valeria stopped ten paces from Garius. She looked him in the eye.
"I am Valeria of Oakhaven," she announced, her voice clear and cold. "Formerly Elise Vespera. I am the Proxy of House Ironclad. I am the Duchess of the Garnett Trust. And I am the accuser."
Garius sneered. "You are a girl playing dress-up with stolen pets. Where is your proof? Where is this... witness you claimed to have?"
He looked at the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, this is a farce. She claims to have Commander Varg, yet she stands alone. Varg is dead. She killed him to cover her lies."
The Emperor smiled. He leaned forward.
"Titus," the Emperor said softly. "Open the box."
From the shadows beneath the Royal Box, Lord Commander Titus wheeled out a heavy iron chair covered in a black cloth.
He whipped the cloth away.
The crowd screamed.
Sitting in the chair was Commander Varg. He was pale, thin, and looked terrified, but he was alive. And more importantly, the Mana-Siphon Rune had been removed. His aura flared weak but undeniable.
Garius stumbled back as if struck. "Impossible..."
"He is very alive," Valeria said. "And very eager to discuss the Black Legion."
She raised her hand. Lucian flew down from the rafters, dropping a heavy black book into her hands.
The Black Ledger.
"And just in case he forgets the details," Valeria said, slamming the book onto the prosecutor's table, "I brought his diary."
She opened the book. She looked up at the Royal Box, locking eyes with the Vizier.
"Shall we begin with page one?" Valeria asked. "The list of bribes paid to the Royal Council?"
The Vizier went white.
The trial of the century had begun. And Valeria had brought a guillotine.