I shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it as I took a deep breath. My heart was still pounding from all the running, but at least I made it back unnoticed. The light from the open window shone through the room as I took my look around.

Kael lay sprawled across the bed, completely wrapped up in a blanket like a cocoon. His soft, steady breathing told me he was still in deep sleep.

I sighed. Of course, he’s still sleeping.

Not wanting to wake him just yet, I turned and left the room, making my way to Sylas and Mira’s room instead. I knocked on their door, and after a moment, a soft voice responded.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” I said, still catching my breath.

“Come in.”

I pushed open the door to find a room similar to mine, though slightly more organized. Two beds were positioned side by side, facing the rectangular window that overlooked the bustling street below. Sylas and Mira were both lying upside down on their beds, their heads dangling off the edge as they stared at the book in front of them.

Their robes were neatly hung over a small wooden rack, while their wands rested on the desk behind them. They looked… comfortable. Almost too comfortable compared to what I had just gone through.

I stepped closer, glancing at the book they were reading. Sylas let out a long sigh before flipping a page.

“We’ve been reading this thing since morning,” she muttered. “And honestly? There’s nothing new in here. It’s all just fundamental magic theory—stuff I already learned years ago under your mom.”

Mira nodded, rubbing her temple. “Same here. I already learned this from my adoptive parents. We should’ve bought something more useful… like a guide on monsters or terrains around this continent. Or even other continents.”

They both sighed in unison, clearly disappointed with their purchase.

Then, as if remembering I was still here, they turned their heads toward me.

“So, what do you need?” Sylas asked, tilting her head.

I got straight to the point. “I need you both to come to my room. We’re waiting for Kaldor to get back, and then we’ll talk.”

They exchanged glances, a hint of confusion flickering across their faces. But they didn’t question it. Instead, they closed the book, stretched their arms, and got up.

As we stepped out into the hallway, we spotted Kaldor coming up the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck while carrying his massive shield on his back and his hammer in his right hand. He let out a wide yawn, clearly exhausted, but the slight grin on his face told me enough.

He must have crushed every adventurer who challenged him at the guild.

“What are you guys up to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smirked. “Guess we don’t have to wait anymore. Come on, we need to talk.”

Kaldor’s expression turned serious as he followed us back to my room.

I pushed open the door, and immediately, we were greeted by the sound of loud snoring.

Kael, still wrapped up in his blanket, had barely moved an inch.

I sighed. I feel a little bad about this, but...

I turned to Sylas and Mira, gesturing toward Kael. “You know what to do.”

The two girls exchanged mischievous grins.

Sylas stepped forward, conjuring a small ice shard in her palm, letting droplets of freezing water slowly drip onto Kael’s face.

The reaction was immediate.

Kael jolted upright like a cat that had just been dunked in cold water, flailing wildly as if he were fighting off invisible attackers.

“WHAT THE HELL—?!” His voice cracked mid-yell, making him sound like a boy hitting his first puberty crisis.

Before he could fully grasp the betrayal he had just suffered, Mira took a deep breath and blew a sharp gust of wind directly at him.

The cold air blasted through his now-soaked clothes.

Kael let out a strangled shriek. “GAHHH—WHY?! WHAT DID I DO?!”

He scrambled backward, pulling his blanket around him like a traumatized old man, his eyes wide with disbelief. His entire body trembled, whether from rage, cold, or the sheer betrayal of friendship, I wasn’t sure.

Sylas crossed her arms, her expression completely neutral. “You were taking too long to wake up.”

Mira giggled, leaning on her hip. “Besides, this is payback for last time.”

Kael opened his mouth, about to argue, but then sneezed so hard he nearly toppled over. He groaned, rubbing his nose. “Didn’t you say we could rest…?” His words were broken up by another violent sneeze.

I sighed, crossing my arms. “Yeah… I did say that. But something happened.”

Kael sniffled, still bundled in his blanket. “Something important enough to risk my life over frostbite?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”

Everyone fell silent, finally taking in the seriousness of the situation.

I took a deep breath.

And then, I began to tell them everything I had overheard in that bunker.

"Arthur?" Kael repeated, his brow furrowed. "Who’s that?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "He’s... someone I’ve known since I was a kid. Dangerous. Ruthless. He’s responsible for a lot of the pain I went through—destroyed my home, and my family. He was one of the people who led the raid on my village."

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. I had long buried the memories, but now they resurfaced, raw and unrelenting. The smell of smoke. The crackling of flames. The cries of the dying.

Kaldor crossed his arms, his expression dark. "And what’s he after now?"

"Nothing small," I replied, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. "He’s trying to claim the entire continent."

Silence filled the room, thick with tension. I saw Sylas's face pale, but her trembling hands weren’t from fear. When our eyes met, I recognized the emotion burning behind them—hatred, cold and precise, like a blade sharpened over years of resentment. It was like staring into a mirror of my own rage. I gave her a small nod, acknowledging the weight we both carried.

"Alright," Kael said, setting his dagger down with a soft clink and meeting my gaze with renewed determination. "So what's the plan?"

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "First, we need to stop his next raid before it happens. But it’s not as simple as just alerting the authorities."

Mira sighed, snapping her spellbook shut. "The guards would take it seriously. They’d mobilize faster than we could."

"Yeah, but they’d need proof," I pointed out. "And right now, all we have are rumors and hunches. If Arthur has informants in the guild—and I wouldn’t put it past him—they could just sweep this under the rug."

"Other adventurers, maybe?" Kaldor suggested, resting his hand on his hammer. "A few strong parties could turn the tide in our favor."

"Maybe," I said, frowning. “But Arthur’s reach is wide. Some adventurers could be on his payroll, or he could be using them as spies. We need a plan that keeps him guessing."

Kael let out an irritated sigh, rubbing his temples. "If only the examiners were still here. All of them had to go on that damn dungeon excavation, and every single one was A-rank."

Sylas groaned, slumping back against the chair. "Yeah, what kind of luck is that? Soren alone could probably wipe out half of Arthur’s forces if he wanted to."

"And Laire too," Mira added, crossing her arms. "We might hadn’t fought her, but we’ve seen her fight. She’s ridiculous."

I nodded, remembering the small glimpses I had seen of their abilities. Judging from Soren’s skill—and comparing that to Arthur’s strength from the last time I saw him in the raid on my village—Soren might actually be stronger. That wasn’t even mentioning the other examiners, all elites in their own right.

"But too bad they aren’t here," Kaldor muttered, shaking his head. "Instead, we’re stuck handling this mess on our own."

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Yeah, and we don’t have time to sit around waiting for them to get back. We need to act now."

"Then what?" Kael asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "We can't exactly march into the guild and demand a full investigation when we’ve got no proof."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Yeah, which means we have to figure this out ourselves. So let’s go through our options."

"Alerting the guards is the most straightforward," Mira said. "We go to them, tell them everything, and let them handle it."

Kael snorted. "And then what? Hope they take us seriously. We don’t have proof. For all they know, we could be making it up."

"Or worse," Sylas added. "Arthur could have people inside the guard. If we talk to the wrong person, he’ll know we’re onto him."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Then what about other adventurers?" Kaldor suggested, resting his hand on his hammer. "If we can get a few strong parties to help, we could turn the tide in our favor."

I shook my head. "Arthur’s influence isn’t just limited to the underworld. Some adventurers could be on his payroll, or at least feeding him information. We don’t know who to trust."

"So what then?" Kael asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "We can’t just sit here."

I frowned, deep in thought. If we couldn't go through the guards or trust adventurers, we needed another way to push the guild into action. Something that forced them to act but didn't put us directly in the spotlight.

Then, the idea struck—risky, bold, and more than a little reckless. A slow grin spread across my face.

“We send letters to the guild headquarters, make it look like the bandits themselves are warning about the raids. If we make it look like an insider job, the guild will have to take us seriously.”

The room went silent. Then—

Kael let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So... fraud? You want us to fake being bandits?"

Sylas, who had been mid-sip of water, nearly choked. "Wait, wait—are you seriously suggesting we lie to the guild? Duke, that’s insane! If they find out, we’ll be the ones in trouble!"

Mira tapped her fingers against her arm, considering it. "Not necessarily. If we’re careful, the guild won’t suspect us. But if this backfires… yeah, we could be accused of misleading an official organization."

Kaldor, who had been quiet until now, nodded. "Not to mention, if we mess this up, Arthur might figure out that someone’s onto him. He could change his plans—or worse, come after us instead."

Sylas groaned. "Okay, so everyone sees the problem with this plan except Duke? Great."

I raised a hand, trying to calm them down. "Look, I get it—this isn't exactly by-the-book. But think about it. We don’t have proof, we don’t have Soren or Laire to back us up, and we can’t trust half the people in the guild. This is the only way to get them to take action before the raid happens."

Kael rubbed his chin, his skeptical frown easing slightly. "...I mean, if we pull it off right, it would force the guild to mobilize."

Mira sighed, shaking her head. "I hate that this actually makes sense."

Sylas groaned louder, burying her face in her hands. "I really don’t want to get arrested for fake bandit threats."

Kaldor chuckled. "Then we just have to make sure we don’t get caught."

I smirked. "Exactly. We keep it vague, and cryptic. Just enough to send a chill down their spine, but not enough to link it back to us."

Mira tilted her head, thinking. "...If we do this, we have to space it out. Too many letters, and they’ll start getting suspicious."

"Three," I said, already planning it in my head. "One every four days. We each take turns writing apart. In between, we gather people we can trust. Allies we’ve made, people who owe us favors."

Kaldor cracked his knuckles, grinning. "I’ve got a few blacksmith friends who’d be more than willing to lend a hand."

Kael held up his dagger, an excited glint in his eyes. "I’ll handle the first letter. Something short and ominous."

Sylas still looked skeptical but exhaled in defeat. "...Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."

I chuckled. "Deal."

The next morning, we sent out the first letter, penned in Kael’s steady hand. The parchment was worn, slightly tattered at the edges to make it look like it had been handled roughly. The ink was smudged in places as if written hastily by someone in distress.

The message read:

"The flames of war will start in the eastern plains."

Simple. Direct. And chilling enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine.

Over the next few days, we split up, each taking on our roles to search for information or allies we could trust.

Sylas spent her time in the bustling markets and taverns, her sharp gaze catching snippets of conversation from passersby and merchants. She often cloaked herself in small, illusionary spells—minor distortions that softened her presence, making people’s eyes slide past her as if she were nothing more than part of the background.

She moved like a ghost between crowded stalls, pausing by fruit vendors pretending to examine apples while actually listening to heated conversations between merchants about rising tensions in the city. In the dimly lit taverns, she sat quietly at the corner tables, pretending to sip from a mug while focusing on the drunken ramblings of adventurers who might have unknowingly brushed shoulders with Arthur’s men.

When she wasn’t eavesdropping, she actively sought out the few mages she knew. Some were reluctant to speak, wary of getting involved, but a handful proved useful. One older enchanter—an acquaintance of hers from years ago—let slip that a few unfamiliar spellcasters had been seen passing through the city’s south district, purchasing rare alchemical ingredients usually used for more than just simple potions. She made note of every detail, knowing even the smallest clue could become crucial.

Of course, she had to be careful. More than once, she felt the weight of a stranger’s eyes lingering on her for too long, and she had to slip into an alley or vanish into a crowd. The city had become dangerous for those asking too many questions.

Mira took a different approach. Instead of lurking in the shadows, she moved openly, speaking directly to the people. She walked through the city’s quieter quarters, where merchants and artisans lived and worked. These were the same people she had helped before, whether by fixing a broken wagon with a minor spell or treating an injury with a quick healing touch.

Her warmth disarmed suspicion, and her past good deeds paid off. A baker she’d once helped spoke of strange men passing through his shop, never buying anything, only watching the streets like they were waiting for something. A carpenter mentioned that certain storage sheds had been cleared out near the docks—perhaps in preparation for something bigger.

Even street kids, often overlooked by most, became part of her growing network. She found two brothers—barely older than ten—who knew the city’s hidden paths and shortcuts like the back of their hands. With a promise of food and a few coins, they agreed to watch certain streets for anything unusual. These children were invisible to the city’s elite, making them perfect spies in a place where even whispers carried weight.

But there were challenges. Some people were too scared to talk. Others warned her that asking too many questions could put a target on her back. And she could feel the shift—something was brewing, and the city was holding its breath.

Kael, ever the strategist, took his mission to the guild halls and inns, blending in seamlessly with adventurers, mercenaries, and travelers. He never pushed too hard, never asked direct questions—only spoke in hints and let others do the talking.

He’d sit at a table with a group of mid-ranked adventurers, casually throwing out, “Feels like the city’s getting tense, doesn’t it? Rumors flying all over the place.” Then he’d wait. Let them fill the silence.

Some people were clueless, but others let valuable details slip. One adventurer—half-drunk—mentioned that certain groups had been hired for ‘private security’ jobs but refused to say who had paid them. Another whispered that there were more eyes in the guild than usual, watching people come and go.

After gathering enough pieces, Kael started marking safe zones and danger zones on a rough map of the city. The districts where Arthur’s influence was stronger, the areas where potential allies could be found.

But not everyone was easily fooled. One particularly sharp adventurer, a woman with a keen gaze, called him out after watching him weave through different conversations.

“You’re fishing,” she remarked with a knowing smirk, arms crossed. “Better be careful, kid. Keep poking around, and you’ll get noticed.”

Kael only laughed it off, but he took the warning seriously.

Kaldor’s approach was the most straightforward—he walked the streets as if he belonged there, because in many ways, he did. He talked to the guards patrolling the districts, the blacksmiths hammering away in their forges, and the shopkeepers selling their wares. His sheer presence made people trust him, and they spoke more freely to him than they would to any of us.

In the guards’ barracks, he listened carefully as soldiers grumbled about their patrol shifts changing without explanation. Some weren’t happy about it, but orders were orders. A few guards hinted at tensions rising among their ranks—some captains were acting strangely, like they knew something the lower ranks didn’t.

Among the blacksmiths, he learned that a few unusual orders had come in—more weapons than usual, and all being bought up quickly. Someone was stockpiling. That alone was enough to send a chill through us.

And the shopkeepers… well, they were the lifeblood of the city. They noticed when familiar customers started acting differently, when certain supplies were bought in bulk, when strange men loitered outside their stores without buying anything. One merchant, an elderly man who had known Kaldor since we first arrived in the city, muttered something that stuck with him.

“There’s a sickness in the air, lad. Feels like we’re all just waiting for something bad to happen.”

While they worked on the ground, I took to the rooftops whenever I could. From above, I could track movements, see who entered and left certain buildings, and get a better sense of how the city was shifting.

One afternoon, I spotted a small group of men sneaking into a side alley, clearly avoiding attention. I didn’t recognize them, but the way they moved screamed ‘trained fighters.’ They vanished behind a nondescript door, and I made a mental note of the location. Another possible stronghold for Arthur?

Of course, my time on the rooftops wasn’t always smooth. One particularly embarrassing moment involved me perching on a balcony railing right above an old woman’s window. I hadn’t realized she was home until I heard a grumbled curse.

Then came the bucket of water.

"Get off my roof, you troublemaker!" she shouted, her voice hoarse but filled with fire.

Spluttering, I wiped water from my face and gave her a sheepish wave. “Sorry, ma’am!” I leaped to the left, but not before her broom came swinging out the window, barely missing my shoulder. I grinned, feeling like a kid caught stealing bread.

After days of careful planning, listening, and observing, we finally began to understand who we could trust and who we should avoid. It was slow work, but our network was growing—small pockets of allies scattered through the city, each one ready to help in whatever way they could.

After twelve days, all three letters were sent. Yet, the city remained quiet. No uproar, no mobilization of guards, not even a single suspicious glance our way. It was as if our letters had simply vanished.

Then, one evening, as I slipped into a narrow alleyway, I heard voices—a harsh, angry tone that made me freeze in my tracks.

“Do you think I wouldn’t find out?” The voice was low, sharp as a blade’s edge. I recognized it instantly. Arthur.

A shiver ran down my spine. I had never heard him sound like this before—like a predator cornering his prey.

"You’re a traitor," he spat, his voice dripping with quiet fury. "Sending letters to the guild, trying to warn them?"

The other voice, a man’s, trembled. “Arthur, I didn’t—I swear, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

I barely had time to process what was happening before a sickening sound filled the air—a wet, heavy thud, followed by a gurgling choke. I didn’t need to look to know what had happened. My stomach twisted, my blood turning cold as I stared at the darkened ground, willing myself not to make a sound.

Arthur had killed him. Just like that.

I forced my breath to steady, every instinct in my body screaming at me to back away. Slowly, carefully, I shifted my weight, taking a single step backward—

My foot hit something. A loose stone. The sound, though faint, shattered the heavy silence like glass.

Panic surged through me. I turned to flee, but before I could move, something slammed into my back, shoving me hard against the cold, damp wall of the alley. The air rushed from my lungs, my vision blurring for a second.

A hand clamped around my throat—not choking, but firm, pressing just enough to remind me who was in control.

I barely had time to react before Arthur's face was inches from mine, his eyes glinting like a wolf’s in the darkness. Even in the dim light, I could see the way his expression twisted—cold, calculating, like he was deciding whether I was worth killing next.

For a horrible, breathless moment, I thought he would.

"You really shouldn't be here." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it coiled around me like a snake, each syllable laced with something dark and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, keeping my face still, my body rigid.

Arthur’s grip on my throat didn’t tighten, but his fingers twitched slightly—as if he was considering crushing my windpipe right then and there.

"Nosy people tend to disappear in this city," he murmured, tilting his head as he studied me. "Especially ones who stick their necks where they don’t belong."

I didn’t dare speak. Any wrong move, any wrong word, and I knew I wouldn’t walk out of this alley alive.

His thumb dragged slightly across my skin before he finally—finally—let go. I barely held back the gasp of air I so desperately wanted to take.

"Stay out of business that doesn’t concern you," he whispered, the smirk on his face slow and deliberate. But his eyes told a different story—there was no amusement there, no smug arrogance. Just cold intent. A warning.

He lingered for another heartbeat too long, then turned, his figure vanishing into the night as if he had never been there at all.

It was only when I was sure he was gone that I finally let out a shaky breath, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

He hadn’t recognized me.

I was lucky. Too lucky.

Because if he had known who I was, I wouldn’t have walked away in one piece.