Bang!

Karl hit the floor but quickly rolled, gripping his sickle as he turned and swung it. He knew the woman would be right behind him. Sure enough, she flew into the room at a whistling, near-sonic speed. Karl grinned. His sickle was inches from her face.

But the woman raised her hand, and the sickle bounced off as if it had struck a soft barrier.

"Attacking me when we’ve just met?" The woman cast a piercing gaze, casually waving her free hand. Karl’s body suddenly jerked forward, as though all control had been stripped from him. He resisted but found himself powerless, standing face-to-face with the woman as she scrutinized him.

Karl hated eyes that wanted to figure him out. But given the situation, he knew he had no choice but to remain calm. I hope this isn’t about me not saving the girl. But then again, there wasn’t any law against what he had done. If anything, the laws prohibited using Sanguine powers when not in kefna. So, if it came down to it, he wouldn’t be defenseless. Still, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Feeling the invisible force grip him, Karl wore his solemn demeanor like cloth. In this situation, showing any further weakness would be dangerous. Lacking any position of strength, he would have to compensate with boldness.

The woman's piercing eyes regarded him for a moment, then she said, "I saw you in a dream." Her voice was soft.

Karl remained silent, his expression unreadable. What does she mean by ‘dream’? Is that part of her Sanguine ability? He briefly thought of Tyro. Did she divine me? So now what? Is she going to ask for what everyone else has? He was beginning to feel like an assassin for hire.

Just then, the force holding him in place faded—his body becoming his again. He eyed the woman cautiously. Why did she release me? Does she want me to trust her? Karl couldn’t tell if this was all part of some elaborate ploy to manipulate him.

The woman stood there in silence for a moment before finally saying, "My name is Vin."

Not a noble. This was a relief. Despite the small trust he had developed in Anette and Fredrick’s words, Karl still hoped to avoid any connection with nobles. If his…Karl’s identity were revealed, it would lead to his death. Freedom and power first.

Vin regarded him with curiosity, a smile seeming to tug at the side of her lips. "You don’t seem like a mutant. A heretic? An inhuman? So, what exactly are you?"

Her words didn’t stir much in Karl, though he felt a slight tension building. He remained silent, waiting for her to say more.

Vin frowned, shook her head, and walked past Karl, unconcerned about the possibility of being attacked from behind. She clearly saw him as weak. For some reason, Karl felt an urge to kill her.

She sat cross-legged in the center of the room and pulled out a piece of torn cloth. Glancing at it, then at him, she said, "I need your help with something."

Here it comes.

"We need to find the owner of this cloth," Vin stated.

Karl frowned. Find someone? That was a first. He regarded her for a moment before asking, "Who?"

"The driver of the carriage," Vin said simply, her attention returning to the cloth in her hands. She didn’t look at him again. Karl watched her for a moment, already familiar with how these situations usually played out. She would speak, and he would follow through—because, without power, he was like a stick, aimlessly wandering, waiting for someone to wield it.

Power first, then he could evolve into a sharp sword.

His eyes drifted over Vin’s form. Her hands bore the distinctive marks of a Freehand and a Soundhand. In truth, these weren’t inherently special abilities but rather a result of the unique customs of the Clegane people. Their women were meant to keep their left hand covered, while the right hand remained bare and adorned with silver accessories. Perhaps in all the empire, they were the most recognizable people—aside from the Maw, of course.

She glanced at him suddenly. "You're very bizarre."

Karl frowned slightly. Did she figure something out? He remained calm—not that her words stirred him much. Ever since she had taken him, Karl had considered the possibility that she knew something about him. He had wondered if she might be part of one of the affiliated families Fredrick had mentioned or even a member of the Mysteries school of thought. After all, he didn’t know much about their branch, so perhaps controlling flight was among their abilities.

He had also considered Tyro or someone from the Poison Fang gang, but one by one, he eliminated those possibilities.

I’ve done and met a lot of people in just a few days, Karl thought briefly.

He was pulled back to the present when Vin asked, "Do you happen to have bizarre eyes?"

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Karl did not respond. What was that? He wanted to ask aloud, but that would show incompetence, and he didn’t want to reveal any vulnerability—especially not to a woman who had essentially kidnapped him.

She regarded him for a while longer before shrugging. "I guess not." She rubbed her head in frustration. "By the Pure, damn this!"

By the Pure? Karl was confused. Isn’t she from Clegane Knight City? Shouldn’t she be more inclined toward the Warrior God? Or could she actually be Canenese? Fredrick had mentioned how easily the Canenese were influenced by trends. One such trend was keeping diaries and using clever-sounding words coined by the famous Raoul Andronicus. Was she one of those trend-followers?

Still, Karl couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she truly was Clegane but had changed her faith—rare, but not impossible.

"You know something strange?" Vin said, glancing at him again.

He didn’t respond.

"The carriage was empty, and there were signs of a struggle. That’s where this came from." She raised the cloth. "This was cut during the resistance."

So what’s her plan? Why is she investigating this? Karl suddenly froze. Could she be an official Sanguine? Maybe an invigilator? He studied her carefully—there was no monocle. That doesn’t mean much. According to Fredrick, many Sanguine organizations were operating under the empire, some so secretive that merely knowing about them was dangerous. He recalled the Unseen Guards. Were they one such organization?

"Chances are, he was taken by a gang who will soon demand a ransom," Vin said.

She’s using big words. Karl was beginning to suspect that this woman was quite learned. Who was she?

"However, it’s likely not a gang," Vin continued. "Judging by the state of the carriage, he wasn’t very wealthy."

Figured out his worth from the carriage? As far as Karl knew, most coachmen weren’t the owners of their carriages. They were hired drivers, trained by the School of Commons, and thus couldn’t customize their rides. So how had she come to that conclusion?

Vin ran her fingers over the cloth, folding it tightly in her hand. She looked directly at Karl. "I need to divine what happened."

Karl’s interest piqued. Did she say divine? Was he finally going to learn about the so-called mysticism arts? How fortunate. Yet, oddly, Karl frowned. He hadn't expected that.

Vin watched him for a moment. "Do you know about the mysticism arts?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity as if she’d be surprised if he didn’t know. Why did everyone seem to assume he knew this?

Karl didn’t like where this was going. If he answered dishonestly, she might refuse to explain anything, but if he admitted ignorance, she might think him incompetent and weak—easy to control.

He stayed silent, but Vin wasn’t letting it go. She continued waiting for an answer. Why won’t she just drop it? Karl thought, suppressing a sigh.

"Yes," he lied.

"You're lying," Vin said, narrowing her eyes. Her expression turned to mild disappointment. Karl gritted his teeth internally. How did she know?

He had made sure not to reveal any tells or outward signs. Can she read my mind? His frown deepened at the possibility. Is she from the Thought Faction?

"Just so you know," she continued, glancing back at the cloth clenched in her hand, "many might assume I can read your mind, but I don’t. I simply know when you’re lying."

A power that detects lies? Karl didn’t like that at all. While he preferred to remain silent in most situations, lying was often a necessity, especially when it came to defending his competence. Another ability I’ll have to learn to guard against, he reminded himself.

Vin turned away, focusing back on the cloth. "I’m going to use High Astra to find him," she said. After a pause, she added, "High Astra is used for divination. Other languages, like Draconis, can also be used."

First time hearing about this, Karl thought, now fully attentive, ready to learn more from her.

The woman sat with her legs crossed, eyes closed, muttering something under her breath. The words were strange, layered as if they were being spoken by multiple voices at once, echoing throughout the room. Karl felt a sudden wave of weakness just from hearing it—like his strength was slowly being drained away.

Then, an eerie mist began to seep into the room. It didn’t seem to originate from any specific place but rather appeared out of thin air, gradually filling the space. The mist was faint, not as dense as the thick fog that often engulfed the world at night—though Karl had heard rumors that the mist rarely appeared in the Western Dominion.

But the strange phenomenon didn’t stop there. Soon, black markings began to form on Vin’s skin, snaking from her face down to her bare arm. The markings were like living things, shifting and moving as though they had a life of their own. This continued for only a few moments before the mist dissipated, the markings faded, and the sense of weakness left Karl’s body.

Vin opened her eyes. "We need to go to the slums."

I suppose I can't really refuse, Karl thought but didn’t voice his thoughts aloud.

_____________

Aurelian woke to the bustling sounds of passersby clamoring for the train. He hadn’t found a place to sleep and had ended up at the Waygate station. Canopied by a large tent held up by four square stone pillars, he lay on a pew, watching the activity around him.

The pews were arranged in sections, lining both sides of the station. Ahead of him stood the train—a massive black structure, as if carved from stone, with sharp, precise edges and a narrow, pointed tip. The word train was a relatively new invention, coined by Raoul Andronicus. Beneath it, iron railings glided smoothly along the iron pathways, propelling it forward at great speed.

Red dust was falling steadily, gradually staining the metallic sheen of the train.

The sides of the train were adorned with special jewels, shining faintly with a dark white glow. The train’s doors were already open, guarded by several sub-humans. These beings had round faces and stood almost as tall as shard-bearers, though their arms were longer and more muscular. Aurelian wasn’t entirely sure what they were called, but he had heard people refer to them as "thugs" or "brutes."

These thugs, like the Newmans, were born of sanguines, but there was a key difference between the two. The thugs were an offshoot of the sacred human species, less intelligent but immensely strong—like the Titans of old, or perhaps akin to orcs? Though Aurelian had always suspected orcs were merely folk tales from the Solitude Epoch.

Still, the hornbreed often lent credibility to such claims.

He groaned as he stood, stretching his stiff limbs. With a quick thought, he activated his mind-invisibility, moving quietly beside a stone pillar and leaning against it. From there, he observed the flow of people entering and exiting the trains.

His eyes followed the sleek, sharp lines of the train’s body toward the front, then further ahead. Some distance away stood the waygate: a massive stone structure, as tall as a two-story building. Its center rippled like black water, leading to the waypath—a safe route through the Astra.