Chapter 417

The broken glass from the reading lamp scattered across the desk reflected the glow of Tholm’s aura.Sat atop it, the ghostgrass pouch sat open, and even through its naturally dampened nature, Nick could sense the first hints of wrongness.

It was the first time he’d seen ghostgrass fail to contain something, but he wasn’t particularly surprised.

Tholm stared at the pouch for a long time, and Nick let him, sensing that the old man needed to process what had been revealed. The grief that had softened his features hardened them again, turning into resolve.

Without a word, the Archmage stood and walked to the far wall of his office. He pressed his hand against the seamless stone, and a heavy lock mechanism clicked, revealing a hidden vault. From within, Tholm withdrew a solid cubic box. It was made of a dull material, intricately banded with silver and etched with runes.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising that Tholm could do that, given his specialty, but since it was against the very nature of the material to be changed by magic, Nick was still impressed.

Returning to the desk, Tholm flipped the latches. The interior was lined with a pearly substance he had never seen before, but before he could ask, Tholm spoke up. "Ghostgrass is a fine stopgap for the field, Nicholas. But the natural world cannot tolerate the physical manifestation of the Abyss for long. Given another hour, every sensitive in the city would feel it.”

Deliberately avoiding contact with the pouch with his hands, Tholm used a strange telekinetic spell—something that felt far too complex for the little power it emitted—to lift it and place it in the center of the box, then slammed the lid shut and engaged the locks.

Instantly, the nauseating static in the room disappeared. The air felt fresh again, and Nick exhaled, suddenly aware he’d been holding his breath, as the tension drained from his shoulders.

“That should be proof enough," Nick forced himself to say. The adrenaline from the mind-dive still hummed in his veins, pushing him toward action, and he had the feeling that if they let this chance slip by, Hone would once again get off scot-free. "We know he’s worked with the Circle, and now we know he’s dealt with a Greater Demon. We have enough to assemble the Spellblades, and if we strike his quarters tonight before he realizes Marius was captured-”

“No."

That single word was enough to completely stop Nick in his tracks.

Tholm sank heavily into his chair, and the glow of his eyes fully faded, making him look like a tired old man. “Sit down, Nicholas," he commanded, and although Nick wanted to argue or slam his fist on the desk, respect for the Archmage and the understanding that he couldn’t move without his approval kept him in check.

"You have proven yourself more capable than any apprentice, and you have slain beasts that would terrify even full mages," he began, fixing Nick with a piercing stare. "But you are treating this like a puzzle to be solved. You think that because we have found the monster, we simply draw our swords and charge. Death is the only thing that awaits you at the end of this path.”

"He's a traitor, and he's consorting with demons," Nick countered. "What more justification do we need?”

"We need undeniable, public, and inescapable proof of his personal involvement," Tholm replied. He tapped a finger against the lead reliquary. "What does this box hold? A demonic bone. Does it have Elias Hone’s name carved into it? No. Did you see Elias Hone place it in the boy’s chest? No. You saw a shadow in a broken mind.”

Tholm leaned forward, folding his hands. "If I march the Spellblades into another Archmage's quarters based on a piece of evidence you recovered in the undercity, Hone will simply claim I planted it, that I am making a power grab, using the suspicions of the temples that everyone knows are false to eliminate a political rival. And the other Archmages will believe him.”

“Does he have them in his pocket?” Nick asked, suppressing the thrill of fear rushing through his spine.

Fortunately, Tholm shook his head, “No, but that doesn’t mean they will act. The Tower Master’s mandate demands unity before chaos.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelFire. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Nick blinked. The Tower Master had stayed far away from the whole situation, sitting atop the spire and watching everything unfold.

“Bluetear’s singular mandate is stability," Tholm explained, slipping back into his lecturing tone. "He maintains his absolute control by balancing the Archmages against each other, and fosters our rivalries to ensure no single faction becomes strong enough to challenge the overall peace. If we strike at Hone without an airtight confession or catching him red-handed, we will be disrupting the Tower Master’s carefully curated ecosystem.”

Tholm looked out the balcony doors, over the sprawling city with a bitter smile. "Breaking the peace on circumstantial evidence will only lead to Bluetear crushing us to restore the balance. Hone knows this and relies on it. We cannot overreach, for the monsters that live outside the dungeons do not have the courtesy to not hide behind others.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, processing the lesson. It was a hard truth to accept. He had the weapon that shattered Marius's mind right in front of him, yet it was politically useless.

"There is also the issue of collateral damage," Tholm added softly. "Elias is an Archmage whose specialty lies in war magic. His magical signature is woven into the foundational wards of the Tower, allowing him to cast any spell without fear of retaliation. The level of destruction he could cause if his shoulders are backed against the wall does not bear discussion, but trust me when I say that anything you’ve seen so far is nothing compared to what he’s capable of.”

Before Nick could respond, a crimson spark drifted through the open balcony doors. It fluttered like a moth, glowing with the distinct signature of fire mana, before landing gracefully on Tholm's desk, where it unfolded into a small piece of parchment.

It was unlike any other magic Nick had seen, but he could still recognize the structure as faith-based, giving him an idea of who had sent it.

Tholm picked it up without hesitation. As he read the burning script, the heavy lines on his face eased, and a genuine smile touched his lips. The paper crumbled into harmless ash moments later.

"It seems your conversation in the Plaza of the First Flame was very productive," Tholm said, looking at Nick with a hint of respect. "Bishop Umlaut has officially stopped the Tidemaster's Inquisition at the borders of the merchant district.”

Nick couldn't help but smile back. "He took the bait?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far," Tholm chuckled. “But yes, Umlaut has demanded a joint theological review of the proof of demonic taint before any priest of Ulter is permitted to cross a contested street. The Tidemaster is apparently furious, but even he cannot risk a holy war, meaning that they will be deadlocked in procedural arguments for days.”

"Which gives us a window," Nick said, already shifting gears. "The Duke still won't step in until the end of the week, but I expect he’ll begin reasserting his control now. If we can't attack Hone directly, we have to make him act, make him desperate enough to make a mistake.”

Looking at the reliquary holding the bone, a plan began forming in his mind. "Hone gave Marius that crystal expecting him to die," he theorized out loud. "When the blessing failed without the explosion he wanted, Hone must have assumed something happened to Marius. But since he also knows about the mind-parasite, he must think Marius is either dead or a raving lunatic, incapable of giving up any real information.”

"A reasonable assumption, given the potency of the magic," Tholm agreed. "Which is why he is currently sitting comfortably in his quarters, waiting for the storm to pass.”

"So we need to change how he perceives the situation," Nick said, leaning forward. "We can utilize my broker’s network for this. He has eyes and ears in every tavern and smuggling den in Alluria, and considering how deep Hone’s influence runs, I have no doubt his contacts will pick up any whisper within hours.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“We should let it be known that Marius survived," Nick said, as a predatory glint entered his eyes. “And more importantly, that the madness was purged from his mind. Too many details would make it suspicious, but that should be enough for Hone to assume that he’s willing to testify. He’s not the kind of man to let any loose end remain untied for long.”

Tholm’s eyebrows lifted, and he steepled his fingers. “A living, sane Marius would be a thorn in his side,” he admitted. “And considering the crimes he’s committed, the only way the boy has to save his family’s honor would be to go to the Duke and reveal everything. That would give Anton an opening to regain control of the city faster, and even the Tower Master wouldn’t be able to stop him from opening an official inquest.”

“Yes, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it," Nick confirmed. "But because Marius is well guarded, Hone can't just send a typical street gang to silence him as he might have done normally. He'll have to send someone highly capable, someone with enough skills to overcome any opposition.”

“And that kind of person isn’t easy to come by,” Tholm murmured. “His reach is vast, but even he doesn’t have an endless supply of skilled people working for him.”

“We will have to take them alive,” Nick continued, feeling more confident. “We’ll only get one shot at this, but it might be what we need to pin it all on him.”

Finally, Tholm gave a slow nod. "It is a bold move, Nicholas," he said. "It uses Elias’s paranoia against him, and regardless of his suspicions, stopping Marius from testifying would be necessary.”

Before Nick could smile in victory, Tholm raised a hand. “But you must understand the risk you are taking with this. He is not a fool, and whoever he sends would be truly elite. Death would be a high probability against them.”

“I understand,” Nick replied. “I don’t plan to take them lightly, and the Grandmaster’s people are capable on their own. We can do this, as long as Hone himself isn’t the one coming."

“That, I can help with,” Tholm said, and it was all that Nick needed.

Feeling more confident now that he had an actual plan, he stood up and prepared to leave. "I'll coordinate with One-Ear immediately and head to the safe house to set the stage.”

"Nicholas," Tholm called out just as he reached the door.

Nick paused, glancing back at the weary old man sitting in the shadows of his office.

"Do not underestimate him," Tholm warned softly. “Elias is a brilliant man, despite his vices and faults. Be ready for things to unfold in unpredictable ways.”

"I'll keep my eyes open, Archmage," Nick promised.

He stepped into the hallway, feeling the door click shut behind him. The plotting was finished, and now, it was time to set the tripwires and wait for the rat to take the bait.