Chapter 465

The barkeep glanced at the coin, then back at the plain, remarkably unremarkable face Nick wore, all without saying a word, though his stormy eyes showed he was considering the matter carefully.He seemed to reach a decision shortly after, as he wiped the coin off the counter, pocketed it, and jerked his head toward a wooden door at the back of the tavern.

Nick led Rhea and Gaelen through the door, into the cellar, and down a narrow flight of stone stairs.

The air grew cool, and soon the unpleasant scent of old water and mildew reached them.

They were entering the sewers. As the largest city in the west, Alluria had a sprawling, ancient subterranean infrastructure of aqueducts and runoff tunnels, a place Nick knew intimately.

He navigated the dark walkways with ease, leading his team toward a decommissioned sector. When they reached an iron grate that had been pried open, Nick recognized the scorch marks still marring the brickwork and the missing chunks where spells had eaten through the stone.

This was the bunker where he and Devon had battled Hone’s mages during the demonic incursion, which One-Ear had entrusted to him.

Stepping into the vaulted chamber, Nick found the space transformed. The debris had been cleared away, replaced by expensive rugs, glass lamps filled with scented oils, and a sturdy oak desk.

Sitting behind the desk, going through a stack of ledgers, was One-Ear.

"I was wondering when you would return to the city, Lord Nicholas," One-Ear said, not looking up from his ledger. "Though I must admit, the new face is a bit too dull. It makes it obvious you are trying to blend in.”

"It serves its purpose, and it’s not like we’ll stay long enough for it to be remembered,” Nick replied, stepping into the light of the braziers as Rhea and Gaelen took up watchful positions by the entrance.

They had discussed this before going in, and while neither of the siblings was pleased to be forced to play silent guard, they would follow his lead, as he’d promised it’d be worth it.

With only slight regret, Nick reached into his spatial ring, withdrew a heavy pouch that clinked with every movement, and tossed it onto the desk. It landed with a satisfying thud directly on top of the paperwork.

“That’s the second half of our arrangement. I trust you have been earning your retainer.”

One-Ear smiled as a greedy gleam entered his eyes. Given how well he’d done for himself with the first payment, Nick suspected he’d only expand his operations further.

The broker pulled the pouch open, verifying the gleam of the minted gold, then made as if to sweep it into a locked drawer beneath his desk, only to vanish it into a spatial pouch.

"I always deliver for my best investors," One-Ear said, leaning back and lacing his fingers together. "You wanted the truth about the northern war, specifically the movements of House Ultimer, and I have been hard at work to learn anything that could be useful. I assure you, you won’t regret it.”

"Start with the war," Nick instructed. He’d learned a few things from the deserters and would be looking for inconsistencies in the stories to verify the truthfulness of One-Ear’s information.

Not that he expected to be lied to, not after all they’d been through and after showing the man exactly how dangerous he could be, but it was better to be paranoid than to be caught lacking.

“As everyone knows, it’s a brutal slog, but the tides have turned," the broker reported. "The dark dwarves pushed hard at first, using psychic warfare that shattered the first defenders, but the Crown's commanders adapted to their tactics. Specifically, your father, Baron Eugene Crowley, has made quite a name for himself. He is currently spearheading a coalition of loyalist forces that has pushed the deep dwellers back to their borders. As we speak, your father is laying siege to the first subterranean city, having broken through the outer fortifications.”

Nick felt a surge of pride, instantly tempered by cold logic. If his father was besieging a stronghold deep in the mountains, he would be unavailable to help with the situation at Toneburg. Nick was on his own.

He didn’t put much stock in that hope, but stranger things had happened before.

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"And House Ultimer?" Nick asked, sensing his companions’ shift in attention.

One-Ear’s smile faded, replaced by grim seriousness. “I don’t know their exact goal, as they’ve gone to great lengths to keep it hidden, but they are playing a very dangerous game. When the war began, they committed as many troops as other noble houses, but the moment the dark dwarves scattered the initial forces, their Head ordered a full retreat of his loyal banners. They even left their outer fortresses to mercenaries.”

“That much we already knew,” Nick muttered. “But why are they hoarding their strength?”

"It goes further than hoarding," One-Ear corrected, nervously tapping a finger on his desk. "My contacts report that Ultimer agents have been quietly hiring independent mercenary companies across Berea for the past two months. They are paying exorbitant rates and funneling them directly into Toneburg. Essentially, they are pulling all their resources back to their main estate and surrounding it with bought swords. Many think it’s because they were spooked by their initial losses and are trying to rebuild, but I don’t buy it.”

"They are building a private army," Gaelen muttered from the doorway, then clamped his jaw shut at Nick’s dark look.

"Exactly," One-Ear nodded with a curious look, assessing the two ‘guards’. "While the rest of the kingdom bleeds in the mountains to punish the dwarves for their daring, House Ultimer is consolidating enough military might to challenge a royal legion. It is not without merit to say they are preparing for something big. Very big.”

“You believe they might try to rebel,” Nick deduced softly. In a way, this was the best-case scenario, as it would invite reprisal from all of Berea, but Ephor Ultimer didn’t strike him as a reckless man.

To go that far, he needed absolute certainty that he would succeed. And that was not good at all.

"Perhaps," the broker agreed. “Or perhaps they want to supplant the Duke of the North. But whatever their goal, you are not the only one who has noticed. The King’s Shadows have been sniffing around Toneburg. The Crown is paranoid at the best of times, my friend. They are stretched thin and know the Ultimers are up to something. I would expect to find traces of their passage if you truly intend to delve into that mess.”

That was among the worst possible news he could have received. If the Shadows were swarming the area around Toneburg, Nick’s margin for error had just vanished.

"If you are planning to strike at House Ultimer," One-Ear warned, reading the silent tension, "you need to do it very carefully. Sharing a goal with the Shadows is almost as dangerous as being their enemy. There is a reason everyone tries to keep as far away from their scrutiny as possible.”

Nick filed the warning away but refused to be deterred, knowing his companions would go through with their plan either way. Even if he weren’t bound by his oath to Ogden to watch over Rhea, he would still aid them. A demonic presence had to be extirpated at all costs, and he doubted Ephor would be as foolish as Hone to paint himself as the enemy of all life by opening the path to another Incursion. “With all those soldiers recalled, they must have Toneburg locked down tight. Do you have a route?”

One-Ear reached into his desk and pulled out a tightly rolled piece of parchment. He slid it across the desk. "An old smuggler's ravine on the eastern walls is still open, as far as I can tell. It cuts through the mountains and bypasses the main checkpoints. It is a treacherous path, guarded by many dangerous beasts, but it will get you within striking distance of the estate without alerting the patrols.”

Nick secured the map in his ring. "Pleasure doing business, One-Ear," he said, then turned toward the exit.

"Keep your head on your shoulders, my friend," the broker called out as they left. “I would hate to lose a patron as generous as you.”

After securing a room at a respectable inn for Rhea and Gaelen, Nick instructed them to rest, prepare their gear, and get horses capable of a hard march through the northern cold the next morning.

As evening draped Alluria in deep shadows, Nick walked alone toward the southern district, where the Valis River was lined with more middle-class establishments.

It was around these parts that he had followed foolish Marius on his quest for vengeance. Though he still considered the boy an idiot, it was a good place to hold meetings away from prying eyes.

He made his way to the quiet teahouse he had specified in his paper crane message. It was an establishment that valued discretion, with private rooms divided by thick wooden sliding doors. Nick was led inside and sat on a cushioned mat beside a low table.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long.

The door slid open, and four figures stepped inside, checking the hallway before quickly closing it behind them. Raphael led the group, with a nervous Tim following. Bellamy observed the room through half-lidded eyes, while Eona looked annoyed by the secrecy.

They stared at Nick, taking in his rugged face.

"You look ridiculous," Eona said bluntly, hands on her hips. "Who are you supposed to be? A tavern bouncer?”

Nick chuckled lightly, in contrast to his disguised features. To ease the lingering tension, he held up a single finger. Drawing on his mana, he created a microscopic vacuum directly over one of the table's candles. The flame was instantly snuffed out, starved of air. A second later, he reversed the pressure, channeling a spark of lightning mana that perfectly reignited the wick without producing a single wisp of smoke.

It was a display of control that left little doubt about who he was.

Tim let out a long breath and sat on a cushion. "It really is you. I told them the crane felt like your magic.”

"It is good to see you all," Nick said warmly, pouring tea for his friends. "I apologize for the cloak-and-dagger, but my presence in the city is strictly unofficial. I didn’t want priests sniffing around.”

"We gathered," Raphael said drily.

"How is the Tower faring? The city looks calm, but I imagine things inside are a different story.”

Bellamy snorted. "Calm is a strong word. The Tower Master has turned the place into a fortress. After the Incursion, they completely overhauled security. There are checkpoints on every floor, and the detection wards are so dense you can barely cast an illusion spell without setting off an alarm.”

"No demons are getting in again," Eona added. “But it is a bit excessive. Magic exercises are best kept in classrooms and dedicated training rooms. People are annoyed, but no one has made a fuss yet. The teachers are a bit too twitchy to tolerate dissent.”

"They have reason to be," Raphael noted grimly. "Vice Tower Master Politod vanished without a trace the night of the attack. We suspect he was either killed by the cultists or so badly injured that he cannot come out. His disappearance forced Bluetear to step down from his spire and manage the Tower personally.”

"I suppose it is for the best," Nick offered mildly. "The Tower needs strong leadership right now.”

They spent the next hour catching up, sharing stories of academic struggles and frontier life.

As the evening wound down and the others prepared to slip back to the Tower before curfew, Raphael lingered.

"Before we left," Raphael said quietly, making sure the sliding door was fully closed, "Archmage Tholm pulled me aside.”

"Did he try to stop you?" Nick asked.

"No," Raphael shook his head. "He simply left me a message to pass along. He said, 'If you see my wayward apprentice, remind him that true power is not a cage. To hold the greatest forces, one must strike a balance in all things. A vessel that only consumes will eventually crack.' "