The Chancellor rose, moving to a concealed panel in the wall that slid aside at his touch. Behind it lay a crystalline display showing the current network beneath the city—similar to Vale's map but with significant differences.

  Where Vale's map showed natural flows, this one displayed rigid geometric patterns imposed over the currents, forcing them into unnatural configurations.

  "Project Wellspring seeks to address energy depletion through targeted redirection," Whitehall explained, his fingers tracing connection points on the display. "Channeling from areas of lower priority to sustain critical convergence points."

  "Robbing the provinces to feed the capital," I translated.

  "Ensuring resource allocation matches strategic priorities," he corrected smoothly. "Your bloodline—the Greywers line—once specialized in network harmonization and flow dynamics. You possess inherited abilities that could significantly enhance our redirection capabilities."

  Sister Wrenna glided forward, her movements unnaturally fluid. "Historical records indicate your ancestors were instrumental in establishing the original current network. The capacity for manipulation remains in your blood, requiring only proper awakening and guidance."

  I thought of the Balance Chambers, of the knowledge that had flowed into me when standing on those ancient daises. My ancestors hadn't created the network for extraction but for harmonization—working with currents, not forcing them into artificial patterns.

  "And if I were to assist with this project," I asked carefully, "what would that entail?"

  Mourne practically quivered with anticipation. "Oh, remarkable protocols we've developed! Initial biometric resonance assessment coupled with sympathetic attunement exercises—all completely non-invasive, I assure you! Then graduated activation sequences to enhance latent channel structures in your cellular architecture!" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "We've even constructed specialized interface apparatus based on fragmentary Ley Line Walker design principles—absolutely revolutionary potential applications!"

  The clinical enthusiasm couldn't disguise what he was proposing: experimenting on me to determine how my abilities could serve their extraction efforts.

  "You make it sound like a research position," I observed. "Rather than conscription."

  "We prefer willing participation," Whitehall said, returning to his desk. "Your cooperation would be generously compensated. The crown recognizes the value of specialized talents."

  "How generous?" I asked, the question calculated to reveal their desperation level.

  The Chancellor smiled thinly. "Full restoration of House Greywers's historical holdings. Reinstatement of your family's traditional stipend. A position on the Royal Energy Commission with accompanying rank advancement." He paused for effect. "And clearance of all outstanding debts currently held against your family lands."

  The offer was breathtaking in its scope—everything my family had lost over generations, returned with a stroke of a pen. The restoration my father had spent his life seeking, available to me for the simple price of cooperation.

  If I'd been the man I was before the blue serum entered my blood, I might have accepted on the spot.

  Instead, I found myself thinking of the currents beneath us, laboring under artificial constraints. Of the knowledge gained in the Balance Chambers about how the system was meant to function. Of Vale's words about restoration versus transformation.

  "A generous offer indeed," I said carefully. "Though I notice you've not mentioned certain practical considerations."

  "Such as?" Whitehall prompted.

  "Such as whether previous subjects of these 'activation protocols' have survived the process. Or the long-term effects of the abilities you wish me to employ."

  Mourne's enthusiasm faltered momentarily. "Well—that is—our recent methodological refinements have dramatically improved subject viability metrics! The earlier unfortunate outcomes were necessary developmental steps in our understanding of bloodline interface techniques!"

  "Improved from what percentage?" I pressed. "And define 'outcomes' more specifically."

  Sister Wrenna interjected, her perfect voice carrying an edge that hadn't been present before. "Lord Greywers, the survival of the entire magical infrastructure depends on finding alternative methodologies. Individual concerns must be balanced against kingdom-wide necessities."

  "A complex calculation," I agreed. "Though I imagine those individual concerns feel rather significant to the individuals in question."

  Whitehall studied me with renewed intensity. "You've been speaking with someone. Someone with knowledge of our research parameters."

  I maintained neutral expression, though internally I cursed my overreach. "I've been investigating my family's historical connections to the current network. Natural curiosity following my unexpected recovery."

  "Under whose guidance?" Mourne demanded, his academic facade cracking further. "The specialized nature of your inquiries suggests external information sources—traditional practitioners with outdated methodologies, perhaps? Counter-progressive elements interfering with critical research priorities?!"

  I felt the conversation sliding into dangerous territory. Time to redirect.

  "My primary concern remains my duties as Knight-Protector," I said firmly. "My border lands require regular attention, particularly given recent raider activities. While your offer is intriguing, I cannot simply abandon my responsibilities indefinitely."

  Whitehall's expression shifted to one of calculated consideration. "A reasonable concern. Perhaps a phased approach might accommodate your obligations while allowing for preliminary assessment."

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  "I'm listening."

  "Return to your lands as planned," the Chancellor proposed, each word carefully measured. "Attend to whatever matters require your immediate attention. A research team will accompany you to conduct initial evaluations in familiar surroundings." He smiled thinly. "Less disruptive to your duties, and potentially more productive given the reported convergence point beneath your keep."

  They knew about that too. Not surprising, but concerning nonetheless.

  "And after these initial evaluations?"

  "We develop a schedule that balances your obligations with Project Wellspring's requirements," Whitehall replied smoothly. "Gradual integration rather than immediate reassignment."

  The offer presented both danger and opportunity. Returning to my lands would remove me from the immediate threat of palace detention, but accepting Phoenix researchers meant inviting the serpent into my home. However, it also bought precious time for my abilities to develop naturally rather than through Mourne's "activation protocols."

  I made a show of considering the proposal, though my decision was already formed. "A reasonable compromise. I would require a formal agreement outlining specific parameters, of course."

  "Of course," Whitehall agreed readily. "Dr. Mourne will prepare appropriate documentation for your review before departure."

  "There is one additional matter," I said, seizing the opening to gather more intelligence. "The serum that triggered my condition—I've encountered raiders carrying similar substances along my border. I assume these are Phoenix operations?"

  Mourne and Whitehall exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them.

  "Not directly," the Chancellor finally responded, each word precisely chosen. "The compound originates from Adavarian research facilities. We believe certain elements within their government seek to develop alternative energy methodologies that would give them strategic advantage."

  "The raiders?"

  "Mercenaries employed by Adavarian interests," Mourne explained, shifting into academic analysis. "Fascinating operational methodology! They appear to deliberately target border regions with experimental compounds, then observe effects from safe distance. Our intelligence suggests they select areas with potential Ley Line Walker bloodlines based on historical settlement patterns!"

  The casual cruelty behind such testing sent a chill through me. "And the Phoenix Collective merely monitors these activities?"

  "We maintain surveillance on all foreign magical incursions," Whitehall replied smoothly. "When compatible subjects are identified, we intervene to offer proper care and guidance. Unfortunately, we typically learn of these incidents only after they've occurred."

  Care and guidance. Such benign terms for what I suspected were forced research protocols and exploitation.

  "I see," I said, rising from my chair. "I'll need several days to arrange affairs at my keep before receiving your research team. Shall we say a week's time?"

  Whitehall's expression suggested he'd prefer a shorter timeline, but he nodded. "A reasonable accommodation. Sister Wrenna will accompany you to coordinate preparations."

  That I hadn't anticipated. "I already have healing specialists attending me," I countered. "Additional personnel would complicate arrangements unnecessarily."

  "Your... specialists... have not been properly cleared for involvement with Project Wellspring," Mourne interjected, disapproval evident in his furrowed brow. "Their methodologies lack standardized validation protocols! Sister Wrenna possesses appropriate security clearance and methodological certification for this critical research phase."

  A spy, in other words. One who would report my every move back to them while assessing the Sisters' methods.

  "I'm afraid I must insist on maintaining my current medical team," I said firmly. "My recovery protocol is at a delicate stage that would be compromised by introducing new methodologies."

  Sister Wrenna's perfect serenity slipped momentarily, revealing something cold and calculating beneath. "Unconventional practitioners often employ techniques that interfere with standardized assessment parameters."

  "Then we face a dilemma," I replied. "I cannot risk disrupting my recovery process, yet you require appropriate monitoring."

  Whitehall, ever the politician, offered the compromise I'd been hoping for. "Perhaps a modified arrangement. Your current specialists may continue their work, with Sister Wrenna serving as liaison rather than primary practitioner. She would observe but not interfere unless safety concerns arise."

  Still a spy, but with limited authority to intervene. Better than direct replacement of the Sisters.

  "Acceptable," I agreed, knowing refusal would only heighten suspicions. "Though I must depart tomorrow as planned. Border security reports require my personal attention."

  "Naturally." Whitehall extended his hand once more. "I believe this arrangement will prove beneficial to all concerned, Lord Greywers. The Phoenix Collective values your bloodline's unique capabilities, and the crown recognizes the importance of proper compensation for such service."

  I clasped his hand briefly, feeling the currents pulse beneath us as though responding to our agreement. "I look forward to learning more about my family's historical connections to these systems."

  "Indeed." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "History often provides valuable perspective on present challenges."

  As I departed the Azure Room, escorted by a palace steward, I felt the weight of what had just transpired. I'd neither accepted nor rejected their offer outright—instead securing time and intelligence while preserving my freedom of movement. A precarious balance, but the best outcome available under the circumstances.

  The currents beneath the palace seemed to respond to my passage, subtle pulses that followed my steps like ripples in water. Whether they recognized something in my blood or merely reacted to disruption, I couldn't tell. My abilities remained more perception than manipulation, awareness without control.

  Outside the palace gates, Willem waited with barely concealed anxiety. "Well?" he demanded as soon as we were beyond earshot of the guards. "Execution postponed or merely rescheduled?"

  "Complicated," I replied quietly. "The Phoenix knows far more than we realized, but they need willing cooperation rather than forced compliance. We've bought time, but not freedom."

  "And the Sisters?"

  "Will have a watchdog—someone called Sister Wrenna. Perfect voice, perfect face, perfectly unsettling."

  Willem's weathered features darkened. "Never trust perfection. Nature makes things useful, not perfect."

  As we made our way through the city streets toward our latest hiding place, I glanced back at the palace rising behind us. Beneath its gleaming towers and polished fa?ade lay a system struggling against artificial constraints, much like the kingdom it represented.

  The Chancellor had offered restoration of everything my family had lost, positioning me neatly within that same failing system. Vale offered transformation into something new and uncertain. Both required sacrifice, but of very different kinds.

  For now, I'd bought precious time to develop my abilities away from Mourne's experiments. Time to understand what my bloodline truly meant beyond Phoenix propaganda. Time to decide which sacrifice I could bear to make.

  The blue patterns pulsed briefly beneath my skin, responding to my thoughts or perhaps to currents far deeper than those the Phoenix monitored. Either way, I'd just placed myself at the center of forces I barely understood—forces that had shaped my family's destiny for generations.

  Willem's voice cut through my contemplation. "Best move quickly, my lord. If they've got someone following us already, we'll need to take the long way round."

  He was right, of course. Philosophy could wait. Survival came first, followed closely by preparation for whatever came next.

  One step before the next, as Vale had counseled. The future would unfold whether I was ready or not.