The soft glow of enchanted lights attached to the chandelier filled Clament’s office, illuminated shelves lined with books on city governance and trade. Behind his grand desk of dark mahogany sat Clament himself. The crimson sash of his station rested across his broad chest. With a steely gaze, he scrutinized a ledger, focusing on the numbers marked in red.

  Opposite of him sat two men in fine, leathery, large chairs: one, a wiry man in his late forties, with spectacles perched precariously on his nose; he was the Chamber of Commerce representative. The other was a nobleman in his mid-thirties, dressed in an immaculate blue coat trimmed with silver.

  “Gentleman—once again,” Clament said, his tone steady but firm, “the stagnation of trade from the southern provinces is growing worse and worse by the day. Not only are we losing valuable revenue, but it’s undermining the merchants’ trust in this city’s stability. If we tighten tariffs further, we risk alienating them entirely.”

  The chamber representative adjusted his glasses, nodding thoughtfully. “I understand the concern, Lord Clament. However, without additional tariffs, the smaller guilds will struggle to compensate for their losses. It’s already a balancing act, and our coffers aren’t limitless.”

  “And yet,” the noble interjected smoothly, his tone as polished as his attire, “if we burden the other merchants further, we’ll drive them to neighboring cities. Talo thrives because it is seen as a bastion of opportunity, not a trap for taxes.” He gestured with a gloved hand, his silver rings catching the light. “What we need is better protection for the caravans. No one wants to take the southern routes for fear of bandits, criminals, and rogue monsters. I propose reallocating some of the city’s watch to guard the southern trade routes.”

  Clament’s gaze hardened. “Reallocating the watch? You realize that means leaving parts of the city vulnerable, particularly the outer districts. Crime is already a concern, and with the monster flood coming soon, it’s only going to get worse.”

  The chamber representative cleared his throat. “If I may—if we were to consider Sir Timald’s suggestion, we could consider hiring private mercenary groups to supplement the city’s defenses. It would cost more upfront, but it avoids pulling resources from Talo itself. This would be better than hiring mercenaries to guard the caravans, as we would have no eyes on them. We can at least trust the city guards to do the job, honestly.”

  Clament shook his head. “Mercenaries don’t answer to the city, Perenin. Their loyalty is as deep as their pay. If anything goes wrong, the people of Talo won’t hold them accountable—they’ll blame us. Despite their proximity and our ability to monitor their activities, the concern is not their potential negligence of duty, but the city’s reputation should criminal activity go unchecked. The city’s War Paragons are a symbol of safety, not the mercenaries.”

  The noble smirked. “Then perhaps it’s time we lean on our allies. My family’s trade routes to the northern circuits remain secure. We could leverage those relationships to temporarily supplement the losses from the south.”

  “Leverage?” Clament’s eyes narrowed. “And what, exactly, would your family demand in return? I know enough of your dealings to know there’s always a price.”

  The noble raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “You wound me, Clament. My offer is purely in the city’s interest. I’m merely suggesting we open up another route to the north, and have my family handle some of the behind-the-scenes work. You’ll get another trade route to offset the south, and my family becomes richer from it.”

  Before Clament could respond, the door to his office creaked open, causing all three men to turn. Margel stepped inside, his uniform slightly wrinkled, his face serious and lined with urgency.

  “Margel,” Clament said sharply, his expression hardening. “I don’t recall giving permission for interruptions. This is a closed meeting.”

  Margel hesitated for half a heartbeat but then stepped forward. “Apologies, Lord, but it’s urgent. A person of high-noble status has just entered the city.”

  Clament’s brow furrowed as his fingers tapped the edge of his desk. “Margel, this is Talo. Nobles come and go as often as merchants. Why in the heavens would I care about another one while I’m in the middle of vital talks about the city’s economic situation?”

  Margel took a step closer, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “If I may speak privately, sir…”

  The Chamber representative frowned. “Surely this can wait until we’ve resolved the matter of trade security?”

  Clament’s jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on Margel before turning to the other men. “Gentlemen, my apologies, but I’ll need to postpone our discussion. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning.”

  The two men sent a glance at one another for but a moment. The Chamber representative gathered his papers reluctantly, while the noble stood more slowly, his expression sour. “I do hope this interruption is worth the city’s time,” the noble said with a pointed glance at Margel before exiting with a swish of his blue coat.

  As the door clicked shut behind them, Clament leaned back in his chair, fixing Margel with a sharp stare. “Well? This better be important. I’ve told you I’m very busy with trying to solve the situation in the south. I can’t afford mindless interruptions like this, Margel.”

  Margel stepped closer, leaning in to whisper. Whatever he said caused Clament’s fingers to tighten on the armrests of his chair, his knuckles whitening. His commanding demeanor turned ice cold.

  “Are you certain?” Clament asked, his voice barely above a growl.

  Margel nodded gravely. “No doubt about it, sir.”

  Clament exhaled slowly, the weight of the news settling over him. “Prepare a private audience chamber immediately,” he ordered. “Call for Marek, Serina, and Lorrin—say it is a direct order from me. Also, get someone to track this person down in the city—discreetly. We just want to make sure where they are at and that no trouble shall find its way to them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Margel said with a slight bow. He moved back and headed out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

  Clament stood at the head of the private chamber, the room lit by the steady glow of enchanted crystal sconces embedded in the white stone walls. The room was lush, and decorated; furry carpet laid on the ground; paintings of a serene landscape and portraits of heroes hung on the walls.

  Across a polished oak table sat three of Clament’s most trusted city officials. Marek Gorran, Commander of City Operations, leaned back in his chair, his burly frame and salt-and-pepper beard giving him a gruff, hardened look. Serina Veylan, Minister of External Relations, sat beside him, her sharp gaze reflecting her reputation for political finesse and slithery-tongue. To her left was Lorrin Veyd, Overseer of Civil Order, a man with thin spectacles who often dealt with the inner workings of the city’s policies and law enforcement.

  Clament surveyed the room with a heavy expression. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I wouldn’t have called you here if it weren’t urgent.”

  Lorrin adjusted his spectacles, his tone clipped. “Urgent enough to interrupt my review of the city guard rotations, I trust? I’ve hired additional guards recently, but they aren’t up to my standards yet.”

  Serina raised an eyebrow. “Clament doesn’t pull us into private chambers lightly, Lorrin. Let him speak.”

  Marek folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “If this is another tariff debate, I swear—”

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  “It’s not,” Clament cut in sharply. “This is a matter of unprecedented significance. Earlier today, Margel brought me news of someone entering the city. Someone of high importance.”

  Lorrin leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued. “How high are we talking?”

  “A noble,” Clament said. “And not just any noble—a high-noble.”

  The room fell silent, save for the faint rustling of their clothes as they shifted around in their seats.

  Marek let out a low whistle, breaking the stillness. “A high-noble, right? The same ones that stay up at the enchanted layer? You’re saying someone from there is in Talo?”

  Clament nodded. “A young girl named Lia Empyria arrived in the city earlier today. According to the guards at the entrance and the official overseeing tournament sign-ups, she used two separate aliases: Enya Empyria and Enya Meltere.”

  Serina’s sharp eyes narrowed. “Lia Empyria? That name means nothing to me.”

  “It wouldn’t,” Clament said, as he pulled up the crystal interface from his arm bracer. “Even our system doesn’t have much information. All it has are the basic names of the person, and the fact that they are a high-noble. That’s how it is for all high-nobility. We can’t manually look up their information. We can only see it if provided, like from a blood scan.” He paused before continuing. “Which she opted for at the gate; the scan then alerted our system, which was how Margel found out about it in the first place.”

  Clament lowered his arm and dismissed the screen. “High-nobles from the Fifth Layer rarely descend to the fourth layer, let alone the second. But when they do, they usually stay far removed from affairs. Their wealth, influence, and connections are so vast that they’re considered royalty in the Second, Third, and even parts of the Fourth Layer. Frankly speaking, if she were to demand us give them the entire city… I’m afraid that unless we all want to die, we would have to concede. High-nobles all have the ability to register people on the void-list.”

  Marek’s eyes widened. “Seriously? They have the authority to mark people for death across all the layers? I’ve only ever known that kings can issue such decrees. Hell, there is always news of king’s and queen’s decrees for the void-list sometimes being outright denied from the first to third layers.”

  Lorrin frowned. “If she’s that prestigious, what is she doing here, of all places? And under fake names, no less?”

  Clament’s expression darkened. “That’s precisely what I called you here to discuss. She signed up for the Lightway Tournament, which suggests she has a specific purpose for being here. A tad more concerning is that she’s traveling with a skeleton companion—a sentient one, by all accounts.”

  Marek leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “A skeleton? One revived by necromancy?”

  “That is what we are presuming, yes,” answered Clament.

  Marek tapped fingers on the table slowly. “Necromancy in Talo could stir up trouble with the Order of Sanctity. Our relationship with them hasn’t been the best. They barely tolerate us as it is.”

  “I’m aware,” Clament said tersely. “But our priority is discretion. If word spreads of her presence, the city could be thrown into chaos. Merchants will flock to her, thieves and opportunists might target her, and the tournament itself could become a political flashpoint. Her being here brings us a whole lot of trouble, that I’m not quite sure we’re prepared to handle if things were to turn sour.”

  Serina hummed, deep in thought. “A noble of her stature wouldn’t come this far down without a reason. High-nobles don’t take idle vacations. If she’s here, she’s after something. Perhaps there is a reason she enrolled in the Lightway tournament.”

  “Exactly,” Clament said. “But we don’t know what. Not yet. For now, I’ve instructed Margel to have her movements tracked quietly. We need to know where she is, who she’s speaking to, and what her intentions might be. No one is to approach her or interfere.”

  Lorrin adjusted his spectacles again, his tone measured. “And what about the aliases? If she wanted anonymity, she’s done a poor job of it by keeping one name tied to her real one.”

  “Or it’s deliberate,” Serina countered. “A high-noble doesn’t make careless mistakes. Even if she is a child, whoever her caretaker is—whether it is that skeleton or someone in the shadows—they would be directing her actions. Signing up for a tournament like this on a whim would not have been tolerated by their guardian. This might be a calculated move to see how much attention she draws—or who reacts to her presence. This may very well be a trap, or possible bait. Whether it is to test Talo, or perhaps another person of interest living in the city.”

  Clament nodded and considered her words. There was no possible way a high-noble would be here leisurely. There were plenty of places in the fourth or even third layer that were grander than Talo. She was here for something, and now it was up to him to ensure things went smoothly.

  “Either way, we’ll need to tread carefully. If this gets out, the city’s stability could be at risk. And if her skeleton companion draws the wrong kind of attention…” Marek chimed.

  “We’ll handle it,” Clament said firmly. “For now, let her remain in the tournament. Pulling her out would raise questions we’re not ready to answer. Keep this contained and under control. I trust the three of you to act with the utmost discretion.”

  The officials exchanged nods. In the private chamber, the reality of Lia Empyria’s presence loomed like a shadow—its purpose unknown to them, but its significance—impossible to ignore. The appearance of a high-noble was akin to that of a ticking bomb. They would have to try their best to diffuse or shield off the explosion, or else Talo would face its dire consequences.

  The door to Clament’s office opened, breaking the silence as he worked on drafting additional plans for the tariff situation.

  The city of Talo thrived as a bustling trade hub, but the recent under-performance—and near abandonment—of one of its southern trade routes was cutting into its economic lifeline. Rogue bandits, criminals, and even monsters had overrun the area, with the looming monster flood season promising even greater challenges. The reports had been piling up on Clament’s desk, each one grimmer than the last.

  He stopped writing mid-sentence and set his pen down, his gaze lifting to see Margel standing at the door.

  “There’s been a bit of trouble,” Margel said cautiously.

  The word trouble hung heavy in the air, and Clament’s eye twitched in response. He didn’t need a crystal ball to guess where this was going.

  “Is it related to the high noble?”

  A hesitant nod followed. “Yes, sir.”

  The tension in the room sharpened. Leaning back in his chair, Clament laced his fingers together, his gaze steady and focused on Margel. “Go on.”

  “It’s the skeleton.” Margel hesitated before continuing. “He’s been arrested.”

  Clament’s fingers unclasped, hitting the desk with a dull thud. “Arrested? On what grounds?”

  “An altercation in the merchant district. Some adventurers claim he initiated violence, and the guards deemed him a threat to public safety. Specifically, it was an adventurer named Hendel, and his two younger teenage nephews. No other witnesses were on the scene.”

  The explanation drew a sharp exhale through Clament’s nose. His usual calm slipped for a moment, irritation flaring. “And what of the skeleton’s story? I believe you told me before that he could speak and act with intelligence?”

  “From what I’ve learned of the report, he accused the adventurers of trying to kill him for experience.”

  Clament’s face hardened. “Injuries?”

  “The skeleton seems to be fine, but it is hard to judge the state of a skeleton, as the medical agent among the War Paragons was unfamiliar with undead. However, it seems that one of the teenage boys suffered a broken leg. ”

  Clament balled his fists. “By the gods, Margel, does no one in this city understand subtlety? Who ordered the arrest?”

  “One of the city’s watch captains,” Margel said, his voice faltering. “A newer appointment, likely unaware of the broader implications.”

  “Broader implications?” Clament’s voice grew sharp. “We’re not dealing with a street brawler or a minor incident here. That skeleton is directly tied to a noble from the Fifth Layer—one who could crush this city politically with a single word if they chose to.” He rose from his chair, his movements brisk. “Where is the skeleton now?”

  “In the city hall guardhouse, being held for questioning.”

  “Who is the one in charge of his arrest and questioning at the guardhouse?”

  Margel hesitated. “Nakrin, sir.”

  Clament’s eyes narrowed, his body visibly tensing. Nakrin. Of all people to oversee this, it had to be him. A Draconid and one of the city’s strongest War Paragons, Nakrin was exactly the person Clament didn’t want handling such a delicate matter.

  “Contact Lorrin immediately.” Clament’s tone allowed no argument. “He’s to handle this as discreetly and efficiently as possible.” He paused, reconsidering his words. “No, forget subtlety. I don’t care how he does it, just get it done. I want the skeleton released within the hour, and I don’t care what justification the guards invent to make that happen. This needs to be cleaned up now.”

  A quick bow accompanied Margel’s acknowledgment. “I’ll send word to Lorrin at once.”

  “See that you do.” Clament’s tone softened slightly, though his frustration lingered all around him. “And someone needs to monitor that watch captain and inform the other War Paragons to not interact with the young girl and skeleton. We can’t afford another misstep like this. If this incident escalates, we’ll need to be prepared for the fallout.”

  Without another word, Margel turned and exited the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

  Left alone, Clament sank back into his chair, his fingers steepling as his thoughts raced. A skeleton companion, false names, and now an arrest—this high-noble, Lia Empyria, was quickly proving to be a source of chaos. Yet, amidst his irritation, a spark of curiosity remained, nagging at him.

  Why are you here, Lia Empyria? What game are you playing at?