Book 2: Chapter 27.2: Back to the Drawing Room /Part 2

Devon tried not to fidget, but it was a battle that he was losing, horribly.

He’d wandered into the side chamber half by accident. The noise of the gala had been pushing against the inside of his skull for an hour, and the quiet here had been a relief. Until Vess Auralde found him. She arrived like a prowling panther. Her movement were soundless, effortless, and as she approached there was already a false smile etched across her visage.

“There you are,” she purred, the words leaving her mouth like they were old friends who’d simply lost track of each other in the frivolity of the party and had found each other again.

Devon froze mid-step. He’d already turned toward the corridor when she spoke, and if he continued now it would appear like he was trying to flee from her. Which, of course, he was.

“Ms. Auralde,” he said carefully.

“Devon.” She let the name hang in the air between them. “Your team’s proving very popular. But I was hoping to speak with you.”

She gestured toward a velvet-cushioned seat by the windows. It wasn’t quite a command, but it was close. Devon sat anyway.

Vess followed with practiced grace, her dress a river of charcoal and gold-thread accents, subtle enough to pretend to be humble. She produced a glass tube from the folds of her robe, the same one as before in the dinning room.

“Do you remember this?”

Devon’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. The salvaged piece from a prior Strider event, right? Very curious material. I’m still unsure how much damage it endured crossing into this world.”

Her face was casual as he spoke. Her fingers were not, they gripped the glass with surgical care, like it was the most important object in her life.

“But that’s not what I brought you here to discuss,” she said.

Devon watched her carefully. “No?”

“I’m afraid our arrangement has changed.”

He said nothing.

Vess smiled wider. “I’ll be blunt. I won’t support your vote unless you give me the enchantment schematics you’ve been working on. Two of them, in fact.”

Devon blinked. “What schematics?”

“The energy stabilization lattice for focal casting tools, and the modular energy resonance loop you’ve been developing based on the palace’s heat-less light sconces.” She said it like reading off a grocery list.

His mouth went dry. He hadn’t written those ideas down, nor had he discussed them with anyone. Not anywhere public at least, not where she should’ve seen it. “How do you—”

“Oh, Devon.” She gave a sympathetic sigh. “You’re a smart boy, think.

Of course someone’s watching.”

She held the glass tube out now, delicately, with both hands, like it might break at the slightes pressure. “And there’s one more thing.”

The etchings on the glass caught the candlelight just enough to shimmer. The markings along the glass came sharply into focus under the light. Devon could see them then, glyphs and sigils. Thread-lines along the interior surface. A runic script detailing conditions and obligations.

It was a contract script.

Devon stared, dumbfounded. “These markings—”

“Are terms,” Vess said. “Etched into the glass surface with glyph styluses. A rather niche style. Technically legal, though rarely used.”

“You said this was a container for the technology.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“It is. And also a document. You held it. I asked, ‘Do you agree?’ And you said—”

Devon felt it drop in his stomach. He remembered what he said as he held the glass in his hands, he had said… “Yes.”

“Which activated the binding sequence,” she said cheerfully. “It was quite elegant, really.”

He stood. Fist clenched at his sides and teeth bared. “You tricked me.”

Vess didn’t flinch. “You were intrigued. I provided that intrigue. You agreed.”

He stared at her. “What did I agree to?”

“A contract to provide information,” she said. “Nothing too invasive. It obligates you to share a portion of any replicable advancements you develop. A little knowledge, here and there. A trickle of innovation. Think of it as… tribute.”

“You—”

“But now,” she said, cutting him off, “I want more.” She rose, too, a few inches taller than him in her heels, he hadn’t noticed that before. “I want a public contract. A visible alliance, a show of dominance, something the Guild can’t ignore. I want every merchant in Terraxum to know the Worldstriders are working with me, thus making me the most lucrative trade partner in the kingdom.”

Devon stared at her like she was something venomous. She didn’t blink.

“When?” he asked.

“When I

say it’s ready.” She stepped past him, unhurried. Her fingers trailed lightly along the edge of the chair he’d left behind. “Oh, and Devon?”

He didn’t answer.

“Do bring your best smile when the time comes. The crowd adores nervous geniuses.” She disappeared into the hazy light, obscured by the fog of perfurme.

Devon stood still for a moment longer, heart thudding painfully in his throat. Then he turned to leave the room, and to find the rest of them.

He had to tell the others, they were fucked.

***

The music in the gallery chamber had shifted again, slow and low. Alex was halfway through the crowd, carving a careful arc away from the council envoy cluster, when a hand snatched his arm from behind. Fast, firm, familiar.

Alex turned just enough to see Cole Blackwell, focused, eyes locked. His expression didn’t appear panicked, just intense.

“Walk with me,” Cole said.

“Think he just discovered the diplomatic envoy of foxgirls and wants advice?” Obby asked.

What? No I’m sure learned something important an- wait what foxgirls?

“Ha, made you look!”

He rolled his eyes and followed along with Cole silently. They moved through the gallery edge and out into one of the branching side halls. There were fewer guests there, fewer eyes.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

Cole glanced back once, then leaned in. “I think I found something. Or someone wanted me to.”

That earned a pause. “Say more.”

Cole exhaled through his nose, grounding himself, preparing for some kind of revelation apparently. “Been talking with one of the palace servants I met at the Gala. Just casual at first. He was passing drinks, seemed grounded. Real guy, you know?”

Alex nodded. “Go on.”

“Name’s Paedwyn. At least, that’s what he told me. Said he was a royal bastard. Not close to the line, nothing dramatic. Just… one of those quietly acknowledged fringe sons. Works the halls. Keeps his head down.”

Alex arched a brow. “And he told you that?”

“Not right away. Took a few days. Couple shifts. But yeah. Said it with that tone people use when they’re tired of hiding it.” There was something in Cole’s voice, not excitement, not worry. Just a thrum of anxiety. Like he hadn’t even decided if this was a lead or a warning yet.

Alex kept pace beside him. “What did he say?”

Cole lowered his voice. “Said there are tunnels under the palace, like really old ones. Locked down and guarded, of course. No access from the guest wings. But lately, he’s been seeing supplies moved that direction. Crates and tool, not a normal volume. And not logged.”

Alex’s pulse flicked higher. “Where exactly?”

“He gave me a location. A hallway junction near the East Foundation Wing. Behind a storage vault. There’s a lift shaft sealed by a sigil-lock.”

Alex’s thoughts ran ahead of his feet. “And you think this servant just happened to drop this on you during a casual chat?”

“That’s the thing,” Cole said. “I don’t. I think someone made sure we crossed paths. Like they wanted this to get back to you.”

Alex didn’t say anything right away. He needed to think things through.

This is probably a trap. It’s a trap right?

“If it is, it’s an obvious one. The kind only an idiot would fall for. You’re not an idiot are you? Oh Heavenly System I knew it, I’m bonded to a moron.” Obby’s illusion body floated nearby, pretending to weep into the curtains of a window.

I’m not an idiot. And let’s be real here, everyone knows that, even Thorneth and Savnek. So, this would be a stupid as hell trap to try to pull. Which makes me thinks it’s not one.

“Classic double psyche out. They knew, that you know, that they know, you’re not stupid. Which is exactly how they make you do something stupid.”

We can go down that type of thinking infinitely. I’m just gonna trust my gut on this one.

The party still hummed behind them, spilling music and laughter up and down the corridors. Inside that room were a hundred people angling for favors, there were alliances forming and fraying by the hour. How many of them knew that underneath all of their feet, something was stirring.

Alex looked at Cole. “You trust him?”

“Enough to follow up. Not enough to write it down. Don’t at me.”

Alex made his decision.“Show me.”

“Now?”

He nodded. “Yes, now. The Council, Church and the Martial Sects are all in there, busy getting drunk on politics. It’s the best cover we’ll get, maybe ever.”

Cole didn’t hesitate. He turned and led the way, and Alex followed.

They moved silently through the palace, not toward a vote, not toward a court, but into the stone foundation beneath all of it.

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