Jared etched Ieuan’s name into memory. “Thank you, Your Highness. Yuliana and I will start today. The moment we uncover anything, you will hear from us.”
“Good.” Aurelius rose and clasped Jared’s shoulder, his voice suddenly gentle. “The safety of the realm rests with you. Whatever you need, the kingdom will provide.”
Outside Celestia’s palace, the spring air felt thinner. Yuliana turned, violet eyes sharp. “Jared, where do we dig first?”
“The Intelligence Agency,” Jared said. “If Malevolent Path Hall stole the bell, they must have studied Roaring Storm Church beforehand. Old case files may hold a frayed thread we can tug. And while we’re there, we study Ieuan’s record. The king’s doubt is reason enough for ours.”
Yuliana nodded and led west through winding alleys to a quiet compound that looked like any other townhouse, save for the unseen sigils humming beneath its walls.
This was the Intelligence Agency, fortress of whispers.
Its master, Pedalf Cantrell, a stooped elder of formidable Earthly Immortal Realm Level Seven, greeted them the instant saw Jared’s Investigation Badge, and even more quickly when learned the visitor carried the Golden Dragon Bloodline.
Pedalf produced every dossier on Malevolent Path Hall and on Ieuan Chapman without a breath of hesitation.
Jared and Yuliana bent their heads over scrolls from dawn until the lamps guttered, yet the pages yielded only crumbs.
Files on Malevolent Path Hall amounted to scattered sightings, fleeting silhouettes, rumors of robed strangers, each lead dissolving before a second report could be penned.
The folders on Ieuan were worse. They consisted merely of pristine accounts of loyal service and meticulous records of ordinary court affairs. There was nothing dark, nothing amiss, almost too clean.
“Either Ieuan hides very well,” Yuliana muttered, frustration tightening jaw, “or truly is innocent.”
Jared shook his head. “Perfection can be a mask. Ieuan has ruled his corner of the court for years. If wished to scrub away stains, had time. We need fresh angles-eyes outside these walls.”
Just then, a junior clerk hurried in, breathless. “Mr. Cantrell, Lady Fiala, Mr. Chance, the Prime Minister’s Office has delivered an invitation. Prime Minister Chapman requests Mr. Chance’s company at a banquet tomorrow evening.”
Yuliana accepted the crimson-lacquered invitation with both hands, the parchment warm against gloves.
A faint trace of sandalwood drifted out as unfolded the heavy envelope, revealing calligraphy that invited Jared to lunch at the Prime Minister’s Office the next day to discuss matters with regard to assisting Celestia in responding to the crisis.
Yuliana angled a wary glance at Jared.
“Ieuan Chapman inviting you without warning? That smells of hidden claws,” said, voice low enough to keep the palace walls from listening.
Jared lifted the card, a cold smile cutting across his features. “Since was polite enough to ask, I’ll be polite enough to show. Besides, I’m curious which cards the Prime Minister thinks are still tucked up his sleeve.”
At noon the following day, Jared set out alone for the Prime Minister’s Office, his shadow the only companion chasing down the marble streets of Celestia.
Prime Minister’s Office occupied the eastern ridge of the noble district, sprawling like a private city behind ivory walls. Two stone lions, each taller than a war wagon, guarded the gate with frozen roars, their granite manes catching spears of sunlight.
Inside, lacquered beams shimmered with gold leaf. Pavilions and towers stepped around mirror ponds, while the garden bloomed with flowers rare enough to carry a price in celestial gems. Wisps of celestial energy curled among them like wandering spirits of spring.
Within Lunar Hall, Ieuan waited already. Near sixty, wore a purple court robe that fell in unbroken lines, lending an almost ethereal height. Though his smile appeared gentle, power had etched itself into the air around him, as if the years in office had become a second spine of Iron beneath the silk.
Ieuan rose at once, folding his hands with affected warmth. “Mr. Chance, what an honor. Forgive me for not greeting you at the gate, I must beg your pardon, truly…”
“You are too courteous, Sir.” Jared returned the gesture, his tone polite yet untouched by warmth.
While their sleeves were still falling, Jared’s gaze drifted past the minister.
Beyond the Iatticework, several guards in sleek black stood at silent attention. Each of them gave off an aura that hovered near the Earthly Immortal Realm Level Eight. Evidently, they were Ieuan’s guards.
On the basalt table lay dishes rare enough to bankrupt a province. Two maids waited beside the spread, their eyes lowered, their breaths trained to silence.
Ieuan poured a pale-gold wine that glimmered like starlight caught in glass. “Mr. Chance, a man who carries the Golden Dragon Bloodline in his veins and wields such strength, is a blessing to our kingdom. I have long admired you, and today I offer only this modest wine in hopes that we might become allies.”
