Cassian did not look away.
For all the gold in the room and all the sunlight pouring through the tall windows, Orion felt as if they were standing in a gambling den after hours, with the shutters drawn and the ledgers open, just before everything was decided.
Asteria had asked her question in the same mild tone she might use to comment on the weather, but it was clear that its subtext wasn’t being ignored.
Cassian’s smile held, but the warmth in it cooled into something deliberate. “I will explain,” he said. “But I would advise caution in what you say, Veil Priestess.”
Asteria did not blink.
“This is the heart of a major faction,” Cassian continued, as smoothly as silk. “We do not rule through the power of old monsters and hereditary titles, but do not mistake that for helplessness. The Crimson Wheel has recourse. We have always had recourse.”
Behind him, the knight shifted.
It was barely more than a minute shift in weight, a rebalancing while at rest, but the room changed with it. Orion felt it first in his throat, as the air went dry, then in his fingers, which had been holding his fork with casual ease a moment earlier. The utensil suddenly felt too heavy, as if he were a child lifting a lead weight.
He swallowed, suddenly nervous about where things were heading.
Ser Jorvan’s presence spread outward like a tide, filling every corner, pressing against Orion’s skin and then deeper, against the reptilian part of his brain. Orion’s stump tingled where it rested on the thick carpet, and a humiliating urge rose inside him to curl inward, to make himself small.
Am I going to die here, caught in the middle of a fight between titans? The irony of surviving hunting a dragon, only to go here.
Asteria’s aura flared in response, cold and vast, but before that Damocles’ sword could fall and disaster could strike, the knight’s presence withdrew.
Without it making it hard to think, it was easy to understand what it was. A warning, nothing more. A demonstration that could have been an execution if they wanted it.
Orion’s cutlery softly clinked against the plate as his hand trembled.
Asteria’s face remained expressionless, but she tilted her head slightly. “I will remember that,” she said, and her tone carried no submission, only acknowledgment.
Cassian exhaled slowly and placed his hands on the table. “Taking Carat,” he said, “would not have been my first choice.”
He spoke casually, but Orion could sense the tension beneath it, the effort it took to keep his words measured. Maedra watched them all with those sharp, disinterested eyes, sipping her tea, but he never forgot that she, too, was a tier four.
“The old ruling council,” Cassian continued, “the merchant princes who were supposed to guide the Consortium, have been siphoning resources for years, and I’m not talking about petty theft everyone expects. This isn’t just a few thousand golds shaved off the top. They’ve systematically and deliberately worked to drain the coffers.”
Asteria’s attention sharpened at that. Some embezzlement was nothing new, especially among merchants, but Cassian was making it seem like there was much more going on.
“They were also selling our arms and enchanted items at a premium,” Cassian continued. “To both the elves and the necromancers, and they replenished nothing, treating our defenses like a warehouse to be stripped, and relying entirely on mercenaries for contract work.”
Pauline’s shadows moved at Orion’s left, Eire’s fingers gripped her cup more tightly, and the two Magistrae shared a glance that Orion couldn't interpret, but it wasn’t a happy one.
Cassian’s jaw clenched. “I discovered it two years ago.”
Orion's eyebrows lifted. Two years is a long time to wait before taking action.
Cassian seemed to know that was a common thought. “You may think I should have moved immediately,” he said. “So did I, but I had to face reality. They held the contracts with the mercenaries and the guards' loyalty. They had the accounting rights and the right sigils to access the coffers. I realized that if I moved without preparation, the only thing I would accomplish would be my own execution, and they would continue their work undisturbed.”
His hand curled, then flattened again against the polished wood. “So I built outside of their sight, biding my time. Production lines to replenish our stocks of weapons and enchanted items, trade contracts that ran through my people, not theirs. A network of warehouses and small workshops. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was necessary.”
Maedra’s teacup clicked softly as she set it down. “He gathered like-minded partners,” she said, taking over with practiced ease. “Many men and women were tired of watching Carat’s lifeblood turn into private fortunes, even if they didn’t know the full extent of the corruption.”
Cassian’s eyes grew distant, as if he were staring at something.
“And then,” Maedra said, her tone almost conversational, “he had to strike first.”
She seems to have enjoyed the process more than anyone else.
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“A coup is not a nice thing,” she continued. “It requires a spark for the violence to erupt, or the council would have strangled any formal move with procedure and polite outrage. They would have called him ambitious and unstable, a threat to Carat’s order. And the city would have listened, because the council had spent decades becoming synonymous with stability.”
Cassian’s throat bobbed, but he did not interrupt.
“So,” Maedra said, “he took matters into his own hands and personally eliminated one of the merchant princes."
Given the weight she spoke with, it was easy to see that she was just scratching the surface of what really happened.
Cassian’s eyes remained fixed on Asteria. “He was my mentor,” he said softly. “He taught me how to read a room and how to break a man without raising my voice. He also showed me how to smile while fleecing a poor schmuck out of everything. I wanted to believe I could pull him back from it.”
His mouth twisted. “I was wrong.”
Asteria’s fingers tapped on the table as she considered him. “And the rest followed,” she finally said.
Cassian nodded once. “Once the first fell, the others either ran or tried to wield the power of the state. Some were arrested with the booty still in their hulls, and some were executed by their own men. Some died resisting. It was ugly.”
He paused, then added, “The dragon incident happened at the very last moment, just as I was about to take control. At the worst possible time, really.”
Orion’s gaze flicked to the windows, then to the gardens beyond, filled with sculpted hedges and sunlight. It was hard to imagine blood in a place like this. That, he suspected, was the reason it had been designed this way.
Asteria studied Cassian quietly for a moment before speaking again. “Did you recover the wealth?” she asked.
It was such a simple question that Orion almost overlooked it, but he noticed the young leader’s face harden and saw a subtle shift in Maedra’s eyes.
Cassian’s smile vanished completely. “Only a portion,” he said.
Maedra looked like she wanted to spit venom. “Enough to keep the city functioning and to rebuild,” she said, “but not enough to replenish what was taken.”
“How much?” Asteria asked.
Cassian’s gaze did not waver. “A hundred millions.”
That wasn't the kind of money that could be stolen overnight. You needed caravans, ships, ports, contracts, warehouses, thousands of mouths to feed, and hands to bribe.
Orion could feel Cassian’s frustration in the room like heat. For a man who ruled by trade, the missing coin was not just theft, but an insult. He’d been too slow.
“That,” Cassian said, “is why I invited you.”
Asteria’s brow rose a fraction. “You invited us because you cannot find your own coin.”
“The trail ends too abruptly," he answered. “It makes no sense that they could do it without outside help.”
Now that is an interesting accusation. I wonder who he suspects it to be? Vampires are always quick to stir chaos, and the Dragonspire Dominion is already under intense scrutiny after their recent actions. Could it be a surprise faction? I suppose the dwarves would also have a solid enough trading network, especially for rare materials.
Cassian leaned forward, fingers steepled. “We traced the flow through our ledgers, captains, and merchants handling transactions. We identified the ports they used, but they were all small trading towns unlikely to circulate such wealth without leaving a trace. Yet there is no trace, no trail beyond that point."
“Or as if it had left our world of trade entirely,” Maedra suggested smoothly.
Orion felt himself go still.
Cassian didn’t let the sudden silence stop him. “I suspect an outside force has infiltrated the major factions' ranks. Something beyond the Magocracy that has been watching for a long time and is now trying to widen our internal fractures.”
“To what end?” Asteria asked, though the fact that she wasn’t dismissing it meant more than any specific word.
“To test us. To see which faction turns on which, and if we can be pushed into civil war while the south already strains us,” Cassian replied.
“And where does Behenien fit into this?” Asteria asked. “You believe this is connected to her, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
Cassian nodded. “A dragon does not slip into the Belt without a gap being made. Checkpoints fail, yes, but not all at once, nor in a way that would let that many pass unnoticed. Someone tested our defenses, Veil Priestess. They wanted to see what would happen if a crisis hit at the wrong time.”
Maedra’s smile was thin. “And it worked. We were slow, divided, and we nearly lost Stillport.”
He is telling the truth, Orion thought. Not the whole truth, but then again, no faction leader ever reveals everything. Still, the basics are real.
The meal went on for a while after that, but the wonder of it had long since faded with the string of revelations. Servants appeared to clear plates with downcast eyes, and Cassian’s expression returned to a calm, placid look.
When it was time to leave, Cassian moved around the table and stopped Asteria before she could turn.
“Veil Priestess,” he said, and then, softer, “a word?”
Asteria tilted her head, and for a moment, Orion considered staying because curiosity was a disease he had never properly cured. Then his mother’s gaze flicked toward him, and he knew without a doubt that he shouldn’t push it.
He departed with the others, guided by the lead mage, and waited in the hall.
When Asteria appeared again, her face was unchanged, but Orion could sense the faint tension in the air around her, and he knew it couldn’t have been good.
Cassian followed them to the wing's doors, while Maedra remained behind, watching with her bright, patient eyes, and Ser Jorvan stood exactly where he had the entire time, massive and silent.
At the threshold, Cassian stepped toward Orion and extended his hand.
Orion hesitated.
This isn't just a peer. This guy is on the verge of tier four and is a faction leader. But I can’t dismiss him either, I suppose.
He took the hand, shook once, then released.
“I hope,” Cassian said, “that our next meeting can be in a more relaxed setting, Master Orion.”
Orion offered a polite smile. “I will endeavor to survive long enough to make that possible.”
Cassian’s eyes gleamed, as if he appreciated the wit. “That’s good.”
The return trip was quieter.
The escort guided them back through the gardens, passing geometric hedges and statues overlooking the artificial lake. The wide streets of Carat welcomed them again once they stepped into the carriage, as the city’s display of normalcy went on seamlessly.
They returned to the arming field by the docks, where the chest sat under guard exactly as promised. The soldiers looked relieved to see them return without incident, and Orion wondered how many of them seriously worried that Elder Candra would seek revenge if they moved away.
The lid opened, and the brooms were put away, then they took to the air again, joining the flock. The army reformed in a shifting formation and began moving east in a disciplined flow, staying just beyond the city.
Only after Carat fell behind them, its cranes and ward-towers shrinking into the distance, did Asteria speak.
“Cassian Auric,” she said, “is a very dangerous person.”
Orion glanced at her. “Did he threaten you?”
Asteria’s gaze remained forward, fixed on the horizon. “No, but he didn’t need to.”
Orion snorted softly. “That is not particularly reassuring.”
Asteria didn't smile, but her lips twitched. “Do not underestimate men who rule by charm,” she said. “He was forced to move before he was ready to cross into tier four, but he still managed to take over a major faction.”
Orion’s mind drifted back to the missing millions, to the idea of coins vanishing into nothingness. “Do you think his theory is correct?” he asked. “About an outside force?”
Asteria’s voice was calm. “We will have to find out for ourselves.”
That was not a no, but it was the only honest answer.
She continued, almost as an afterthought, “It is not without merit.”
After hours of flying, Orion saw that the sky was beginning to darken, but when he checked its position, he realized it was much too early.
Yet shadow crept across the world from the east, swallowing the light in a slow, unnatural tide. The air cooled, and the colors of the land below dulled as if someone had washed them in ash.
They were about to enter the Twilight Hordes’ lands, the domain of vampires.
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