Once the coast was clear, Nessa let out a long sigh and slouched. "Phew... Glad that's over! Keeping appearances can be exhausting. Acting all professional is not something I'm used to. But it seems like they bought it, so it wasn't a total loss."

  Lithero floated up to her shoulder. "You were terrifying back there, master. I think you might’ve shaved a few years off Sic’s life just by looking at him."

  "Good," Nessa replied with a faint smirk. "Fear keeps people in line. It’s not my favorite method, but it works when dealing with scum like them."

  The earth spirit then turned to Salph. "Yeah, especially when Salph used a spell to keep them in check. I never knew you had the strength to cast something so intimidating and widespread!"

  Salph and Nessa shared a glance, and they both sighed.

  "Lithy, Sal cast nothing on them. That was just a ruse to keep them in line," Nessa explained, shaking her head. "The fear of what might happen is often more effective than any actual spell. They don’t know the difference, and I’m not about to correct them. The unblessed are absolutely terrified of sorcerers simply because they don’t understand how we work. To them, the idea that Sal could steal the air from their lungs with a snap of her fingers is just as believable as her actually doing it. Fear of the unknown is a powerful tool."

  Salph nodded. "It is less effort this way. Why waste my energy on a spell when I can let their imaginations do all the work for me?"

  Lithero let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his arms into the air. "You two are way too good at this. Here I was, thinking I’d just witnessed some high-level magic, and it turns out it was all just pretend! Now I feel stupid for being the only one who believed it."

  "Incorrect. You and Black Grit are the only ones who believe it," Salph reminded.

  "Even so, I fell for it. That’s embarrassing enough. You could’ve given me a heads-up, you know!"

  Nessa smirked, grabbing a palm sized emerald and a small vial out of her storage device and handing it over to Lithero. "Where’s the fun in that, Lithy? Watching you look so impressed was the highlight of my night."

  Lithero’s eyes widened as he accepted the emerald, his glow intensifying with delight. "A bribe to soothe my wounded pride? I accept, master. You truly are too kind!"

  The spirit opened his mouth wide and bit into the gemstone as if it were an apple. A loud crunch echoed through the night as Lithero’s teeth sank into the emerald, tiny shards of glowing green splintering off before dissolving into faint wisps of light. His glow brightened further, casting a soft radiance across Nessa and Salph.

  "Ahh, refreshing," Lithero said with a satisfied sigh, wiping his tiny hands on his leafy dress. "Nothing like a quality gem to recharge the old mana reserves. Thanks, master!"

  Nessa smiled and uncorked the vial sloshing with a warm yellow color and gestured at Salph. The spirit floated toward the vial and allowed Nessa to pour the entire bottle. With a wave of her hand, Salph conjured a wind and suspended the golden liquid mid-air. Slowly, she drank the concoction until nothing remained.

  "I'll need you two to return to the Sorcerer Plane at the moment," Nessa said, storing the empty vial. "I'll hold things down here while you two and I recharge."

  "No problem at all, master!" Lithero said with a thumbs up.

  "As you wish," Salph added, nodding.

  In a flash, both spirits condensed into balls of light and were whisked into Nessa's chest, melting into her skin until there was darkness. Her chest felt warm briefly, and the constant drain upon her beating mana heart noticeably stopped. She could already feel her reservior replenishing now that the two spirits were gone.

  For Conjuration Sorcerer's, there was a constant drain to their mana hearts whenever a spirit was summoned out of the Sorcerer Plane. That was because their spirits existed as extensions of their own magical energy, tethered to the Sorcerer Plane but sustained in the mortal realm by the conjurer’s mana. The longer a spirit remained outside, the more mana it consumed, and while this was manageable for short durations, extended summonings could leave a conjurer dangerously depleted.

  Whenever a spirit used magic, the strain on the conjurer’s mana heart increased exponentially. This was because a spirit's spells didn't draw from their own independent reserve—they pulled directly from the conjurer's mana pool. The more powerful or complex the spell, the greater the toll.

  The same could be said for the kind of spirit summoned. There were an array of factors that came into play, such as the spirits element, tier, and bond. The longer a sorcerer worked with a spirit, the more attuned they became to each other’s energies. A well-trained bond could slightly lessen the drain, allowing for more efficient mana usage and even enabling some advanced conjurers to channel their spirits’ magic without suffering as much strain.

  Regarding tiers, spirits were classified into tiers based on their strength, complexity, and magical potency. Tier one spirits, like Lithero and Salph, required minimal energy to maintain and could be kept summoned for long periods. Tier two and three spirits demanded a noticeable drain, particularly when casting spells.

  And tier four and five, sometimes called greater Honored Spirits, were incredibly rare and powerful, consuming vast amounts of mana even in a dormant state. Setting up a contract or even controlling Honored Spirits were akin to taming dragons: impossible to most. Only two Conjuration Sorcerers were able to achieve such a feat, yet to say that they controlled them was far-fetched given that they died right after summoning them. At least, that is what historical texts have stated which every Conjuration Sorcerer are forced to read during their basic studies.

  "I would love to foster a bond with Honored Spirits if it weren't for the fact that there's a one-hundred percent death rate. Regretable as it might be, but I think I'll stick with what I have. The cuties I have a contract with right now are more than enough."

  Whistling, Nessa pulled out a magical tool—a communication device small enough to fit on top of her palm—from her amulet. She inched closer and whispered "Captain Kalavan" while also inputting a miniscule of mana into the device. It shook slightly, and the exterior glowed white. Following shortly after, a screen that was both translucent and white appeared above the item. After about three seconds have passed, the face of a rugged man appeared, his sleek, long hair tied into a loose-hanging tail.

  Captain Kalavan's brows scrunched together upon seeing Nessa's face. "Nessa... If you're calling me right now, that means you've learned something about your investigation."

  Nessa saluted, even if it wasn't necessary. "Captain Kalavan, you're looking sharp as always. You'd be a heartthrob if you smiled more; ditch the scowl."

  Kalavan’s frown deepened. “Nessa.”

  “Alright, alright, I’ll keep the flattery to a minimum. But yes, you’re right. I’ve got something.” She leaned in, lowering her voice slightly. “That lead we were chasing? Turns out it wasn’t a total dead end. I managed to ‘convince’ a certain someone to talk, and now I’ve got a location.”

  Kalavan’s expression remained unreadable, but the way his fingers drummed against the edge of the screen betrayed his interest. “And?”

  “There’s a shipment moving through Naula. Not just any shipment, either—orphans and anyone that wouldn't be missed. Scourge and the Black Grit made a deal to exchange these missing persons for cash. They'll be enacting this exchange at the Crossroads. I'll be intercepting the meeting while hiding in the shadows, learning anything I can about Scourge. I don't know how long it'll take; these messengers don't have a set schedule."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  There was a pause on the other end of the connection. There was even a bit of groaning happening in the background. Judging by the tone of voice, it belonged to a man, and he was probably hurt or something similar. The captain was probably in the middle of his own interrogation.

  Where was Captain Kalavan anyway? He hadn't told the rest of the Royal Knights what he'd been doing after his search for Doyle ended months ago. While it took a while, the captain captured Doyle far south of the capital. There, he was in a remote village with a carriage full of coin and personal possessions. That man was trying to disappear, but Kalavan caught up to him before he could vanish completely. Doyle had been living under an assumed name, blending in with the locals, but the captain wasn’t one to let his prey slip away.

  When Captain Kalavan found him, Doyle had been prepared—hired muscle, a few layers of magical wards, and an escape route. But none of it was enough. The captain broke through his defenses, took down his guards, and left the so-called noble bleeding in the dirt. After that, Doyle was forced back to the capital and tossed into a cellar where he would be punished for his crimes.

  Nessa wondered if the captain regretted not killing him outright. Doyle was rotting in a prison cell now, but his connections still ran deep. Some nobles thought it was only a matter of time before he bought his way out. Those were foolish thoughts to have, given that the Imperial Court cannot be bribed whatsoever.

  She refocused as Kalavan finally spoke again, stroking his chin.

  "If what you say is true, then what is Scourge's true purpose? Setting up an activation rune in some warehouse and spreading corrupted mana in the Wasteful Wetlands can be correlated to causing mayhem for whatever reason, but stealing orphans? What purpose does that serve?"

  Nessa thought about it for a moment. "Maybe to increase their ranks? Orphans can be recruited and brainwashed quite easily to achieve whatever nefarious plot they're planning."

  "But is it that simple?" the captain mumbled. "If they needed more manpower, there are easier ways to recruit. Mercenaries, deserters, criminals—people willing to sell their loyalty for coin. But targeting orphans and the forgotten? That feels more deliberate."

  "You're right. There has to be another reason. Maybe they're looking for something specific. Orphans wouldn’t be missed, yeah, but that also means no one would ask questions if they vanished. It’s the perfect cover for… well, anything."

  Another silence ensued between the two. It was difficult coming up with any other possibilities without further information. The pieces didn’t quite fit together yet. What did spreading corrupted mana and kidnapping have in common? The former alongside the warehouse incident in Valis can be seen as Scourge trying to do something to the environment and causing trouble for the empire, but kidnapping innocent people? There had to be a deeper reason for it. Whatever sick reason they've thought of, Scourge were a detestable bunch, nonetheless.

  Kalavan exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as he considered the implications. "We need more information. Right now, we’re chasing shadows, and Scourge is one step ahead. So far, they've scrubbed any trace potentially left behind."

  "I’ll find out soon enough," Nessa said. "Once I get to the Crossroads, I’ll stick to the shadows and see who’s pulling the strings. If I can grab one of their messengers, I’ll make them talk."

  Kalavan's expression darkened. "Just don’t be reckless. We can’t afford to lose you, not when we’ve finally caught another lead."

  Nessa smirked. "Oh, you do care."

  He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he nodded sharply. "Keep me updated. The moment you learn something concrete, you report back. Understood?"

  "Crystal clear, Captain," she said, giving a mock salute. With that, the screen flickered off, and she was left alone with her thoughts. She turned her gaze toward the sky above.

  The stars were few and dull, while the moon was just a crescent. In some cultures, a crescent moon symbolized the coming of a new season, new beginnings of some kind. It also signified the time where a person grew from what they were before. Whether those new beginnings were good or bad for the unforeseeable future was to be determined.

  But, from the sudden development that the Lethos Empire has recently undergone, the future that was once a golden ray of sunshine had dark splotches, which were ominous clouds of uncertainty. It was the Royal Knights of Lethos' sworn duty to vanquish—clean what may ruin a perfect tapestry. To remove scum from the empire before rot set in too deep.

  A gust of wind sent a chill through her coat, snapping her from her thoughts. Below the Black Grit building, a group of men spilled out from the front entrance. Like ants, they separated, entering the winding alleys, disappearing into the shadows of the city.

  Nessa watched as the last of Sic’s men vanished into the alleys of Naula, their hurried steps lost in the night. She exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The hard part was over—at least for now. Sic had taken the bait, and soon, she would have her eyes on Scourge’s messengers. Word of Black Grit’s new management may spread quickly to other factions that may be present.

  When making the threat to Sic, Nessa had to sell her demonstration. To instill enough fear for Sic and his cronies to forgo any thought of escaping Naula or outright defying her. The unblessed—those who do not carry the blessing of Sthito—were terribly afraid of a sorcerer's power.

  In the perception of many, sorcerers held a position of untouchability and superiority. Some feared them, others revere them, but all understood that defying one often led to ruin. Nessa knew how to exploit that belief, weaving half-truths and veiled threats to maintain control without wasting unnecessary energy. Let their ignorance think she had marked them with a death spell—fear alone would keep them in line far better than constant surveillance.

  Still, she couldn't rely solely on intimidation. The moment they sensed weakness, they would turn on her. To preempt any opportunistic attempts, however unsuccessful, she had to consolidate her hold on Black Grit.

  While she waited for Black Grit to be rounded up, Nessa stayed on the rooftop, surveying as she regained her mana. Because of Lithero and Salph, her mana heart's capacity decreased by twenty percent throughout their summoning. A spirit's capability of using magic came directly from their summoners' reservoir, and their spells would consume whatever mana was available. So, in the meantime, resting was imperative.

  ***

  Sic gnawed at his fingernails, his nerves fraying with each passing second. The first floor of the Black Grit building reeked of sweat, fear, and stale liquor, but he barely noticed. His mind was occupied with the storm Nessa had unleashed upon him and his men. Black Grit had always operated away from the Royal Knights' eyes, its survival dependent on subtlety. Now, a damn Royal Knight had waltzed in and upended everything in a single night.

  He stole a glance at the crowd of men gathered around him. Some were pacing, others muttered to themselves, plotting their own escape routes or, more likely, weighing the benefits of betraying him. The threat of Nessa’s supposed spell still hung over the few present during her intrusion, but fear had a way of fading when desperation took hold.

  "We can’t just sit here and wait for her to pull the strings," one of his lieutenants, Jor, hissed. His scarred knuckles clenched into fists. "We’re not her lackeys!"

  Sic wiped the sweat from his brow. "What choice do we have? You saw what she did, what she’s capable of. And you heard her spirits—if she’s telling the truth, then one wrong move means we suffocate before we can even think of running."

  "And if she’s lying? If it’s all a bluff?"

  Sic hesitated. He wanted to believe it was all for show, but that tiny woman was using fear as her weapon alongside those wicked powers of hers. But he had seen enough sorcerers in his time to know better. Even if she hadn’t cast a spell yet, she could. And if she did, it would be the end of them.

  There were no sorcerers in his ranks that were in Naula currently, as they were stationed in nearby towns and cities. It would take three days at most to round them up all up in Naula and possibly retaliate against the Royal Knight. Even then, they were Apprentice Sorcerers, and their numbers could be counted on one hand. Against a singular Royal Knight, those men would be nothing more than a brief annoyance.

  Three days was an eternity when dealing with someone from the capital. If she tightened her grip any further before he could organize a counter, it wouldn’t matter how many sorcerers he had. He needed time, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. It took only three months to regain his rightful position as the leader of Black Grit for cracks to appear. Cracks left alone turn into chasms that cannot be crossed.

  "We play along," Sic finally said, his voice steadying. "For now."

  Jor's eyes darkened with resentment, but he nodded. "And then?"

  Sic took a slow breath. "Then we find a way to turn this to our advantage. We learn what we can about her, about her weaknesses. She thinks she has us caged. Maybe, just maybe, we can be the ones to set the trap. We will follow her whims, take our time, and strike at the most opportune time. The death of a Royal Knight by our hands would surely boost our name across the land. And besides..."

  He leaned over, whispering. "I heard Scourge has an opening lined up as a faction leader to replace that dumbass Sezor. Apparently, he had been felled at the hands of the Royal Knights. He was in charge of Valiedge and the settlements closest to the eastern front. That position is ours if we play this right."

  "And you think Scourge will just hand it to us?"

  "Not if we ask. But if we prove ourselves? If we show them we can take down a Royal Knight? They’ll have no choice but to acknowledge us. That's why we will wait. Patience rewards those who seize their opportunity. We will talk more about the plot later. Dont mention this to anyone, even to the intruder. Keep your mouth shut if she were to threaten you. I'll reward you handsomely once I become a faction leader. Our smuggling operations would increase drastically, meaning we'll have dens of sil to use at our leisure."

  Jor grinned at the promise of riches. Both men sneered at the thought of claiming a seat in Scourge. Sic was given a glimpse of the organization's capabilities, and he was shocked that such a powerful group had gone unheard of for years. What he had seen, although small, was enough to convince him that no matter what, getting on their good side was the only path forward. For now, they would bide their time. But when the moment came, they would strike. It was through Yutar's will that Scourge approached first that a favorable outcome had arisen.

  Their snickering stopped when the Royal Knight burst in with her two spirits.