Chapter 61: Behind Bars

  Nathanel Veyth had lived through a few unpleasant nights in his life, but this one settled firmly on the stranger side. After the inquisitor Lucien left him, the guards marched him back into a small stone cell, and when the heavy iron door locked behind him, Nathanel felt something sink low in his stomach. He understood immediately that this wasn’t a situation he could simply talk his way out of, because the Church would send an official inquiry to Veythral, and once they received the response, everything he had buried would surface again.

  They would know how he had left the Ecclesia. They would know he had never been a Brother Emeritus. They would know he had run, that he had been a coward clutching forged papers and a handful of stolen relics to kickstart his career as an auctioneer. And they would also learn that he had carved a life for himself in Tiara, a life built through blood and stubborn resolve, a life that had belonged to him for fifteen long years. And it was now about to end.

  So how in all the hells did I end up here…?

  He sat on the cold bench and rubbed his arms, though it did nothing to ease the burn beneath his skin. He still hadn’t seen his reflection, but he could feel the scorched patches along his cheek and jaw and even down his throat. Whatever had happened in that damned summoning circle had marked him, and the pain was a constant reminder.

  As the hours slowly passed, Nathanel waited for the inquisitor to return, bracing himself for another round of questions he couldn’t answer. But the hours dragged on in thick, unmoving silence, and Lucien didn’t come back. No guard appeared either, and there was no water, no bread, not even the slightest movement near the barred window in the door. Slowly, the night slipped by in a haze of pain, rising hunger, and cold that crept into his bones. He listened for any sound in the hallway, hoping for even a footstep or a shifting shadow, but the corridor beyond his cell remained completely still.

  Did they forget about me...? No. The Ecclesia doesn’t forget anything! They want something else…

  Morning came, though he only knew it by the dim change in light leaking through the small barred window near the ceiling. Nothing else changed. The guards who usually paced the hall never appeared. The magic jammers set into the stone walls hummed faintly, pressing against him like an invisible weight. He tested them twice out of habit, trying to summon even the smallest spark of mana, but the suppression crushed it instantly. He could have shouted, but he refused to give them that. He wouldn’t beg for attention.

  Are they starving me now? Trying to soften me before the next interrogation?

  He leaned back against the wall and exhaled, then closed his eyes and forced himself to think clearly. He had always prepared for emergencies, because Veythral had taught him that safety was nothing more than a story people told themselves to sleep better. He had a bag hidden in a boarded gap behind the stables near the auction hall, tucked away in a place even an experienced bounty hunter wouldn’t think to search. Inside were gold crowns, forged papers with travel permits, and enough supplies to disappear within an hour if the day ever came. That hidden stash was his lifeline, the last thread he could rely on when everything else fell apart.

  If I could get even one skill through these jammers, I could break the hinges... Just one strike with full force. The door would never hold against that!

  But Nathanel knew there was probably no real chance to escape that way, because breaking the hinges would be loud enough to alert every guard in the building. He had hoped that his friends from the Noble Connoisseurs might help him, since they owed him favors and they were influential enough to move things quietly. Yet the moment an inquisitor of the Church took interest in a man, even nobles in Burm were helpless. No one wanted to stand between the Ecclesia and a target.

  Damn it, he cursed inwardly. And everything only because… because of what? Why can’t I remember anything?

  A sharp sting of helpless anger burned beneath his ribs, followed by something far heavier. Beneath it all, he felt a sadness he didn’t want to acknowledge. Fifteen years of work in Tiara, fifteen years of clawing his way toward a life he had built himself, and it seemed it would all end here, in a cold cell, because of a day he couldn’t recall.

  He pressed a hand to his temples. I don’t deserve this. I have paid for every step of my freedom. Why now? Why like this? He cursed the damn Church again, but anger alone wouldn’t change his fate. He had never been someone who surrendered easily, so he forced himself to think, even though desperation crept into his voice when he whispered to the empty cell.

  “I would do everything for another chance… I can’t go back to Veythral…”

  His words faded into the cold air. For a moment, there was only silence. And just like that, as if the gods had acknowledged his plea, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  Nathanel straightened at once, because for a heartbeat he feared Lucien had returned with more questions and more accusations. The steps came closer, and he braced himself for the inquisitor’s voice, but instead a familiar tone reached him.

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  “Well now, this is a sorry sight,” someone drawled.

  Nathanel blinked, stunned, and then recognition struck him like a shock. Gideon Vexley stood outside the bars with a smug grin on his face, dressed in one of his finely tailored coats and looking entirely out of place in the dingy corridor.

  For the first time in many years, Nathanel felt a rush of relief so sharp it almost hurt. He had never been so glad to see the old gentleman.

  “I’m glad to see you in high spirits, Nathanel,” Gideon said as he slid a key into the lock. The mechanism clicked, and the cell door swung open. “A few things changed since yesterday. But we would never forget a friend in need, right?”

  He looked Nathanel directly in the eyes, and Nathanel nodded slowly. “Of course not. But why are you here alone? How did you manage to drag me out? Did you bribe the guards? The inquisitor is bad news, Gideon. I don’t know how much time we have, but I probably need to leave town as soon as possible. If you help me with that, I’ll give you everything I leave behind.”

  Gideon laughed, the warm and careless kind he always used when he was hiding something. “As I said, old friend, much changed since yesterday. I wouldn’t recommend leaving before you’re brought into the picture. But I’m also curious how you ended up in that demonic summoning circle in the first place. We only have fragments of what happened. And if you don’t mind my lack of polite restraint, you look like a burn victim.”

  He gave Nathanel a pointed look, then gestured toward the corridor. Nathanel followed him out of the cell block, his legs stiff after sitting on stone for far too long.

  “Honestly,” Nathanel said, rubbing the side of his neck, “I can’t remember anything. I really don’t know what happened. One moment I was going to bed, and the next I was waking up in that circle surrounded by guards and the inquisitor.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh, and Gideon hummed thoughtfully.

  “Interesting,” Gideon said. “Very interesting. So, the entire day before yesterday is gone. It seems we have a few things to discuss. And if that’s the case, you probably don’t remember the friend I introduced in the Salon. Lysaria Greenwood. I think you should meet her again with us today.”

  They stepped out of the guard chambers, and Nathanel noticed once more that no guards were present anywhere in the hallway. The building felt abandoned, almost hollow. They pushed open the door to the street, and cold daylight spilled over them.

  Tiara, the city that had been his home for fifteen years, felt strange when he stepped outside. He couldn’t pinpoint what caused the shift in atmosphere, only that a tension ran beneath the familiar sounds of carts and voices. The air felt heavier, and there were far more people outside than there should have been at this hour. Morning crowds were usually thin, yet now groups stood in clusters, whispering sharply among themselves. Even the way they glanced toward the central district carried unease.

  What did I miss? he thought, unsettled. What happened while I was gone for barely more than thirty hours?

  The guardhouse stood only a few streets behind the Government Square, where the Cathedral of Light, the city castle, and the old town hall formed a grand triangle of stone and authority, while the official guild buildings nestled beside them in tight, orderly rows. Gideon walked with steady confidence in that direction, his steps unhurried, as if nothing around them was unusual at all.

  “Gideon,” Nathanel said, lowering his voice, “I really hope you didn’t forget that I’m not fond of meeting anyone from the Church. You’re not dragging me into some kind of audience, right?”

  Gideon didn’t slow down or even look back. He simply shook his head. “No one from the Church is present in Tiara anymore. To be precise, the Church is closed at the moment.”

  Nathanel stopped for half a breath, the question slipping out before he could stop it. “Wait… what?”

  They continued walking, and for Nathanel the pieces fell together in his mind. The guardhouse had been silent not because they had forgotten him, but because there had been no one left to remember he was there.

  Gideon let that sink in for a moment, then continued. “Since you can’t remember how you ended up in that circle, let me set a few things straight. Yesterday morning, I and a few other friends from the Salon wanted to go to the Church to throw our weight around. We wanted to get you out, or at least demand a meeting. But on our way, we witnessed something that was probably one of the most important events in recent history…”

  As they walked, he began recounting what had happened the day before. Gideon always had a precise way of speaking, cutting straight to the important moments without unnecessary flourish, and Nathanel listened as disbelief tightened in his chest with every detail. It all felt unreal, almost too large to fit into the twenty or thirty hours he had been locked in the cell, yet Gideon’s voice remained steady, as if he were simply reporting a matter of business.

  They turned into the Government Square, and when Nathanel had any doubts about what Gideon had said, the sight greeted him defused them all. On the large flagpole in the center of the plaza, a massive banner unfurled in the wind.

  The flag of the fallen Empire of Xares.

  He stared at it, stunned. He had appraised dozens of relics from the old empire, and he knew that symbol well. It was unmistakable. And it should not have existed in any official capacity for two hundred years, yet here it was, raised in the heart of Tiara for every citizen to see.

  “So,” Nathanel murmured, “it’s true...”

  “Quite fascinating to see the flag flowing again, isn’t it?” Gideon said, pausing beside him and also looking up. His tone carried the casual interest of a man discussing wine, not world-changing events.

  Nathanel only nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice.

  “And you still think it’s a good idea that I meet this Lady Greenwood you mentioned earlier?” he asked after a moment.

  Gideon nodded without hesitation. “Yes. She is a fellow lover of fine arts and a high-class merchant, but honestly far more than that. She is probably one of the most influential people to set foot in Tiara in a very long time. And also, you wanted to meet her before you were overwhelmed by those cultists you locked up in your auction hall. It is a pity you cannot remember what happened that day…”

  Nathanel let out a slow breath, grimacing at the reminder that he still had no idea how he had ended up in this situation in the first place. But if even half of what Gideon had said was true, the stakes had changed. And maybe the nightmare of being caught and forced to flee from the Church could turn out to be a rare chance to shape his own future in the end.

  “In that case,” Nathanel said quietly, “I trust your judgment.”

  Gideon smiled and motioned for him to follow.

  “Good,” he said. “Because she’s already waiting.”