The Wanderer buried his nervousness beneath a mask of annoyance. He reached out with his single hand and pushed the tip of the nearest spear away from his throat.
“That was a lie, indeed,” he said, he looked directly at the head noble. “Why on earth would I tell a stranger I just met in a tavern that Captain Zeek took pity on a crippled veteran and smuggled me into a noble house? If the wrong ears heard that, the Captain would lose his post, and I’d lose my head.”
The man at the head of the table stared at him through the hollow eyes of his porcelain mask, with a wave of his hand, the noble signaled the guards. The spears lowered from the Wanderer's neck as the men stepped back into the shadows.
“Apologies for the misunderstanding,” the noble said smoothly. “But under the circumstances, you will have to excuse our caution.”
The Wanderer faked a deep anger, turning toward Roger. “Is this how you treat true Valorians, Roger? Dragging me into a basement just to put steel to my throat?”
Roger merely shrugged, leaning against a stone pillar. “Survival of the fittest, friend. We had to be sure.”
“I said excuse our caution,” the head noble repeated, commanding. “Enough of this.” The harshness vanished as quickly as it came, replaced once more by an elegant, welcoming cadence. “Please, take a seat.”
The Wanderer paused, then reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat down.
“You can call me Zero,” the man at the head of the table said, spreading his hands wide. He pointed a finger toward the side of the room. “You are already familiar with Roger, our recruiter. As for the rest around the table... These are the Nine Owls.”
The Wanderer reached for a crystal glass of wine sitting on the table in front of him. “And what exactly is it that you do... Zero?”
“We aim to reform Valoria,” Zero replied, his masked face tilting upward. “The rat infestation plaguing our streets is our immediate priority.”
The Wanderer let out a mocking grin. “That’s one thing we certainly agree on. But why stop at the new arrivals? If you ask me, we need to get rid of all the refugees.”
Zero let out a laugh, clapping his hands together. “That kind of enthusiasm is exactly what we need in our ranks! A true patriot.”
The noble leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table . “Anyway, enough with the introductions. Let’s get down to business.”
Zero turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the masked nobles lining the table.
“We currently have multiple plans in progress to weaken the refugees' position within the city,” Zero explained, his voice turning cold. “The King’s sympathy for these parasites will dry up once they become too costly, and too dangerous to keep.”
“You will take part in our next mission,” Zero said, facing the Wanderer.
“And what would that be?” the Wanderer asked.
“Destroying the Mage Seekers’ headquarters,” Zero replied flatly. “With magic.”
The Wanderer’s eyes widened, a cold spike of horror piercing through his facade. “But…” he stuttered, forcing the words out, “I don’t have magic. I’m a warrior.”
Zero let out a chuckle from behind his mask. “We don’t need you to actually cast anything. We just need it to look like magic.”
The Wanderer felt a quiet surge of relief wash over him, though he fought hard to keep his expression locked down. “How?”
“We have obtained a volatile, magical explosive device,” Zero proceeded to explain, leaning over the table. “You will infiltrate their perimeter and plant it deep within their compound. When it detonates, the residual mana will scream of sorcery. It will turn the Mage Seekers entirely against the refugee camp, igniting a holy purge right in the heart of the capital.” He tapped his ring. “Remember, before you leave, you must carve the words 'Draemir Forever' in a highly visible spot. The investigators must find it immediately.”
The Wanderer nodded. “Understood.”
“Roger will provide you with the exact timing when the day comes,” Zero continued, gesturing toward the recruiter. “You will not be told the date in advance. Be prepared to execute the mission at a moment's notice, on any given day.”
The Wanderer paused, faking a slight offense. “You still don't trust me?”
“You are a military man,” Zero countered. “Surely you are aware of how rankings work. Further information is simply above your current rank.” The noble straightened his posture, his tone turning dismissive. “We have other matters to discuss now that do not concern you. Take your leave.”
The Wanderer stood, and headed to the door.
“Not so fast,” Roger said, stepping out from the shadows, holding the blindfold.
The Wanderer shot a look of disapproval toward the head of the table.
“Security measures, my friend,” Zero said, “Don’t take it personally.”
The Wanderer let out a heavy sigh, standing still as Roger stepped up and tightly wrapped the blindfold over his eyes once more.
The guards took his shoulders and guided him out of the underground chamber. Just like before, they led him in disorienting circles, marching him through the oily-smelling tunnels until they finally pulled the cloth from his face. He found himself standing in the dark alleyway beside The Hand of Justice.
The Wanderer turned to the recruiter, who was leaning against the tavern wall. “You’re the only one who shows his face in that room?”
Roger smirked, tossing the blindfold into his pocket. “I’m the only handsome one.”
Ignoring the joke, the Wanderer pressed, “Doesn’t that put you at extreme risk?”
“High risk, high reward, my friend,” Roger said, already backing into the deeper shadows of the alley. “See you soon.” He gave a brief wave of his hand and vanished into the dark.
The Wanderer turned and walked back toward the Bradford manor, his mind spinning into a dark spiral of calculations. Did the Nine Owls somehow sense the dormant magic within his chest? Was this mission a double-blind trap designed to frame him specifically, knowing he was a refugee? He stared down at his hands in the moonlight, sweating under the terrifying realization that he didn’t know just how far their knowledge -or their network- truly reached.
The next morning, Zeek’s messenger slipped into the Wanderer’s room.
The Wanderer briefed the events of the previous night in whispers, the underground chamber, the Nine Owls, Zero, and the plot to bomb the Mage Seeker headquarters.
The messenger listened, his face paling. He rubbed his jaw, thinking deeply for a moment. “This is far worse than we thought.”
“It seems the Nine Owls were formed long before the Draemiran refugees ever arrived,” the Wanderer replied. “The refugees are just a convenient target.”
“I’ll have to brief the captain,” the messenger said, pacing the small room. “But... you will probably have to carry out the mission.”
The Wanderer stood up, stepping into the man's path. “That’s too dangerous. It will completely destroy the refugees' position in Valoria. The holy purge Zero talked about will become a reality.” He kept his tone sharp, carefully hiding his true, deeper intentions, the terrifying risk of his own magical nature being exposed to the Seekers if he went anywhere near their compound.
“If this is the kind of operation they give to a newcomer, they likely have far worse plans already in motion,” the messenger countered, looking directly into the Wanderer’s eyes. “You must join their inner circle. We need to know who is behind those masks.”
“This isn’t even guaranteed to get me in,” the Wanderer snapped back. “What if it’s a setup? For all we know, they might know I’m Draemiran.”
“That is a risk you will have to take,” the messenger said flatly. He glanced toward the window, checking the morning light. “I have to leave now. And we can’t meet like this anymore. It would draw much attention.”
“Then how will I contact Zeek?” the Wanderer asked.
“If the captain approves the operation to continue, I will hang a green ribbon on the large oak tree in the garden,” the messenger explained, already moving toward the door. “If he calls it off, I’ll hang a red one. Check it tomorrow morning. From here on out, we do not communicate until further notice. For the time being, you are a Valorian veteran, and nothing else.”
With a final glance down the hallway, the messenger slipped out, leaving the Wanderer drowning in his thoughts.