Author's Preface
Zeek marched into the tavern, flanked by a disciplined platoon of Valorian guards.
Timothy slowly let go of the Wanderer’s collar, smoothing out his own fine silk sleeves. He turned a smile toward the doorway. "Came to join us, Captain?"
Zeek’s eyes swept across the tavern. "What's the occasion?"
The Wanderer turned to face the captain. "They already know everything, Captain. No need to play along anymore." He reached out and picked Zero’s mask from the counter, holding it up. "Timothy was Zero all along. And he is a Black Crown descendant. His entire family are mages, hidden within-"
Timothy threw his head back, letting out a laugh. "Such an outrageous accusation! You accuse the Hand of the King - the entire Morning Star family - of being mages? That’s rich..." His smile vanished, his eyes narrowing. "...coming from a Draemiran mage."
Zeek’s eyes snapped to the Wanderer in shock. But, he quickly regained his composure.
"The Wanderer works for me," Zeek declared, stepping past his men. He lifted his gaze at Timothy. "He was trusted to infiltrate and investigate your organization."
Timothy frowned mockingly. "What organization? Oh, you mean us? Last I checked, wearing masks isn't a crime in Valoria."
Zeek pointed at the grotesque glass jars. "And you think these are okay, too?"
Timothy grinned, leaning back against the shelves of liquor. "It was a popular delicacy a few centuries ago. I admit, it's outlawed now, and you're just doing your job. I get it." He pulled out a heavy pouch of coins, and tossed it onto the counter. "This should cover the fine."
Zeek stared at the pouch as his anger began to boil over. He started to pace the length of the bar, his hands behind his back. "Destroying Valorian buildings, disturbing the peace within the city gates, murdering refugees, kidnapping your own niece, conspiring to overthrow the crown, high treason... should I go on?"
Timothy mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Do you really think I would do all of that? That hurts, my friend. We are just a few bored nobles having a masquerade every now and then." He grinned, continuing.
"So... where is your evidence, Captain?"
Zeek stopped pacing, his eyes darting to the Wanderer.
The Wanderer stood up, and pulled his left arm from his shoulder socket, gritting.
"Here is your first piece of evidence," the Wanderer announced. "This arm was forged by illegally mixing high technology and forbidden magic. It uses a rare chemical medium called moon dew to mask the magic signature from the Mage Seekers' detection."
Then, the Wanderer reached into his uniform and pulled out a stack of rolled documents, slamming them onto the bar next to the jars.
"And this," the Wanderer continued, looking at Timothy, "is an extensive, written investigation detailing the entire logistics network, signed and verified by both Vincent and the Red Crowns."
Timothy shrugged. "That's fake." He looked at Zeek with a smug confidence. "You can ask the Red Crowns yourself; they will deny it. And I have never seen this mechanical arm before. It's the word of a high-ranking noble against a Draemiran."
Zeek sighed and reluctantly gestured to his men. "All of this isn't for me to decide. Capture everyone."
The tavern erupted into motion as the guards began cuffing everyone inside.
The Wanderer snapped to the captain. "You can't trust the judges, Zeek. A lot of them work for the Owls."
Zeek raised a hand. "Don't throw further accusations. This is a matter for the King to resolve anyway."
Timothy grinned as the guards clamped chains around his wrists. "Oh, I'm sure the King will be busy with a much more pressing matter... very soon."
Zeek ignored the threat, turning back to the Wanderer. "You will have to come with me too." The Wanderer stared blankly at him as Zeek stepped in closer, whispering. "For both your sake and this whole case... I hope you're not a mage." He looked back at his platoon. "Take them!"
The guards led the Wanderer and the captured members of the Owls out of the tavern and down into the dungeons beneath Valoria. The cramped cells were rapidly filled with the city’s own nobles.
A few hours passed until the prisoners finally settled into the quiet of the abyss.
The Wanderer leaned his head back against the wall of his cell, staring up at the ceiling. "Why do I always end up in a cell?" he muttered to himself.
From a few cages down, Timothy began singing.
"The itsy bitsy Wanderer climbed the Valorian sprout... down came the Owl and took the Wanderer out..."
The Wanderer let out a dark chuckle, walking over to the iron bars. "Having fun?" he called out loudly.
Timothy replied. "Why wouldn't I? The plan is going perfectly. You're getting executed. I might even be happier with the second part."
"Do you really think Skida is your ally?" the Wanderer said, gripping the bars. "That cold bitch only cares about herself and herself alone."
"Trust is a big word," Timothy countered back. "Our goals align, that's all."
The Wanderer laughed. "Of course. She would just give up Valoria to you willingly, right? Or help you with the rituals of summoning this ancient beast. Besides, I don't think your friends here will follow you anymore, Black Crown."
Roger, sitting in the cell across from the Wanderer, leaned his head against his own bars and smiled. "You are missing the point, dear Wanderer. Skida wants the beast out."
Timothy continued. "And my friends over here approve of the fact that magic shouldn't be banned in Valoria. Having a Black Crown lead them to that freedom is a white lie I don't think they mind at all."
Their conversation was cut short by the screech of the dungeon doors open, followed by the echo of approaching footsteps.
Zeek marched into the corridor, flanked by his personal guard and a figure draped in robes. The captain stopped in front of the Wanderer’s cell, staring down at him.
"The Mage Seeker of the Black Sun Order is here to check everyone for magic," Zeek announced loudly.
The Wanderer looked up at them, his mind racing.
The Mage Seeker stepped forward, the emblem of a black sun emblazoned across his leather tabard. "Come forth," he commanded, gesturing with his hand.
The Wanderer reluctantly stood up, forcing his trembling muscles to move as he walked slowly toward the iron bars.
The Mage Seeker pulled out a device and began scanning it around the perimeter of the Wanderer’s body. The Wanderer began to sweat, his eyes darting left and right until his gaze locked onto the glowing core of the device, a Nullstone.
Suddenly, the device began to beep. The Mage Seeker’s brow furrowed, his eyes snapping up to look the Wanderer dead in the face.
“Think,” the Wanderer told himself, panic flaring. Remembering Serenya’s words about how the stones work, he reached deep down into the Spiral within and began pulling the Nullstone's energy out of the device.
But the method was entirely new to him, and his control was clumsy.
The device began to beep louder, followed by a buzzing flicker.
The Mage Seeker frowned, hitting the malfunctioning device against his palm.
Zeek stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
"The results are inconclusive," the Mage Seeker replied, shaking his head as he stared at the device. "He has traces of magic radiating from him, but... I am not entirely sure if it is his own."
The Wanderer jumped in desperately. "This must be because of the mechanical arm they gave me! It was forged using magic. You already have the arm, you can check it yourself!"
Zeek stared at him through the bars. His judgmental gaze felt as towering as the Valorian walls themselves.
In shame, the Wanderer diverted his gaze to the other side of the cell.
After a moment of silence, Zeek reluctantly spoke. "I believe him. Let's move to Timothy."
Timothy laughed from his cell. "The righteous Captain Zeek turns a blind eye just to keep his precious case alive? Oh, I have seen everything!"
Zeek strode over, standing in front of Timothy's cell. "Shut up and come closer for the check."
Timothy waved his hand. "Don't bother the old man."
He stood up, walking to the iron bars slowly. "I am a mage," he stated clearly.
He threw his head back, his voice echoing loudly through the dungeon block. "And all of Valoria will soon know Altharion's mistake in suppressing us! You will finally learn the true worth of the Black Crowns. When the end comes, you will all beg for the mages to save you!"
He took a step back and sat back down on his stone bench. "...whoever is left of you, anyway."
Zeek crossed his arms. "Are you done with the theatrics?" He stepped forward, grabbing the bars. "Your arrogance will be your demise, Black Crown."
Timothy tilted his head. "Hmmm... last I checked, Serenya is also my niece," he chuckled. "Despite her blonde hair... am I right, Captain?"
Zeek gritted his teeth, his eyes widening in shock.
The captain nodded slowly. "What did I expect from filth like-"
The city-wide alarms rang violently, cutting his sentence.
The guards panicked, drawing their weapons and looking around.
The Mage Seeker took a step back, his eyes darting toward the stairwell.
Timothy's smile only widened. "Right on time." He looked to the side, towards the Wanderer’s cell. "I didn't know the Draemirans were so punctual."