For the first time since the three men entered the room, a cold chill ran down Clarembald's spine. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "N-no... I mean, y-yes..."
"Is it yes or no?" the leader demanded, as his tone turned dark and heavy.
"A few months ago... the Arcane Watch had raided my hideout," the terrified scholar stammered, "I only had a few seconds to run, so I grabbed a handful of experimental scrolls and torched the whole lab behind me. I had to destroy my work so they couldn't get their hands on it. Then I sold those scrolls on the black market just to buy a new safehouse and start over."
"So Solara didn't keep them?" the leader asked, "Every single scroll that crossed the border came from you?"
"Look, I just sold them to whoever offered the most coin!" Clarembald panicked, "I didn't ask where they were taking them or how they planned to use them!"
"Have you ever heard of Veridia?" the leader pressed.
"Veridia? Yes, of course. The crown jewel of Tir Luthar. What about it?"
"Its ruler, Lord Elmsworth Thorne, was assassinated in his own court," the man said softly, "In front of his own people. Murdered by a Magic Missile scroll."
"But... but that wasn't me!" Clarembald gasped, "I don't even know the man!"
"It was your scroll that took his life."
"How can you possibly know that? It could have been any standard scroll!"
"Because at the exact spot where the spell was cast, my men found a foul, rotten stench," the leader stepped closer, "The exact smell YOU just described."
"You... you're..."
The second man shook his head in a bit frustration and gestured to the big guy, "Light the torches."
As bright warm torchlight flooded the underground cellar, Clarembald finally saw his captors clearly. He instantly recognized one of them- Blanche de Vergy, the owner cum manager of the Velvet Astrolabe. The big brute beside him was a local goon Clarembald did not know was in Blanche's payroll. But the third man, the leader, was someone Clarembald had never met in person. Even so, the rogue scholar could correctly guess his identity.
Standing before him was Lorian Thorne, the new Lord of Veridia and son of the murdered lord.
"My Lord!" Clarembald begged, agitating wildly against his bindings, "I know you're furious with me. You think my work killed your father. But please, think for a moment! If your noble father had been killed by a poisoned arrow, would you execute the alchemist who mixed the venom? Would you blame the bowyer who carved the wood? Or would you hunt down the assassin... and the bastard who hired him?"
Lorian stayed dead silent, his dark eyes were fixed on the mage.
Seeing no reaction, Clarembald pressed further, "My Lord, a blade is just a tool. It isn't good or evil. In the hands of a chirurgeon, it saves a life. In the hands of a killer, it ends one."
Lorian snapped. He threw a furious punch right past Clarembald's cheek, his fist smashing directly into the thick wooden pillar behind the chair. Wood splintered with a loud crack. Lorian pulled his hand back, blood dripping from deep splinters lodged in his knuckles.
He raised his other hand to quiet the alarmed men in the room, took a long, shaky breath, and rested his bleeding palm lightly on Clarembald's shoulder.
"Thank you for speaking sense to me," Lorian said quietly, his voice sounded dangerously smooth, "Forgive me. I let rage cloud my sight for a moment."
Lorian turned toward Blanche, "Can you track down the buyer Clarembald sold those scrolls to? I have a feeling it'll lead to a dead end, but I don't want to keep any stone unturned."
"It will be done, my Lord," Blanche replied with a smooth bow, "As soon as you're finished with our scholar here, I'll get every detail I need to trace the trail."
"Finished with... me?" Clarembald blinked, utterly lost.
Lorian looked straight into the mage's eyes, "Will you work for me? If you say yes, you will have the full treasury of Veridia backing your research. Unlimited resources, total freedom, and a fresh start- as long as you deliver results."
"How am I supposed to even leave Solara?" Clarembald asked, stunned, "The Watch has a line around the whole city."
Lorian let out a low chuckle, "Leave that to us. Just prepare yourself mentally."
"You'll be staying with us in hiding until the Lord sets out for home," Blanche added, stepping forward to untie the ropes around Clarembald's wrists and ankles, "Don't worry. You're under Lord Thorne's protection now, and you'll be treated well."
Clarembald rubbed his sore wrists, looking up at Blanche suspiciously, "If you don't mind me asking... were you always on Veridia's payroll?"
Blanche laughed softly, "Not at all. I met his Lordship only a few days ago. But my trader's instinct told me right away that this man was going to make me richer than I ever dreamed. So I sold my soul to him."
"Doesn't that mean you'll just sell out to a higher bidder if one comes along?" Clarembald smirked.
Blanche smiled back, "A man only has one soul to sell."
Lorian cut through the banter, "We aren't waiting around. We ride day after tomorrow, at dawn."
"As you wish, my Lord," all three men bowed. Lorian tossed another heavy pouch of gold coins into Blanche's hands and turned toward the door.
It was well past midnight when Lorian returned to his private quarters. Lady Anya Vespar was pacing back and forth across the floor, her face was pale with worry. She was just deciding whether to send guards out to search for him when the door swung open and Lorian walked in.
"My Lord!" she gasped, bowing quickly, "I was sick with worry... may I ask where you- "
Lorian raised a hand, cutting her off cleanly, "We are leaving at first light, day after tomorrow. Pack everything and make the arrangements. I'll explain the rest on the road."
And that was that. Two days later, at dawn, Lorian's entourage prepared to depart.
Blanche de Vergy had already arranged a large shipment of legal trade goods heading to Veridia under Lorian's official diplomatic clearance. Clarembald was packed right inside it. Taking a bit of dark inspiration from his earlier threat of "fermenting Clarembald alive in wine cask", Blanche had the scholar hidden in a custom, false-bottomed barrel packed beneath piles of raw, salted animal hides bound for Veridia's tanneries. The stench of the rotting hides was unbearable, easily masking human scent and any leftover chemical residue while giving the city inspectors every reason not to dig too deep.
Even with diplomatic immunity, Lorian's personal baggage train was still subject to border taxes and Arcane Watch checks. To cover the move, Lorian used a decoy strategy. He and his six Throne Guards marched straight out through the main gates in his official carriage. The Throne Guards made a massive scene, acting impatient and demanding priority treatment for their Lord, drawing every inspector's eye directly to Lorian's departure.
Meanwhile, Clarembald was moved separately in Blanche's commercial freight wagons. They slipped out through the lower dock gates, where the local customs officers were already on Blanche's payroll and happy to turn a blind eye.
The real challenge wasn't the physical guards, but the Arcane Watch's scrying spells and tracking wards. Clarembald's skin and clothes were completely soaked in volatile anima residue and binding salts from his work. To mask his magical signature, Blanche had stripped the mage the night before, scrubbed him down with harsh lye, and wrapped him in heavy oilcloths coated in raw, unrefined salts inside his container. The raw salt acted as a natural dampener, completely smothering his aura as the wagon rolled past the city's runic gateposts.
Once Blanche's wagons cleared Solara's outer walls and reached the unmonitored back roads, they met up with Lorian's guard escort at an isolated river ferry.
Clarembald was pulled out of the foul barrel, washed off, dressed in basic servant clothes, and quietly absorbed into Lorian's personal baggage line.
Just like that, the hunted scholar slipped past Solara's borders, leaving his dark past behind and riding toward a new life in Veridia.