Night fell on Evercrest, but the streets around the Hao Pavilion were electric. A "parade," as Sebas had called it, was in full swing. The Pavilion's most beautiful courtesans, dressed in stunning, elegant gowns, poured out onto the pavement, carrying silver trays of free sample drinks.
The people of the red-light district, accustomed to cheap ale and watered-down spirits, swarmed the area. This wasn't just any liquor; this was the high-end, top-shelf stock from the Pavilion, the kind they would never be able to taste, let alone afford. With their minds quickly clouded by the delicious, potent samples, the people wanted more.
The courtesans skillfully began their work, luring the thirsty, eager patrons toward the grand entrance. "You can enjoy this while I sit on your lap," one purred to a flushed merchant. Another whispered to a group of rowdy men, "You can enjoy much more from the throat... if you come inside."
To any rival gang, or to any Watcher patrol that might pass by, the strategy was obvious: a simple, effective, and slightly desperate-looking marketing ploy to attract more customers.
Or at least, that's what they were meant to see.
The real reason was to sow chaos. Misela's orders to the girls had been precise: Lure the men in, yes, but identify the rival gang members. Give them extra samples. Lead them, not just into the Pavilion, but into each other. With their sobriety and judgment rapidly leaving them, chaos would take root in the gaps.
One of the top courtesans spotted her target: a small group of Azure Sharkfin members, already loud and belligerent. She swayed over to them, a perfect, predatory grace in her walk. "Hellooo," she purred.
The Sharkfins, their eyes full of lust, immediately swarmed her. "Hello, baby," one slurred. "You got somethin' for us?"
The courtesan put on a perfect pout. "Ugh, it's such a special night, and my master has me just... walking around out here. It's so tiring."
"Then you can sit on me, baby!" one of them said, grabbing for her. The rest of the Sharkfins laughed, bumping each other to get a better look, all of them trying to get a taste.
The courtesan laughed, stepping back just out of reach. "But I can't leave the street," she whispered, her voice a tempting secret. "I can only come inside if... if some strong men help me meet my 'quota'."
"Quota?" the leader said, puffing out his chest. "I don't know what that is, but I had 'em."
The courtesan ran one long, manicured finger down his chest. "Really?"
"Follow me," the Sharkfin said, grabbing her by the arm to "lead" her. As he pulled her along, they passed a beggar, huddled in the shadows of the alley. The beggar, unseen by the drunken gang members, scratched his left ear twice. A signal. The courtesan, over the Sharkfin's shoulder, tapped her own chin. Route confirmed. The bullfighter's game had been set. She was about to lead these drunken, angry "bulls" directly into a street where she knew a contingent of Cardinal Wolves was waiting.
Ordinary people would only see a small, profitable, and somewhat gaudy establishment. But the true nature of the Hao Pavilion was not in its bricks and mortar; it was in its people. The beggars, the delivery men, the postmen, the waiters, the small stall owners—all of them were the Hao Pavilion. They were the eyes, the ears, and the mouths that Sebas now controlled.
…
The plan, fueled by free, high-proof liquor, worked faster than even Misela had anticipated. A tipsy Azure Sharkfin member, having just been handed another "free sample" by a courtesan, was "accidentally" shoved by a passing beggar. He stumbled, falling directly into the path of a group of Cardinal Wolves members.
The Sharkfin, his pride and his intoxication warring, was about to yell at the beggar when the TCW member, already on edge from the night's tension, simply punched him in the face.
The sound of the impact—a solid, wet thwack—was the starting pistol. The other Sharkfins, seeing their man go down, roared and attacked. The TCW members, happy to oblige, met them head-on. The street erupted. Bottles smashed, blades were drawn, and a full-scale brawl spilled out onto the main road, fueled by cheap bravado and expensive, free alcohol.
A night patrol car, its lights flashing, arrived several minutes later. Two Watchers jumped out, drawing their standard-issue Electrum shock-batons. "Down! Now! Watchers!" one of them yelled.
They were met with a wave of drunken, violent resistance. The gangsters who weren't hit by the initial paralyzing charge were too intoxicated and enraged to distinguish, or care, about the uniforms. They just saw another enemy. A thrown bottle shattered on the Watcher's patrol car.
"Dispatch!" the Watcher's partner yelled into his crystal radio, ducking behind the car door as another bottle flew past. "10-33, officer in need of assistance! We have a 10-53, major gang-war in progress, intersection of... we are taking fire! Need backup! All available units!"
The chaos was self-sustaining now, a ripple effect of Sebas's plan, spreading through the district, drawing in more patrols, and tying up the city's resources perfectly.
From the 31st-floor window of the Hao Pavilion, Amanzio watched the flashing lights and the swarm of Watcher vehicles converge on the riot.
"Damn," he muttered, a note of genuine awe in his voice. "One could think it's the Silent Night of the Chaos King down there."
"You better rest," Misela's cold voice came from her desk. "Tomorrow, you will need to act like a bitch even more for Guilon."
Amanzio's teeth ground together. "Ironic," he spat, "for a bitch to call me a bitch."
Misela's head snapped up, her eyes glaring at him.
He didn't back down. "Are you not the Master Bitch?"
Weirdly, the glare in Misela's eyes softened. Her face, which had been a mask of cold contempt, slowly, unnervingly, relaxed into a full-blown, genuine smile. "I am," she said, her voice a purr of approval.
Amanzio shivered, his bravado gone, replaced by a cold dread. 'She's too crazy,' he thought, turning away from her. 'I need to get this mission done as soon as possible. I can't stay near this crazy bitch for too long.'
While chaos reigned on the surface, the underground dojo of the Hao Pavilion was an oasis of perfect calm. Sebas stood before his "spiders," the orphan assassins, who were all sitting in meditative postures.
His training was bearing fruit. Kai, the clear prodigy, was leagues ahead of the rest. Liane and Ren, with their natural talent, were slightly behind him, their own Qi now a stable, if small, wisp. And the rest of the children, who had struggled for weeks, were finally able to harness a tiny, visible speck of Qi. They needed more practice, more time, but time was the one thing Sebas truly had. Progress was being made.
"Alright," he said, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the distant, muffled sirens from the world above. "All of you, sit down and continue to meditate. Like we practiced. Feel your dantian. Find the center. Circulate the energy."
He then left them, his form melting into the shadows of the training hall. He walked down a long, stone tunnel to his private, underground office. He sat at his desk, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness ascend to the Animus Hub.
He materialized at the round table. He saw Erwin, already there, completely engrossed in his own work. A holographic projection of the URA's Kingdom Law was on one side, and a text file of "Earth's Common Law," as recalled by the Conan card, was on the other. Erwin was meticulously comparing the two, highlighting loopholes and contradictions.
Sebas would not bother him. He was on his own path.
Sebas manifested his own interface: a detailed, holographic map of Evercrest. He touched the last of the rival gang territories—the Azure Sharkfins. A red "X" appeared over it. His work here was, for the most part, done.
He then expanded the map. The neighboring domains shimmered into view: the vast, aristocratic lands of the Talbott Domain, and the sprawling, critical territory of the Royal Domain itself. He began his planning for the next, far larger, venture.
…
Captain Céline Dubois's office was a mess of cold coffee cups and scattered reports. She'd been in the office since the first call from the riot had come in, a non-stop night of damage control. Several Watchers were injured, eight of them with fatal-level wounds that would have killed them without immediate magical intervention. Thankfully, none had died.
She was scouring the after-action reports, looking for the catalyst. This wasn't a spontaneous brawl; it was too big, too coordinated, and the free-flowing, high-end liquor was a clear spark.
A knock came at her door. "Come in," she said, her voice hoarse.
Wolfe entered, his face grim. "Good morning, ma'am."
"Ah, Wolfe," she said, not looking up from her desk. "Handle the patrol units that were in the hospital. Make sure to issue Watchers to stand guard on the ones who are still... recovering."
"Ma'am, I've come here because I got news," he said, his voice low. "From my CI. The one in the Hao Pavilion."
Céline's head snapped up, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "What did they say?"
"The underground political scene is changing, fast," Wolfe reported. "The rumor is that the Cardinal Wolves, Guilon's crew, have struck some kind of special dealing with the royal family."
Céline stared at him, the pieces clicking into place with a horrifying, historical weight. "Ahh," she said, a cold, bitter understanding in her voice. "House Bannon, all over again, huh."
…
In the Animus Hub, Erwin had just finished his comparative legal analysis. He closed the holographic files and stretched. Across the table, Sebas was just finishing his own draft, a complex, multi-stage plan for entry into the Talbott and Royal territories.
Erwin walked over. "Are you done with Evercrest, then?"
"Not in the least," Sebas replied, not looking up from his map. "Master Zero would love to simply eradicate the criminal element, but that would just create a vacuum, and we would be forced to do this all over again. What we are doing here is cementing ourselves. Into every nook, every cranny, of Evercrest's underworld."
"Okay," Erwin said, his curiosity piqued. "What's this new plan you're working on?"
"Recreating the Bannon rise," Sebas said simply.
Erwin, with the encyclopedic historical knowledge from his card, understood immediately. "Bannon? As in Duke Bannon, of the Five Lakes?"
"The very same," Sebas confirmed, a hint of academic appreciation in his voice. "House Bannon was once a small, insignificant crime group. They made themselves notoriously... helpful... to the royals. They became bolder and bolder, using that shadow of support to legitimize themselves. They began encroaching on the Archduke Talbott's lands at the time, picking off his assets, until Bannon itself became a Great House." He pointed to the map. "This led to the separation of their territory, and, of course, a demotion in rank for House Talbott, from Archduke down to Duke."
Erwin stared at him, realizing the sheer, audacious scale of the plan. "Are you saying you're trying to spark another Great House feud, using Guilon as your Bannon?"
Sebas finally looked up, a cold, terrifying amusement in his unseen eyes. "Just to sow chaos. The man has his head so far up his own ass, he is desperate to believe in his own destiny. He will not see the strings for the puppet. And when he does, there will be nothing for him to fall into but dung."
…
Back in Céline's office, the captain was already planning her next move. "We need to stabilize the area. With this rumor out, the other gangs will be bolder, trying to stop TCW before they become 'untouchable.' They won't hesitate to fight in the middle of the day anymore."
"I'll coordinate with the patrols," Wolfe said, "double our presence in the disputed zones."
"It's not enough," Céline said. This was bigger than her precinct. She picked up the high-priority line, a heavy, old-fashioned rotary phone that connected directly to Central Command. She began to dial a number she knew by heart.
"Ma'am?" Wolfe asked.
"I'm calling Chief Thorne Black himself," she said, the phone's rotary clicks sounding like gunshots in the quiet office. "This issue needs to be handled, and swiftly, before the Silent Night arrives."
**A/N**
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