The sun had lowered to a burnished coin, edging the manicured hedges in gold, when Logos drew his final chalk line along the grass. The circle lay perfectly level, perfectly measured, and utterly devoid of anything resembling normal magical protocol.
Kleber arrived exactly as a man does when summoned by fate and nonsense—already tired.
He tugged off gauntlets and let them fall with a clank. "There you are. I've combed half the palace grounds. I can't feel my shoulders. It's good to be out of armor."
Logos didn't look up. "You came to celebrate your bodily freedom?"
"No." Kleber's brow knitted. "I came to ask… what is that?"
He pointed to the circle.
A perfect ring of chalk.
No inscriptions.
No runic framing.
Just emptiness.
"You're building something," Kleber said, accusation plain.
"Yes."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"In the guest garden."
"Yes."
Kleber stared at the chalk line, then at the hedges—trimmed so sharply they resembled geometry rather than foliage.
Then stared at the space where hedges used to be.
"…Is this why your mana has been leaking like a burial curse?"
"I required calibration," Logos said. "The space is ideal."
"You trimmed the royal hedges."
"They obstructed wind siphoning."
The silence this time came with spiritual weight.
"…You trimmed the royal hedges," Kleber repeated, hoping repetition would make the moment sane.
"Shears are in the shed," Logos offered, polite as a funeral bell.
Kleber inhaled sharply. "Just—just tell me what this is."
Logos dusted chalk from his cuffs, as if discussing etiquette rather than espionage. "I detected scry-conduits woven beneath the estate. Passive. Acoustic. Responsive enchantment."
"So you knew we were being spied on," Kleber translated.
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"And reveal awareness? That would have alerted them."
"You could've warned me silently. With a note. A gesture. Blink twice."
"I selected this instead."
Kleber threw up his hands. "So now we have privacy? Here?"
"Only here," Logos corrected. "The circle masks voice, vibrations, and mana signature. Not sight."
Kleber blinked. "This… only protects the garden?"
"I studied for six years," Logos replied calmly.
"And your opponent?"
"Whoever wove the scry-web has practiced for twenty."
Kleber froze.
"So this is the only safe space?"
"Until I inscribe elsewhere. You will assist me in mana upkeep. Every twelve hours."
Kleber collapsed onto a bench. "A covert mage duel for privacy, on our first evening at the palace. Beautiful. Brilliant. Horrifying."
Logos adjusted the chalk line by half a grain width. "People often overreact to natural progressions."
Kleber spoke slowly, dangerously. "Logos… what natural progressions?"
"Surviving the Red Tide without losses. Designing a complete Exo line without third-party tech. Anticipating supply collapse and remedying it independently."
Kleber sputtered. "ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF—"
His yell cracked across the hedgemaze.
Soldiers responded like shaken hornets—four of them burst through the green archway, blades halfway drawn.
"My lord!" one barked. "Are you under attack? Is the commander harmed?"
Kleber pointed wildly at Logos.
"Men—hear this blasphemy. Our lord has declared, with straight face and unholy calm, that defeating the Crimson Peak Crawlers without a single casualty and inventing an entire new breed of war machines alone constitutes—" He inhaled, voice trembling, "—a NORMAL EVENT."
The soldiers regarded Kleber.
Then Logos.
Then back to Kleber.
One nodded solemnly. "That… does sound consistent."
Another scratched his chin. "I assumed it was Tuesday for him."
Third: "Frankly, I'm just honored we haven't been turned into experiments."
Fourth: "Being allowed to speak freely is already a blessing."
Kleber sagged. "None of you are helping."
Logos blinked slowly. "They are correct. My actions are not abnormal."
"NOT—" Kleber nearly choked. "NOT ABNORMAL? THE RED TIDE HAS NEVER BEEN STOPPED IN HISTORY. NONE OF THE SIRE WAVES HAVE EVER BEEN HALTED BY A FORTRESS, LET ALONE WITHOUT BLOOD. AND YOU CALL THAT—"
"Nothing is constant in history," Logos interjected. "If not me, someone else would have achieved it eventually."
Kleber stared at him in wounded disbelief. "History did not cough up a savant boy with corpse-black eyes, an engine brain, and a fortress of death-proof soldiers. It coughed up you."
Logos tilted his head thoughtfully. "You emphasize rarity as if it negates normalcy."
Kleber kicked a pebble. "Because it does."
"Consider," Logos continued, "the Crow banners, the Exo redesign, the crawler resistance breakthrough. All reproducible. Therefore natural."
"Natural?" Kleber whispered, voice scraping. "You didn't reproduce anything. You reinvented reality."
A breeze passed, rustling trimmed hedge-stubs like polite laughter.
Logos placed his palm against the chalk ring.
The air stilled.
"The palace listens," he murmured. "The court calculates. Sous ascends. Merchants stir. Stability is inefficient. We require readiness."
Kleber softened despite himself. "…And the circle?"
Logos finally looked up.
"To protect conversation. To protect you. To protect mother."
The simplicity silenced everything.
Kleber's shoulders dropped. "…You should've just said that."
"It would have been emotionally manipulative," Logos reasoned.
"YES," Kleber hissed, "THAT'S THE POINT OF HUMAN COMMUNICATION."
Logos blinked. "…Oh."
One soldier whispered to another, awed, "He said 'oh.' Growth."
Another nodded. "We should record this."
A third murmured, "Careful. Growth stages are delicate."
Logos returned attention to the chalk ring. His voice, though unchanged, carried something faint beneath its precision.
"We must expand the field before nightfall. Assist me."
Kleber stood, resigned. "Fine. But when the palace gardener sees this massacre—"
"I will compensate him," Logos said.
"…With coin?"
"Yes."
Kleber closed his eyes. "Finally. Something normal."
But he kneeled beside Logos anyway, hands steadying chalk lines as dusk deepened.
The circle hummed.
Whispers died.
Eyes in walls blinked and lost their hearing.
In the garden where hedges had been silenced,
privacy was won not by secrecy,
but by audacity.
The capital listened.
And for the first time,
Logos ensured it could hear absolutely nothing.