Victory has a price.
As the adrenaline of the confrontation with Eugan faded, the bill came due.
The "Plausibility Debt" hit me with the force of a physical blow.
The headache returned, drilling behind my eyes with a renewed, screeching intensity.
I had used the First Name to accelerate a bullet and the Second Name to fracture space.
The Universe was auditing my books, and it was finding a massive deficit.
"Father," Prince Valerian said, stepping up beside me as the crowd began to disperse in hushed whispers. "That was... educational."
He looked at me with hungry eyes. He wasn't looking at a priest anymore; he was looking at a weapon he wanted to dismantle and understand.
"I insist on accompanying you back to the Spire," he announced. "The streets are dangerous after such a public display. And I have... questions."
I wanted to refuse and collapse into the silence of my own mind. But I was too taxed to argue with royalty.
"As you wish," I murmured, wiping a fresh trickle of blood from my lip.
I turned to Kael.
"Collect the trash," I ordered, gesturing to the sobbing heap that was Eugan Aldwulf.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the broken noble by the collar of his ruined silk suit and dragged him across the obsidian floor like a sack of potatoes.
Eugan didn't fight; he was catatonic, his mind shattered by the absolute humilation.
We moved to the exit.
The limousine ride was suffocating.
Prince Valerian sat opposite me, legs crossed, sipping a glass of wine he had somehow brought from the auction.
One of his Royal Guards sat stiffly beside the driver.
Kael sat next to me.
He was fortifying a position. He pressed his thigh against mine, his shoulder digging into my arm.
He stared at the Prince with cold, unblinking hostility, like a guard dog daring a stranger to reach for its master.
Valerian noticed. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing on his lips.
"Your 'Luggage' is very... territorial, Father," the Prince noted. "Is that standard protocol for the Divine Archives?"
Kael growled low in his throat.
I shot Kael a look. A sharp, psychic command to stand down.
He stiffened but didn't pull away.
"He is protective," I said dryly. "And you are staring, Valerian."
The Prince chuckled.
"Can you blame me? I attended your lectures for a year. You spoke of the Theory of Names, syntax and philosophy. But you never mentioned you could catch bullets with your bare hands."
He leaned forward, his expression sharpening.
"That wasn't a shield of Third Name. That was... Just the Frist Name…?"
"When one knows the syntax," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion, "the speech is easy."
I felt a warm wetness on my upper lip.
I reached up with a handkerchief. It came away crimson. The nosebleed was back, heavier this time.
Valerian's eyes narrowed. "You are bleeding. The cost?"
"The Tax," I corrected.
I leaned my head back against the seat, looking at the ceiling of the car.
"You think magic is a resource, Valerian. It is not."
I closed my eyes, visualizing the ledger of the cosmos.
"The Universe is a closed system of logic. It is governed by the Supreme Law of Probability. A rock falls down. Fire burns up. These are the rules."
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"When I make a bullet turn ninety degrees... I am telling the Universe a lie and forcing an extremely improbable event to happen, I am convincing it that 'Down' is 'Left'. And the Law of Probability... hates Improbable things."
I wiped the blood again.
"It audits the anomaly. It demands payment to balance the equation. That is Plausibility Debt. If I borrow too much Plausibility... the Law of Probability forecloses on my existence."
Silence filled the car.
Malakor was staring at me with his mouth open, scribbling frantically on a notepad he had pulled from his robes.
Kael was listening with a terrifying intensity, absorbing every word.
Valerian looked stunned.
"The Supreme Law of Probability..." he whispered.
"The Scholars talk about 'Unworthiness'. But this... this explains why the Thirtieth Name destroys those who tries to understand it. It's not a power overload. It's an Audit."
He looked at me with a new level of reverence.
"Only the Master of Divine Archives could know this," he murmured. "To categorize the laws that bind Gods..."
I didn't correct him about source of my knowledge. Let him believe the lie. It makes the debt easier to bear.
The Obsidian Spire rose into the smog like a black needle.
We bypassed the lobby, taking the private lift to the 90th floor.
The suite was vast. Three double beds. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the weeping city below.
"You can guard the door," Valerian told his Royal Guard. "I will be... safe here."
The guard bowed and exited, taking up a post in the hallway.
Malakor dragged Eugan into the room. The noble was limp, his eyes staring at nothing.
"My Lord," Malakor puffed. "What do we do with... this?"
I glanced at Eugan.
"Tie him in the corner," I said. "Hands and feet."
Malakor blinked. "Tie him? Like a dog?"
"Yes."
Valerian frowned, walking over to inspect the broken man.
"Father, I must ask... why keep him? He is a disgrace, yes, but he is still a scion of House Aldwulf. Dragging him around seems... risky. Why not kill him or release him?"
"Kill him, and he is a martyr," I said, unbuttoning my cuffs. "Release him, and he is an enemy."
I walked to the bed.
"But Eugan has revealed his true nature to me tonight. He craves submission. He attempted to dominate others because he was terrified of his own desire to be ruled."
I pointed at Eugan.
"Break him properly, and he will be a useful servant. He will scrub floors and fetch wine with more loyalty than any hired hand, simply because we provide the chains he secretly wants."
Valerian looked at Eugan, then at me. A look of distaste mixed with fascination crossed his face.
"He is… nobility..."
"It is not important," I said, dismissing the entire social structure of Kingdom with a wave of my hand. "You can deal with the politics, Prince. I am tired."
I took off my jacket. I unbuttoned the top of my shirt.
The bed looked like heaven.
I collapsed onto the mattress. The silk sheets were cool against my feverish skin. The headache was finally receding to a dull throb.
I heard the rustle of fabric.
Kael was stripping.
He took off his boots, removed the heavy tunic, the sash and the cape. He stood in his black trousers and undershirt.
He walked to my bed instead of the second.
Valerian watched, his eyebrows shooting up.
He opened his mouth to make a comment—something witty and insinuating—but I opened one eye and shot him a glare that could have frozen lava.
The Prince shut his mouth. He wisely moved to the third bed and sat down, watching in silence.
Kael slid under the covers next to me and crawled close
I closed my eyes.
"Keep your distance, Luggage…" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Yes, Master," he breathed.
I let the darkness take me.