The ride back to my house was a blur of gray stone and silent streets. Each step felt heavy, weighted down by the memory of Darius's study. The man's calm unsettled me more than if he'd shouted. His final word echoed in my head, a single, cold command: *Continue.* Continue what? Continue being a spectacle? Continue being a problem he found interesting? I didn't know, and the not knowing was a cold knot in my gut. It was worse than a direct threat. A threat you could plan for. This was an evaluation. I was a student who had just been called to the principal's office, and the principal hadn't decided on my punishment yet.
I pushed open the heavy oak door of my house, the musty smell of decay and old wood a familiar, almost comforting, blanket. It was the smell of failure, and right now, failure felt like a safe place to hide. I leaned against the door, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding since I'd stepped into the Duke's carriage.
Before I could even take a second one to steady myself, there was a knock. Not the sharp, demanding rap of Kessler's men. It was a quick, efficient triple-tap. The kind of knock that said, *I have a job to do, and I will be leaving shortly.*
My heart hammered against my ribs. What now? Had Darius changed his mind?
I opened the door to a young man in the simple but clean livery of a merchant's house. He couldn't have been older than sixteen, his face still soft with youth, but his eyes were sharp and professional. He didn't bow or scrape. He just held out a small, heavy leather pouch.
"Lady Verne keeps her agreements," he said, his voice neutral, devoid of any warmth or malice. He was just a messenger. "She also asked me to mention that Officer Grell received a visitor this afternoon. He seems to have found the misplaced paperwork he was looking for."
He didn't wait for a reply, just nodded once and turned, his footsteps already retreating down the street. I closed the door and leaned against it, my legs feeling unsteady. I upended the pouch into my hand. Fifteen gold coins. They were heavy, solid, real. It wasn't much, but it was enough to breathe for a second. It was also a clear, terrifying message: Darius's reach was long and invisible. This wasn't just about Grell finding paperwork. It was him reminding me how small I was.
I found Eli in the kitchen, polishing silverware that wasn't ours anymore.
"Take these," I said, pressing the coins into his hand. "Don't ask questions. Just wait."
An hour later, as the last sliver of sun disappeared below the rooftops, bathing the room in a long, gloomy shadow, there was another knock. Kessler's men. The big one and the quiet one. Right on time. They were nothing if not punctual.
I opened the door before they could knock. "The Baron's payment," I said, holding out the smaller pouch Eli had prepared.
The big one took it. He didn't thank me. He just tipped the contents into his thick palm and counted them, his lips moving silently, his face unreadable. The smaller one watched me, a smirk playing on his lips, enjoying the role reversal. Satisfied, the big one dumped the coins back into the pouch and gave a short, sharp nod.
"Tell the Baron we're even for now," I said, keeping my voice steady. I wasn't begging, and I wasn't gloating. I was just stating a fact.
The big one gave me a long, unreadable look, then turned and left without another word. The quiet one followed, and just like that, the debt was gone. Just like that. Just like that, the debt was gone. And somehow that scared me more than owing it.. I should have felt relief. I should have felt triumphant.
I felt nothing but dread.
As the door clicked shut, a new window opened in my vision, stark and clinical.
[Quest Complete: Earn 50 Gold]
[Reward Granted: Skill Acquired — Threat Assessment (Level 1)]
[Description: Allows user to perceive relative danger levels from individuals.]
No glow. No sound. Just text. It felt like reading a diagnostic report. I blinked, and it was gone. So this was my reward. Great. Now I could measure how doomed I was. I focused on Eli, who was nervously wringing his hands by the door, watching me with a mixture of awe and suspicion. A new line of text appeared next to his head, floating in my vision like a ghostly label.
[Threat Level: Low]
Okay. That was simple enough. I looked out the grimy window at a random woman selling bread on the corner.
[Threat Level: Minimal]
So that was how it worked. A simple, dispassionate label. Useful, I supposed. A way to separate the annoyances from the actual threats. I took a breath, my heart starting to pound again, and deliberately focused my thoughts on the Duke. I pictured him sitting in his chair, his silver-grey eyes pinning me in place. I braced myself, expecting a jolt, a flash of pain, some kind of system warning. Something.
Instead, another line of text simply appeared, hanging in the air of my mind's eye, cold and absolute.
[Threat Level: Extreme]
[Advisory: Exercise Caution]
"Of course," I muttered to the empty room. That tracks. I had thought, for a moment, that I had some kind of leverage. That I was playing the game. I wasn't. I was a specimen on a slide, and Darius was the one holding the magnifying glass, deciding whether to pin me to a board or let me scutter away. "Exercise Caution." No shit.
The next morning, a royal courier arrived, his crisp blue uniform a stark contrast to my dingy foyer. He looked disgusted to even be touching my doorknocker. He handed me a formal envelope sealed with the Prince's crest, his expression making it clear that this was an order, not a social call. My hands felt surprisingly steady as I broke the wax. Practice, I guess. My whole life now was practice in not showing fear.
It was an invitation. To a hunting party at the royal palace. This Saturday.
I read the words again, my eyes scanning the elegant, flowing script. It wasn't a request. It was a command. I had solved the money problem. I had bought myself time. But now I was being pulled from the relative safety of the gutters and thrown directly onto the aristocratic battlefield. Public, political, and very, very dangerous. The Prince, the nobles, and... the Duke.
I looked at the date on the invitation. Then I thought of Darius's voice in my head.
*Continue.*
I didn't need anyone to explain it. This wasn't a reward. It was the next test. And the arena was a hell of a lot bigger than a ballroom.