Night changed Avalon without making it any less busy. The daytime crowds thinned from the broadest avenues, children were pulled away from fountains with sleepy complaints, and the public arguments around the auction counters moved into private dining rooms, rented guest estates, noble balconies, and side offices where people could argue with softer voices and more expensive wine. Holy lamps burned along the canals in long pale-gold lines, and their reflections trembled whenever a guarded cart rolled over a bridge or a patrol passed close enough to stir the water. The city looked calmer from above, but Noctis could see the other rhythm beneath it: servants carrying sealed trays, pages running late messages, clerks locking some rooms while opening others, and guards pretending not to listen to noble guests who talked too loudly after dinner.
He stood at the warded window of the Church-controlled residence near the auction district, still wearing Ren Arclight's face. The white-and-gold armor remained fitted over him, the hooded shroud cast shadow across the upper half of his face, the pale silver-white hair rested against the collar, and the folded golden aura behind his shoulders had been dimmed until it looked like a quiet residue rather than a display. The golden lance leaned near the writing desk where anyone entering could see it, while Nocturne and Ruin stayed hidden inside Blood Storage Space with the enchanted gold, stolen spellbooks, relic fragments, and treasures taken from the Five-Star Fortress. He could have relaxed the disguise in the sealed room, but Avalon was the kind of city where changing the wrong detail at the wrong time gave servants something to talk about, and Noctis did not like giving people free material.
The room itself had been made private under Aurevan's authority. Servants stopped at the outer receiving room now, meals were left with a hall attendant, and the steward had been told that High Templar Arclight required quiet after front-line travel. It was a simple explanation, dull enough that no one would repeat it twice unless they were already bored. The inner chamber held steady warmth from hidden floor channels, a soft glow from scripture lines worked beneath the white stone, and the faint smell of incense from the small prayer alcove near the wall. Noctis ignored most of it and kept watching the district below.
The clean plan had been to use the auction itself. He had access now. He could enter the viewing halls, review restricted lots, spend enchanted gold, and walk out with holy relics, spellbooks, formation cores, clerical scripts, and materials that could be adapted for Nocthyrael, Adrian, the fallen angels, and the fallen clergy. There was nothing wrong with that plan. It was simple, legal enough on paper, and less likely to create chaos before he understood the auction's storage routes.
The problem was that the auction had brought more than treasures into Avalon. It had gathered people who owned vaults, families, bloodlines, private manuals, old relic collections, inherited techniques, temple archives, knight order records, and household secrets. Those people had arrived with money and guards, believing they were here to buy what they wanted and return home richer in prestige. Noctis watched another noble carriage pass beneath the residence balcony, its crest worked in gold over dark lacquered wood, and the thought settled more firmly. Buying a relic was useful, but controlling the person who bought the relic was better.
Cardinal Aurevan stood near the desk, hands folded inside his sleeves, waiting with enough natural stillness that he did not look like a servant waiting for orders. That was one of the reasons Noctis had kept him in his current state instead of draining and converting him fully. Aurevan was still able to move through Avalon as Aurevan, and that mattered more than raw obedience right now. A cardinal who suddenly behaved too differently would draw exactly the kind of attention Noctis had spent the last two chapters avoiding.
Noctis turned from the window and glanced at him. "I'm changing the plan a little."
Aurevan looked up. "The auction items?"
"They still matter," Noctis said, moving toward the desk but not sitting yet. "But the buyers matter more. If I buy too much myself, people watch me. If they buy it, it just looks normal."
Aurevan understood quickly, but he did not make the mistake of sounding impressed. "Then they transfer the items later."
"Yeah. Quietly. Or they take them home first, and then I get more than whatever was on sale."
"That opens family vaults, private collections, temple archives, and knight order storage."
Noctis gave a small nod, because that was exactly the kind of thinking he wanted from him. "That's the part I care about. The auction is just where everyone showed up with their keys."
Aurevan crossed closer to the writing desk where blank request sheets, sealed room notices, and a small tray of untouched fruit sat beside a silver lamp. "You want names and locations."
"Names, where they're staying, who they brought, what they're trying to buy, and who can actually get into their family vaults," Noctis said. "Also who collects bloodline relics. Anyone with family techniques. Anyone with access to old manuals. And I want to know who would take a private meeting just because they think it makes them look important."
Aurevan's mouth shifted by the faintest amount. "That will include several nobles."
"Alright. With nobles like that, this should be easier."
"Some will be easier than others," Aurevan said. "The arrogant ones may accept a meeting quickly, but the careful ones may be more valuable."
"That's fine. I'm not trying to grab everybody tonight."
Aurevan nodded once. "I can gather most of that through normal channels. Auction security, lodging records, the Church liaison hall, private viewing schedules, escort manifests, and dinner invitations. No one will find it strange if I ask. I am already attached to your sealed recovery matter."
"Good," Noctis said. "Keep it normal. I don't want anyone thinking we're making a hit list."
Aurevan gave him a quiet look. "We are making a hit list."
"No, we're making a guest list with bad intentions. Very different."
The cardinal paused for half a breath, then lowered his eyes in a way that almost hid his reaction. "I understand."
Noctis leaned one hip lightly against the desk. "I'm serious. Don't push too hard. If an office hands it over because a cardinal asked, great. If someone hesitates, don't turn it into a scene. I'd rather miss a name tonight than have people wondering why you cared that much."
"I can manage that."
"I know. That's why I'm sending you."
Aurevan bowed just enough for the sealed room, then straightened before the gesture became too submissive. The adjustment was small, but Noctis noticed and approved. Obedience was useful; obvious obedience was not. A controlled cardinal with good instincts could walk through the auction district and collect information without looking like a controlled cardinal, and that made him worth far more than a drained body at this stage.
Before Aurevan left, Noctis added, "And listen to the staff. Not just officials. Servants, pages, guards, old clerks, all of them. People talk around them like furniture."
"They often know more than the guest records," Aurevan said.
"Exactly. Rich people love announcing their weaknesses to the person pouring wine."
"I will return after evening prayer."
"Take your time. If you come back too fast, I'll assume the list is garbage."
Aurevan gave a restrained nod, restored the outer appearance of the room to something appropriate for a cardinal leaving a guest to rest, and stepped through the door with the same calm authority he had used at the gate. The hall attendant outside lowered his head, a servant carrying folded linen froze long enough to remember she should keep moving, and the residence guards straightened as Aurevan passed. By the time the door closed again, he was no longer the man who had called Noctis Master behind a privacy seal. He was Cardinal Aurevan, senior enough that questions came carefully and answers came quickly.
Noctis remained alone in the chamber, listening to the residence breathe around him. Servants passed through side corridors. A cart rolled across the courtyard. Somewhere below, a steward corrected a young attendant for walking too loudly near a restricted guest room. The city outside rang its evening bells in layers, one district after another, until the sound faded into the steady hum of holy formations beneath the streets.
He poured a little wine into a cup and left it on the desk without drinking. His attention stayed on the district. The plan was not complicated, which was why it had room to work. He did not need to steal every treasure from a guarded vault in Avalon when the people attending the auction were already planning to carry those treasures out for him. Once Binding Stare settled into the right buyers, they could bid with their own names, store items in their own rooms, move them through their own guards, and explain any later transfer with excuses that matched their lives better than any excuse Noctis could invent from outside.
The trick was not to break them.
A puppet was useless if everyone could see the strings. Lord Edric Caelbrin still needed to look greedy. Sir Rowan Veyr still needed to look insecure and proud. Lady Mirelle Valcyr still needed to look sharp, ambitious, and careful. The Binding Stare worked best when it leaned on what was already there, nudging desire until serving Noctis felt like the natural next step. If they woke tomorrow acting like wide-eyed converts, Avalon would notice before breakfast. If they woke tomorrow with the same flaws they had yesterday, only with Ren Arclight placed quietly inside their priorities, nobody would think twice.
Aurevan himself was proof of the balance. Noctis had taken what he needed earlier through Blood Memory, enough to shape the token and understand the procedures, but not enough to fully drain him for every skill, every bloodline detail, and every hidden layer of experience. That could wait. A missing or visibly altered cardinal inside Avalon would make noise. Once the mission was done and the city no longer needed to believe Aurevan was normal, Noctis could empty him properly, convert him fully, and bring him back to the fortress as something far more permanent.
For now, Aurevan needed to be useful, normal, and boring.
Noctis smiled faintly at that last thought, because boring had become one of the most valuable disguises in the city.
Aurevan's first stop was the Church liaison hall attached to the auction authority offices. The building sat between the public registration court and the restricted administrative wing, marked by white pillars, gold-edged doors, and a side arch reserved for senior clergy. Guards opened the inner door as soon as they recognized him, and two bishops inside interrupted their own conversation to bow. Aurevan greeted them with a few calm words about security reviews and the Three-Star Fortress recovery matter, enough to make his presence feel expected even though no one had expected him specifically.
The hall was full of people who knew how to make paperwork sound sacred. Clerks sorted attendance records under suspended lamps, assistants carried sealed tubes between desks, and senior officials reviewed lodging declarations, escort manifests, private viewing requests, and payment capacity notices from buyers who wanted everyone to know they had money while pretending they did not care who knew. Aurevan did not ask for everything at once. He began with risk categories, then major participants, then buyers whose interests overlapped with front-line recovery, bloodline relics, combat manuals, holy suppression tools, and restricted technique viewings.
Because every question fit the cover, the answers came smoothly. A high templar under sealed authority had reason to know who might be buying military-grade relics. A cardinal escorting that high templar had reason to review security risks. The Three-Star Fortress had fallen, and the Church had not stopped worrying about it. The clerks did not know they were helping Noctis map targets; they thought they were doing what clerks always did, which was placing names into safer categories so that a superior could decide whether to care.
Aurevan took notes in a manner that looked routine. He did not linger too long over bloodline relic buyers. He did not react when a clerk mentioned a family vault. He did not press when someone hesitated over private lodging. Instead, he let the official record give him the shape of the field, then let the district's quieter voices fill in what paperwork tried to hide.
Servants whispered while waiting in corridors, and they did it with the confidence of people who believed important guests never listened. One pair complained that House Caelbrin's attendants expected everyone to rush but tipped like misers. A page muttered that Sir Rowan Veyr had asked three different clerks whether high-templar combat manuals would be available, as if asking more people would change the answer. An old appraiser grumbled that the Solmara Reliquary House had brought private lots it did not want listed too clearly, which meant either the goods were excellent or the description was lying. A guard told another guard that House Valcyr's relic protectors looked like they had slept in shifts for a week, which meant their lady either distrusted everyone or had brought something worth stealing.
Aurevan moved next through the noble reception offices, where seating assignments and dinner invitations were handled with an intensity that would have embarrassed actual battle planners. The clerks there knew which houses hated each other, which ones pretended not to, which families wanted neighboring boxes at the auction hall, and which young heirs had tried to arrange "accidental" meetings with famous knights, senior temple figures, or wealthy sellers. A stiff-backed clerk explained that Lady Mirelle Valcyr had taken rooms at Sunspire Noble House near the western pavilion, with two family relic guards and a controlled household staff. The same clerk mentioned, with professional bitterness, that House Caelbrin had demanded canal-facing rooms at the Moon-Gold Residence because apparently even bloodline relic collectors needed a flattering view while overpaying for someone else's ancestors.
Aurevan let him talk.
The knight order rooms gave different information because soldiers and knights complained with less perfume on it. Captain Alaric Vaust of the Order of the Dawn Spear had rented a martial compound near the training district and posted proper guards at every entrance. He had requested viewing rights for spear relics, cavalry formation manuals, battlefield blessing scripts, and old command records. His people were disciplined, which made him harder to touch quickly, but also made their interests easier to read. They wanted things that helped a unit fight, not things that impressed dinner guests.
Sir Rowan Veyr appeared in the records as a much easier problem. Young noble knight, good family connections, too eager to be noticed, currently staying at the Veyr townhouse near the eastern knight quarter. He had requested information on high-templar combat records, holy armor, dueling relics, and old manuals that someone had probably told him were beyond his current status. More useful than that, he had accepted two dinner invitations and was drinking tonight with allied young knights, which meant pride, wine, and insecurity would be sitting in the same room before midnight.
The temple lounges moved at a slower pace. High Priestess Celiane Morth of the Temple of Saint Ilyra had taken rooms near the southern healing district in a pilgrim house reserved for senior temple delegations. She was elderly, heavily respected, politically protected, and surrounded by healer-knights and attendants trained to notice discomfort, weakness, and spiritual disturbances. Her delegation sought healing relics, support scriptures, purification field records, and angelic hymn fragments. She was valuable, but she was not someone to touch carelessly on the first night.
Master Pellan Orthis of the Argent Ledger Consortium came through merchant records and auction staff complaints. Older merchant, cautious, informed, staying at the Argent Ledger counting house in the merchant quarter. He was not chasing the flashiest relics. He wanted damaged items, miscategorized lots, private pricing reports, repairable relics, and forging notes that could become more valuable after the right hands fixed them. That made him dangerous in a different way. Anyone trained to profit from mistakes might notice if Noctis made one.
The last major name Aurevan gathered was Matron Ysabel Solmara of the Solmara Reliquary House. She occupied private seller rooms attached to the Solmara pavilion and had enough influence that other sellers spoke of her with resentment instead of open contempt. Her family bought and sold relics, maintained old appraisal methods, and controlled several private lots not shown to ordinary buyers. Her staff were quiet, her guards were unobtrusive, and the appraisers spoke of her as someone who missed very little. Aurevan did not force more information than the district offered. Some targets became easier only after they believed they had already judged you harmless.
By the time evening prayer faded into deeper night, Aurevan had enough to return.
Avalon had shifted again by then. The public shrines still glowed, but the crowds around them had thinned to old pilgrims, late worshipers, and temple attendants stacking candles for the morning. Children leaned over balconies in nightclothes until nurses or parents pulled them back inside. Noble guest houses shone behind curtains, and the silhouettes moving inside them looked less dignified than they had at the auction desks. Covered relic carts crossed side bridges under guard, clerks locked document rooms with visible relief, and servants carried the kind of gossip that would be "accidentally" repeated in kitchens before dawn.
Noctis was still near the warded window when Aurevan returned. The cardinal entered with a sealed folder under one arm, let the outer record mark him as visiting under restricted auction business, and waited until the privacy seal closed fully before allowing his shoulders to relax by a nearly invisible degree. He did not kneel. Noctis had corrected that habit enough times that Aurevan only lowered his head.
"Master," Aurevan said quietly.
Noctis turned from the window. "Alright. What did you find?"
Aurevan placed the folder on the desk and opened it. "Seven major participants are worth your attention. More minor ones may be useful later, but these are the ones with money, access, bloodlines, archives, or enough influence to move treasures without raising questions."
"Start with the easy ones."
"Lord Edric Caelbrin," Aurevan said, sliding the first note forward. "House Caelbrin collects bloodline relics, saint-blood containers, inheritance tools, and relic cores. Edric is at the Moon-Gold Residence near the canal mansions. His security looks expensive, not disciplined. He trusts his family name and assumes most people want something from him."
Noctis sat at the desk and looked over the note. "So he's careless when he feels important."
"Yes. He has already arranged two private dinners and one closed meeting with a seller claiming to have a sealed blood vessel from an old battlefield saint."
"Is the blood vessel real?"
"Unknown. The seller is minor, but Edric is interested enough to meet privately."
Noctis tapped the corner of the note. "That gives us bloodline relic interest, private meeting habits, weak security, and ego. He's first."
"That was my recommendation."
"Good. Next."
Aurevan moved another sheet forward. "Sir Rowan Veyr. Young noble knight from House Veyr. Staying at the Veyr townhouse near the eastern knight quarter. He wants high-templar combat records, dueling relics, holy armor, and anything that makes him look like he belongs with people more accomplished than he is."
Noctis leaned back slightly. "So he wants attention."
"Very badly."
"From someone like Ren Arclight?"
"Especially from someone like Ren Arclight."
"That one should be easy. Not harmless, but easy."
Aurevan nodded. "He is drinking tonight with two allied young knights. If you approach him as a high templar, he will likely mistake the meeting for recognition."
"Let him. I do not need to push hard if he's already leaning."
The next sheet carried a more elegant hand and a longer set of notes. "Lady Mirelle Valcyr," Aurevan said. "House Valcyr. Young, polished, ambitious, and more careful than the first two. She is staying at Sunspire Noble House near the western pavilion. Two family relic guards, several attendants, and a disciplined staff. House Valcyr has old holy-war prestige and likely maintains a private vault of saint reliquaries, battlefield relics, and bloodline-compatible defensive treasures."
Noctis read the note more slowly this time, though Omni Eyes had already taken it in. "You marked Radiant Thornline."
"Not confirmed in direct public records, but there are references in marriage contracts, blessing registries, and old military awards. Barrier, thorn-light, and retaliatory protection techniques if the old descriptions are accurate."
"That could be useful for Nocthyrael's angels."
"Yes, though Mirelle will not be as easy as Veyr. She knows how to listen without showing what she heard."
"Then we treat her like someone with a brain. That's fine."
Aurevan almost looked pleased by the answer, but he kept moving. "Captain Alaric Vaust of the Order of the Dawn Spear. Veteran. Disciplined. Staying at their rented martial compound near the training district. He wants spear relics, cavalry formation manuals, battlefield blessing scripts, and command records. His security is solid, and his men respect him."
"No tonight."
"I agree."
"Does he have anything personal?"
"There is mention of a spear manual he carries with him. One of his younger knights spoke too freely after wine."
Noctis nodded once. "Later, then. I like people who bring the thing I want with them, but not when they also bring discipline."
Aurevan moved to the merchant note. "Master Pellan Orthis of the Argent Ledger Consortium. Older merchant, careful, very informed. Staying at the Argent Ledger counting house. He is after damaged relics, miscategorized lots, repairable items, private pricing reports, and forging notes. He likely has informants among staff."
Noctis gave a quiet, appreciative hum. "That one sounds annoying."
"He may already know which lots are undervalued."
"Then he's useful and dangerous. We do not touch him first."
"Because he might notice the pattern."
"Because noticing patterns is his job."
The next page concerned the temple delegation. "High Priestess Celiane Morth of the Temple of Saint Ilyra. Elderly, politically protected, staying near the southern healing district. She wants healing relics, support scriptures, purification field records, and angelic hymn fragments. Her attendants and healer-knights are trained to notice changes in mood, spirit, and health."
Noctis shook his head slightly. "Too much trouble tonight."
"She could give access to temple archives."
"I know. That's why we don't rush it."
The final major sheet was thinner but more carefully written. "Matron Ysabel Solmara. Solmara Reliquary House. Private seller rooms attached to their pavilion. She buys and sells relics, controls private lots, and has old appraisal techniques. Her people are quiet."
"That usually means good."
"Yes. I would not recommend approaching her until you know more about her staff and private rooms."
"Agreed."
Aurevan placed the rest of the minor notes to one side. "There are smaller buyers as well. Minor nobles, lesser temple delegates, merchant agents, knight envoys, private collectors. Some have money, some have access, and some are probably lying about both."
Noctis looked over the spread of names without speaking for a while. Outside the window, the auction district continued moving under the night lamps, and the holy canals below reflected the city like strips of broken gold. He could already see the first chain of targets forming. Caelbrin could lead to bloodline relics and family collections. Veyr could buy combat manuals and open a military noble route. Valcyr could reach defensive bloodline treasures and old holy-war vaults. The rest could wait until he understood how much noise the first three made.
"This is better than an item list," he said.
Aurevan remained beside the desk. "Because the items end with the auction."
"Yeah. These people go home."
"And take their vaults, servants, records, and habits with them."
"Exactly."
Aurevan looked down at the names. "You intend for them to buy normally, then transfer the items afterward."
"Some of it. Others can buy things I don't want to be seen chasing. And once they're home, they can send more. Vault inventories, old manuals, bloodline samples, family relics, anything useful."
"That will take time."
"That's fine. I'm building reach, not grabbing snacks."
The wording was casual enough that Aurevan took a moment to respond, though he seemed to understand the meaning perfectly. "Then the first controls must be subtle."
"Very subtle," Noctis said. "I don't need puppets walking around acting weird. They stay themselves. They just become helpful."
Aurevan nodded. "Caelbrin remains greedy. Veyr remains proud. Valcyr remains ambitious."
"Right. They buy what makes sense for them, but the useful things end up with me."
"And if they resist later?"
Noctis looked at him. "Then I did it badly."
Aurevan accepted that without argument. "You will begin with Lord Caelbrin?"
"Yeah. He's the easiest mix of useful and careless."
"He is currently at the Moon-Gold Residence," Aurevan said, drawing a simple route on a blank sheet. "Canal-facing suite, upper floor. Two personal guards outside the main door, one attendant in the outer room, one clerk reviewing tomorrow's lot interests. He had dinner earlier and has not left since. The suite has a balcony facing the inner canal."
Noctis studied the route. "Balcony visible from where?"
"South service roof across the canal. Also from the lantern bridge, but that route has more patrol exposure."
"Service roof, then."
"The residence has privacy wards but not military-grade protection. Noble comfort, not fortress security."
Noctis smiled faintly. "Sounds about right."
"His guards may notice if he changes behavior too quickly."
"He won't. I'm not going in there to make him kneel. I need him to wake up tomorrow feeling like buying bloodline relics for Ren Arclight is somehow good for him."
Aurevan's expression turned thoughtful. "His ego can support that."
"Good. Then I don't have to push as hard."
Aurevan shifted to the next target without needing to be told. "Sir Rowan Veyr can be approached tomorrow through reputation. If Ren Arclight gives him even a small private acknowledgment, he will likely pursue the connection."
"Save him for after Caelbrin. Maybe tonight if the route is clean."
"And Lady Valcyr?"
"No rush. She sounds smarter. Smart people get suspicious if the timing feels too convenient."
"She has a private salon tomorrow afternoon before the restricted previews."
"Good. We use something normal for her. Maybe Aurevan hears her family has old war relics tied to fortress recovery and requests a quiet conversation. Nothing dramatic."
Aurevan nodded. "That would be believable."
Noctis stood from the desk and crossed toward the window. He left the golden lance where it rested. A high templar walking openly through the city at night with a glowing weapon would draw attention, and Ren Arclight was supposed to be resting under restricted privacy. Noctis did not need the lance to handle a noble in a comfortable suite. Nocturne and Ruin were still with him, and blood could become blade, chain, thread, or claw faster than anyone inside the Moon-Gold Residence could shout for help.
Aurevan watched him prepare. "Should I go with you?"
"No. You stay here."
"If someone asks for you?"
"Say I'm resting."
"If they insist?"
"Then I'm praying, recovering, reviewing sealed documents, whatever makes them feel rude for pushing."
"That should work for most."
"And if it doesn't, make them wait anyway."
Aurevan's mouth moved slightly. "I can do that."
"I know. You're good at it."
Noctis pulled the hood a little lower and dimmed the visible aura behind his shoulders until it became no more than a faint gold line against the white armor. The disguise remained complete, but he did not need to advertise it from the rooftops. He opened the window after checking the record script and watched the room's ward accept the movement as a restricted private action under Aurevan's authority. The exit would not vanish from the system entirely, but it would become the kind of dull note no one read unless something had already gone wrong.
Aurevan stepped closer but did not crowd him. "Lord Caelbrin may be easier through an invitation tomorrow."
"More audience tomorrow."
"Yes."
"I'd rather do the quiet part while he still thinks tonight is just another rich man's evening."
Aurevan accepted that. "The canal route should be clean for the next several minutes. Patrols passed recently."
Noctis looked out over Avalon's rooftops. The Moon-Gold Residence stood across the canal district, warm with private lamps and surrounded by the comfortable security of people who believed money could purchase safety. Servants moved behind curtained windows, guards stood at doors polished enough to make them look decorative, and the balcony Aurevan had described opened above the inner canal with a clean line from the south service roof. Genesis Step only needed sight, and Avalon had built a beautiful city full of rooftops, towers, bridges, lamps, and reflective water.
He glanced back once when Aurevan lowered his head again.
"Yes, Master," Aurevan said.
Noctis gave him a look.
The cardinal corrected himself immediately, voice quieter. "Yes, High Templar Arclight."
Noctis shook his head slightly, not annoyed enough to be sharp. "Close enough. Just don't do that outside."
"I won't."
"Good. Keep the room boring."
Aurevan almost smiled. "That has become an important strategy."
"It works way more often than people think."
Noctis stepped onto the window ledge, the holy field around the residence sliding across his disguise and finding nothing worth reporting. For a moment he remained there, balanced above the courtyard with Avalon spread beneath him in gold-lit canals, white rooftops, quiet shrine plazas, noble balconies, and auction banners moving in the night wind. Then Genesis Step carried him to the courtyard wall, then to the service roof beyond it, each movement brief and clean enough that the servants below only felt a faint shift in air and blamed the open windows.
He crossed above a narrow street where two attendants argued over whether a noble dinner guest had insulted the host or merely been too drunk to know who he was speaking to. Another step carried him beside a lantern tower, where he waited for a patrol to pass beneath the bridge before moving again. Avalon's holy lamps reflected in the canal below, bright enough that the city never truly became dark, but the light worked for him as much as against him. Every reflection gave him another angle. Every roofline gave him another place to stand.
The Moon-Gold Residence waited ahead, bright, expensive, and careless.
Noctis crouched briefly on the south service roof and watched Lord Edric Caelbrin's suite through the canal-facing balcony. Two guards stood outside the main hall entrance, exactly where Aurevan said they would be. A servant crossed the outer room carrying an empty wine tray. Deeper inside, Edric sat near a low table with a clerk, laughing at something written in tomorrow's lot interests as though the auction had already agreed to flatter him. The balcony door had been left partly open for the night air.
Noctis watched the ward lines, the guard rhythm, the servant route, and the angle of the curtains for a few more seconds.
Then he picked the cleanest path and stepped toward Caelbrin's balcony.