Prince Ethan Valisar paused at the edge of the Velvet House, his pale stare locked on the structure like a hawk sizing up its next move. Outside, it seemed just another rich trader's home in the high-end district - tall walls of flawless white rock, carved pillars lining the front, neat lawns trimmed tight, along with fancy colored panes lit from within by flickering lamps.
Beautiful. Refined. Respectable.
A flawless cover hiding the decay below.
Your Highness," Captain Thorne murmured close by, fingers curled round his blade's grip. Yet something about this sits badly - unnatural silence, way too clean. Though it seems fine, doubt lingers instead
I get it," Ethan said, fingers curled around his sword's handle. That weapon carried magic - something his dad, the old king, gave him - and it'd cut down killers, traitors, or crooked lords while he climbed to the top. Still, that's exactly why we're standing here now. The Velvet Merchant believes this spot's safe. Shielded by cash, backed by powerful allies, hidden behind a fake front of respectability. Before dawn breaks, we'll show how badly he miscalculated
Back there, a line of nine Black Guard troops held tight ranks. Top fighters, chosen only if they were sharp and faithful. These were old hands who'd stuck with Ethan during crackdowns on rivals, also missions buried deep - never logged anywhere.
Captain Thorne—a scarred veteran with cold eyes that had seen too many battles—scanned the building's perimeter. "Standard wealthy estate security, Your Highness. I count eight guards visible on the perimeter, probably twice that inside. But the security is too perfect. Too professional for a merchant's home. These are military-trained operators pretending to be civilian guards."
"Mercenaries," Ethan said. "Elite ones. Expensive."
"Which means whoever runs this location has serious funding," Lieutenant Kara observed from behind them. The blonde warrior carried twin longswords and moved with a fighter's grace. "More than just trafficking profits would provide. This is backed by someone with real wealth."
"Or multiple someones," Ethan said. "The client list we recovered from Verne suggests this operation has noble patrons. Plural. Men with power and money who enjoy... specific entertainments."
His tone hinted at anger just beneath the surface. From day one, Ethan knew about dirty deals - learned early how his dad twisted rules in court while treating people like pawns. Yet this felt worse. It wasn't random abuse - it was an organized trade in kids, run like a company, shielded by systems supposed to stop such crimes.
"All teams, this is Prince Ethan," he said into the communication spell. "We're in position at the noble quarter location. Preparing for entry. We'll be five minutes behind schedule due to additional security complications."
"Copy," Darius's voice came back. "All other teams proceed as planned. Do not wait for us."
Ethan looked at the structure once more, his sharp instincts spotting flaws. Though the main door stood out, it felt too easy. Since guards likely covered the side doors, they weren't safe. Meanwhile, the rear staff entry? Most definitely rigged.
"Captain Thorne," he said. "If you were designing this building as a fortress disguised as a mansion, where would you put the real security?"
Thorne's eyes swept the structure with professional assessment. "Underground. The intelligence said this building has basement levels not on official plans. That's where the real operation happens. Everything above ground is just theater."
"Agreed," Ethan said. "Which means we need to—"
"Your Highness," Sergeant Keller interrupted urgently. "Movement. North side. Someone's watching us."
Ethan's fingers crept toward his sword - hesitated there. Not now. "You recognize this?"
"Negative. Shadow-cloaked. Professional concealment. They knew we were coming."
Ethan's blood turned cold - this wasn't right. It clicked now - it had all been set up. From day one, someone was waiting.
All squads - he blurted through the comms charm - Noble sector's got
The link just dropped - silence hit right in the middle, like a wire got yanked without warning.
Thorne immediately touched his temple, trying to reconnect. "It's blocked. Magical interference. Strong enough to overwhelm the spell entirely."
"They knew we'd come," Lieutenant Kara muttered, fingers brushing the grips of her blades. "Every bit of this? A trap."
"Let's find out whether they can deal with what they snagged," Ethan muttered, voice sharp. His rapier slid free, the magic edge flickering in a dim blue haze. "Thorne - break up your team. Grab five men, lock down the outside. No one slips away. Kara, move in behind me." . We burst through the main door, full force. When they try to corner us, we trigger their setup - our way
"Your Highness, we should retreat," Thorne objected. "Get reinforcements, coordinate with the other teams—"
"No," Ethan said flatly. "If there are children in that building being held hostage, retreating condemns them. We go in, we extract them, and we kill anyone who stands in our way. Clear?"
The Black Guard troops looked at each other - after a pause, they agreed through firm nods.
"To win the title," Captain Thorne muttered.
"For the children," Ethan corrected. "Now move."
Thorne slipped away with five troops, vanishing into the dark to flank the structure. Meanwhile, Ethan neared the main door alongside Lt. Kara, Sgt. Keller, plus a pair of Black Guard fighters, guns ready, advancing in tight formation.
The lookouts posted up ahead spotted the pair approaching, so they grabbed their guns -
Ethan's rapier darted forward - slicing the first guard's neck clean open before any cry escaped. That magic-edged weapon slithered through air like storm-charged quicksilver, each motion shaped by endless hours sparring against the realm's deadliest fencers.
The next guard pulled out his weapon. Yet Keller's steel pierced straight into his chest.
Another four guards rushed out of the doorway. While Ethan shoved his way inside, the Black Guard clashed with them at once.
The entryway looked fancy - shiny tiles, glass lights hanging above, pricey paintings on walls - but then there were two dozen gun-toting fighters standing stiff like statues.
Ethan Valisar, Prince," someone shouted from behind the group. Out came a woman - around fifty - with clothes that looked rich, like those worn by wealthy traders. She smiled slightly. "Nice of you to show up; we knew you'd come."
"You're under arrest," Ethan said coldly. "By authority of the crown, this establishment is charged with—"
"Save the speeches," the woman interrupted. "We both know you're not here for arrests. You're here for blood. The Velvet Merchant sends his regards."
She lifted her arm - then the fighters moved in.
Ethan's sword flashed like lightning, sharp and fast. Unlike Magnus, who used dark tricks to crush his foes, or Darius, who just powered through, he moved with quiet control. Every hit had a purpose, timed perfectly - not one wasted motion, every step set up the next chance to strike.
A hired fighter charged forward, swinging a thick sword. Instead of blocking, Ethan shifted aside - his thin blade slipped into the gap near the guy's arm, right where metal didn't cover skin. He pulled the weapon out fast, so quick the attacker hadn't even felt it yet.
From either side, two others closed in - just like a textbook squeeze. Ethan crouched down low, waited for their rush to overshoot, then slashed one across the neck; meanwhile, Kara's pair of blades snapped shut on the other guy, slicing deep enough to almost knock his head clean off.
Sergeb Keller plus two more troops kept the back exit blocked, stopping outer guards from chasing. Yet twenty hired fighters versus five - even top-tier troops - was a number game that rarely ends well.
The woman in merchant's robes smiled coldly. "Kill the prince. The Velvet Merchant wants his head."
The mercenaries advanced in tight order. Not your average street fighters - each one watched the others' backs, shifting carefully, testing where we might break.
Ethan's thin sword sliced through the air in sharp arcs, yet his feet kept retreating without choice. Fighting at his side, Kara moved with raw precision - her two weapons slicing past defenses and biting into enemies - though crimson soaked her left sleeve after a lucky strike slipped past.
"Your Highness," Sergeant Keller called from the entrance, his voice strained. "More guards coming from outside—we can't hold much longer!"
This was it. The snare snapping shut. Straight into a setup they'd marched, yet now -
The old house's flank panes burst open, spitting shards along with broken timber.
Captain Thorne dropped down with half a dozen Black Guard troops using magic ropes, landing smooth on the shiny stone. After locking down the outer zone, they showed up right on time.
Perimeter's locked down, Your Highness!" Thorne called out, blade slicing fast through the mercenaries' lines. Not a soul escapes - count on it
"Excellent," Ethan said coldly. "Now let's finish this."
The Black Guard advanced together, their ranks slicing through the hired fighters like a blade. Not just any troops - these men had lived through the Border Wars, battled renegade spellcasters, taken down killer sects. Facing regular sellswords, no matter how skilled, stood zero chance.
Ethan pushed ahead, his rapier slipping through weak spots like a needle through cloth. When a hired fighter swung a heavy mace at his skull, he dipped low - then slashed up, slicing into the guy's inner thigh in one smooth motion. Down went the soldier, fingers fumbling against the gush of blood without fixing anything.
Lieutenant Kara moved fast, slashing with two swords so no one got close. When three hired fighters attacked together - she twisted past their moves, slicing through armor and skin, dropping each one behind her.
The lady dressed like a trader shuffled toward a side exit, her sure grin now crumbling into fear. Retreat - get down to the lower floors fast!
"No one falls back," Ethan said. He moved with fluid speed, his rapier intercepting her path. "You're going to tell me where the children are. Now."
"Go to hell, princeling," she spat.
Ethan's sword sliced through the air before she even saw it coming. That thin point nicked her neck, just enough to bleed. "Kids. Talk."
"Basement three," she gasped. "Holding cells on basement three. But you'll never reach them. The Velvet Merchant has—"
Her eyes shot open. Then came a gag - blood spilling fast from her lips. Down she fell, the handle of a thrown blade now visible sticking out her back.
Ethan whirled around, eyes scanning for whoever struck. Off in the shadows, someone dressed in black slipped through a side door used by staff - one more killer, cleaning up traces behind them.
"Go after him!" Ethan shouted. Right away, a pair of Black Guard troops split off, chasing the runaway killer.
The leftover fighters, spotting their leader down and their group falling apart, began raising hands. But Captain Thorne moved fast - he'd heard the prince's command loud. Spare no one dealing in stolen kids.
The entryway turned into a bloodbath. The Black Guard proved their reputation across the realm - less about how many, more about how deadly they were. In no time, every one of the two dozen hired fighters was either down or gasping for life.
Casualties?" Ethan said while cleaning gore off his sword.
"Minor wounds only, Your Highness," Captain Thorne reported. "Lieutenant Kara needs healing, but she can fight."
Kara claimed she was okay, yet her skin looked ghostly white. The cut on her arm ran worse than she let on.
"Sergeant Keller, stay with the lieutenant. Bind that wound properly," Ethan ordered. "Captain Thorne, the rest of us push to basement three. We find those children and we get them out."
"Your Highness," Thorne said carefully. "The woman said the Velvet Merchant has something waiting. Could be more mercenaries, could be magical traps, could be—"
"I don't care what's waiting," Ethan interrupted. His grey eyes were cold as winter steel. "There are children being held in cages three floors below us. Every second we delay is another second they spend in hell. We move. Now."
The Black Guard gave a quick nod - been with Prince Ethan long enough to handle tougher messes.
They spotted the way down to the lower floors behind a secret panel inside a room that looked like an office. Going downstairs led straight into blackness, with just sporadic magic flames giving off shaky light against rough wall surfaces.
"Defensive formation," Thorne ordered quietly. "Expect ambush at every corner."
They moved down slow, guns at the ready. On the first lower floor, it was just storage - boxes of pricey wine, canned goods, typical stuff you'd find in a rich family's home. The next level down had number-cruncher desks and quiet rooms for talks behind closed doors. All of it seemed above board.
The third floor below ground felt odd somehow - yet kinda familiar at once.
The stairway led out into a hall with heavy iron doors along both sides. Every one of them carried a little window covered in bars. But behind each door were noises that froze Ethan straight through - soft crying, mumbled words like prayers, the drag and clink of metal links.
"Goddamn," a guy from the Black Guard muttered under his breath. "Just how many're out there?"
"Clear every room," Ethan said, his voice tight with controlled fury. "Find keys, break locks, I don't care. Get those doors open."
They rushed along the hallway. A bunch of keys dangled from a hook - likely left behind by guards who'd run off or got killed above. Thorne started popping locks open as Ethan and the rest watched his back.
The first cell had three girls, each no more than twelve, locked to the wall. As soon as the door creaked open, they started screaming - scared stiff about who might walk in.
We're here to help," Ethan said, keeping his tone soft even though anger flared inside him. Because we're pulling you free. Since you're out of danger now
Yet the girls seemed unsure about his words - they'd heard false stories in the past.
Thorne kept unlocking doors. Inside, kids - both boys and girls, maybe eight up to fourteen - huddled in corners. Certain ones lay still, knocked out by drugs. A handful gazed off blankly, like their minds had broken long ago. Now and then, a child would lash out at the soldiers reaching to help, too wrecked inside to tell safety from danger.
"We have nineteen children," Thorne reported grimly. "All alive, but some need immediate medical attention."
"Get them upstairs," Ethan ordered. "Signal for the medical team—"
A doorway down the hall swung open. Out came a guy - towering, sharp outfit, carried himself like someone used to giving orders. Following close behind? Four armed fighters clad in thick metal gear.
"Prince Ethan," the nobleman said smoothly. "Lord Cassian Valerius, at your service. I'm afraid you're trespassing on private property."
Ethan knew that name - Lord Valerius, a rich trader tied to plenty of high-born families across the realm; someone his dad had shared meals with during official gatherings.
"You're under arrest," Ethan said coldly. "Human trafficking. Conspiracy. Crimes against children."
"Arrest?" Valerius laughed. "My dear prince, you have no authority here. This property is protected by commercial charter—you need a warrant signed by the High Court, proper notice to property owners, and witnesses from the Merchant's Guild. Without those, everything you've done tonight is illegal. Any testimony from these... products... will be inadmissible."
Items," Ethan murmured again, quiet-like. The blade in his hand flared up stronger now. Not people - just goods, he'd said 'em like that
"They are merchandise," Valerius said with a shrug. "Valuable merchandise, which you are currently damaging. The Velvet Merchant will want compensation for your vandalism."
"The Velvet Merchant," Ethan said. "Where is he?"
Oh, there's no way you'll track him down - he stays hidden on purpose. Super guarded, always one step ahead. Sure, go ahead - lock me up, end my life, drag me through court if it makes you feel better. Still won't matter. That top guy? You're never getting close to him. Give it four weeks, another player takes over right here. People want what we sell, can't get enough. Money keeps rolling in, so why would anyone stop? You won't halt it, little prince - just stir up a racket
"Perhaps," Ethan said. "But I can start by stopping you."
He moved.
Lord Valerius hardly caught the shock when Ethan's sword pierced his chest. That magic edge sliced clean - through rich fabric just like it did living meat.
"Your Highness!" Captain Thorne shouted. "He was unarmed! That was—"
"Necessary," Ethan finished coldly, withdrawing his blade. Lord Valerius collapsed, blood spreading across marble floors. "He would have used legal protections, bribed judges, threatened witnesses. He would have walked free within weeks and gone right back to 'selling products.' I will not allow that."
The four armored fighters backing Valerius lunged forward. While the Black Guard struck back in tight formation, these weren't just any hired blades - they were sharper, tougher than those from above - most likely his own private enforcers - yet even that edge didn't make them a real threat against the king's top soldiers.
The battle was fierce but quick. Once it stopped, every one of the four hired fighters had died.
"Secure the children," Ethan ordered. "Get them upstairs, get them medical attention. Captain Thorne, search every room down here. If there are documents, ledgers, correspondence—anything that might lead us to the Velvet Merchant—I want it found."
"Your Highness," Thorne said carefully. "What you did to Lord Valerius... there will be political consequences. He was nobility. Connected. His family will demand—"
"Let them demand," Ethan said. His voice was ice. "Let them scream to my father about justice and proper procedures. Let them complain to the High Court. I don't care. That man was trafficking children. He deserved worse than a quick death."
"I'm not disagreeing, Your Highness. But the law—"
"The law failed these children," Ethan interrupted, gesturing to the cells. "The law with its procedures and protocols and proper notices allowed this place to operate for months. Maybe years. So tonight, I am the law. And my justice is final."
Captain Thorne nodded slowly. "Understood, Your Highness. We'll secure the children."
While the Black Guard started quietly untying and soothing the shaken prisoners, Ethan moved down the cell hallway by himself. Every unlocked doorway showed yet another grim detail - rusty shackles, cold rock underfoot, just enough scraps to leave survivors breathing but crushed.
His fingers tightened around the sword's handle. Out in the dark, the Silk Trader sat observing - most likely mapping what comes next, where he'll show up, who ends up caught in his web.
That night, though, Ethan got nineteen kids out alive - using courage like ink on paper. He'd made it clear: nobody's safe forever… not even those who thought they were above it all.
He only wished the others were doing just as well.
Also, the price wouldn't run up sky-high
To Be Continued in Chapter 39...