The estate on the western ridge had once belonged to a minor count.
Now it housed foreign guests.
Elegant. Wealthy. Refined.
And completely wrong.
Inside the grand sitting hall, twin figures stood before a tall mirror.
They looked nearly identical.
Pale skin. Silver-blond hair. Fine aristocratic features.
Nineteen years old.
The boy adjusted his cufflinks lazily.
"Do I look harmless enough?"
The girl smiled faintly, adjusting a jeweled hairpin.
"You always do."
Their names in the empire's registry:
Lord Caelum AetherisLady Lyra Aetheris
Children of a high-ranking minister from the neighboring Empire of Virellion.
Officially — diplomatic observers.
Unofficially — nothing so simple.
Lyra stepped toward the balcony.
From there, the palace was visible in the distance.
"He is fascinating," she murmured.
Caelum tilted his head.
"You're thinking about the flare."
"Yes."
Her smile widened slightly.
"He protected the sister before calculating."
Caelum's eyes gleamed faintly.
"So he can be pulled."
Lyra turned back.
"Not easily."
"No."
He walked toward a small velvet-covered table.
On it rested a metallic object the size of a palm.
Intricate. Delicate. Engraved with runes not native to Drakenhart design.
"His mana is structured," Caelum said softly. "Disciplined. But cracked."
Lyra leaned beside him.
"And cracks resonate."
Below the estate—
In a stone cellar reinforced with anti-detection sigils—
Five figures were chained to iron posts.
Their bodies twitched unnaturally.
Eyes unfocused.
Veins faintly glowing violet beneath their skin.
A sixth figure lay on a table.
Not dead.
Not fully alive.
A slow mechanical hum echoed from a device connected to the figure's chest.
Lyra descended the cellar steps gracefully.
Caelum followed.
"Subject six?" she asked.
Caelum checked the readings etched into a crystal slate.
"Stable at thirty-seven percent suppression."
Lyra crouched in front of the restrained figure.
The man's eyes rolled toward her.
Unseeing.
She brushed his cheek lightly.
"You're very helpful," she whispered gently.
The man's body spasmed violently.
Lyra stood, unconcerned.
"His mana signature collapsed correctly under resonance pressure."
Caelum nodded.
"We can reproduce it."
This device — their creation — did not explode.
Did not siphon.
It altered mana flow frequency in a localized field.
Specifically — it weakened unstable cores.
And Arthur's core was unstable.
Lyra looked upward toward the palace.
"He believes the secret organization is leading the board."
Caelum smiled faintly.
"They believe they are."
They had embedded themselves within the secret organization carefully.
Not as subordinates.
As assets.
The organization believed the twins were loyal to destabilization ideology.
The twins believed ideology was boring.
They were here for something else.
Curiosity.
Challenge.
Lyra walked toward one of the chained figures.
"This empire worships him."
She tilted her head.
"What happens when their god falters?"
Caelum adjusted the device slightly.
"Soon."
—
Back in the palace—
Arthur sat across from Seraphina and Valmont.
Reports of missing persons had increased.
Twelve now.
No bodies.
No ransom demands.
No political messaging.
Which meant—
Not leverage.
Experimentation.
Arthur's eyes darkened.
"They are testing."
Valmont nodded.
"Quietly."
Seraphina added,
"Several foreign delegates have extended their stay beyond the festival."
Arthur turned toward her.
"List."
She handed him a scroll.
His eyes scanned names.
Then stopped.
Caelum Aetheris.Lyra Aetheris.
Age nineteen.
Reputation: Brilliant. Eccentric. Exceptionally educated.
Arthur tapped the parchment lightly.
"These two."
Valmont frowned.
"Children."
Arthur didn't smile.
"No."
—
Later that evening—
Arthur changed his appearance for the first time since transmigration.
Not illusion magic.
Physical alteration.
Subtle posture shift.
Different hairstyle.
Simple clothing.
No royal insignia.
He walked alone into the lower merchant district.
Darius did not know.
Seraphina did not know.
Emily would be furious.
But this was necessary.
He needed eyes outside the palace.
He stopped near a blacksmith's forge.
Watched carefully.
The blacksmith was skilled.
Efficient.
Arthur stepped forward casually.
"Your airflow is inefficient."
The blacksmith scowled.
"What?"
Arthur pointed.
"Your bellows angle reduces oxygen intake by twelve percent."
The man frowned.
"Who are you?"
Arthur crouched and adjusted the intake vent slightly.
"Try now."
The blacksmith did.
The flame surged brighter instantly.
The man blinked.
"…How did you—"
Arthur stood.
"You could refine your steel quality further with controlled carbon layering."
The blacksmith stared.
Arthur left before questions followed.
He moved through the streets.
Observing.
Testing.
He stopped near a group of dockworkers arguing over pulley systems.
"You're wasting energy," he said casually.
They glared at him.
Until he demonstrated a simple counterweight adjustment.
The load lifted smoother.
Less strain.
They stared.
Arthur smiled faintly.
Seeds.
He would not introduce guns tomorrow.
Nor electricity next week.
But he would begin collecting minds.
Talent.
People who thought.
People who adapted.
He stopped near a young woman repairing a broken lantern circuit.
She frowned at faulty mana wiring.
Arthur crouched beside her.
"Your insulation is wrong."
She looked up sharply.
"And you're an expert?"
"No."
He adjusted the circuit angle.
"Mana doesn't flow like water."
The lantern stabilized.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…Who are you?"
Arthur stood.
"Someone who needs curious people."
He walked away.
She watched him go.
—
Back at the estate—
Lyra stood at the window.
She had felt something.
A subtle shift in the capital's mana density.
Caelum joined her.
"He's moving."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"Yes."
"He's searching."
She turned toward him.
"Good."
Caelum lifted the small suppression device.
"We'll let him search."
Lyra's eyes gleamed softly.
"And then?"
Caelum's smile matched hers.
"We'll let him bleed."
—
Back in his chambers—
Arthur stood before the mirror.
His core pulsed faintly.
Unstable.
But no longer reactive.
He had made a decision tonight.
He would not only defend.
He would evolve the empire.
Industry.
Infrastructure.
Weaponry.
Energy.
Not suddenly.
Gradually.
Simultaneously with threats.
He looked at his reflection.
"They want to exploit my weakness."
His golden eyes sharpened.
"Then I will create strengths they cannot anticipate."
Outside—
In the cellar beneath the western estate—
A chained figure screamed once.
Then fell silent.
And two beautiful nineteen-year-olds watched.
With interest.