The old road became easier to follow as the group traveled south.
Broken stones slowly gave way to packed earth, and the trees no longer grew close enough to block the sky completely.
Narrow wooden posts appeared beside the path, each carved with symbols used by the Freedom Association to guide travelers through dangerous areas.
Darven walked at the front with his large shield strapped across his back.
Pell, the quiet swordsman in his party, followed several steps behind him and kept looking toward the surrounding trees.
Lysa remained near the wounded Imperial officer.
She had stopped the bleeding and closed most of the wound, but the man still could not walk without support.
His companion carried part of his weight while both of his hands remained tied with enchanted rope.
Aizen walked beside them.
To the adventurers, he was Seiren Voss, a newly registered bronze-ranked researcher from Blumund.
To the two prisoners, he was the unknown spiritual being that had emerged from the ruins beneath the mountain.
Neither group understood that the other possessed part of the truth.
The wounded Imperial had remained silent since they left the abandoned observation post.
That silence had protected him at first, but it was beginning to work against him.
Darven had asked his name several times.
Lysa had asked what unit he served in, and Pell had searched his clothing.
They had found Imperial weapons, military equipment hidden beneath merchant clothing, and no trade papers supporting the story the men had originally given them.
Every unanswered question made the adventurers more suspicious.
Aizen had not needed to accuse the man of anything.
He simply allowed the silence to become heavier with every mile.
Darven looked over his shoulder.
“How much longer can he keep walking?”
Lysa wiped sweat from her forehead.
“If we keep this pace, maybe another hour.
After that, either we stop or someone carries him.”
The wounded Imperial finally spoke.
“I don’t need to be carried.”
Lysa looked at the blood beginning to appear through his bandage.
“You can barely stand.”
“I said I can walk.”
“You can fall forward and catch yourself with one foot.
I wouldn’t call that walking.”
Pell gave a quiet laugh.
The Imperial officer glared at him.
Darven stopped and turned around.
“We should reach Greybank before sunset.
Once we get there, you can explain everything to the branch chief.”
The second Imperial tightened his arm around his injured companion.
“We have nothing to explain.”
Darven stared at him.
“You were carrying hidden Imperial weapons while pretending to be merchants.”
“They were for protection.”
“You attacked our healer.”
The wounded man turned toward Aizen.
“He made me do it.”
Everyone looked at Aizen.
His expression remained calm.
The Imperial continued.
“He changed what I saw.
I was trying to attack him, but he made Lysa appear somewhere else.”
Lysa frowned.
“That does not make attacking me sound better.”
“You don’t understand what he is.”
Darven watched Aizen carefully.
“Do you want to explain?”
Aizen looked at the road ahead.
“The man believes I altered his perception.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The direct answer silenced the group.
Pell’s hand moved closer to his sword.
Darven’s eyes narrowed.
“You could have denied it.”
“That would have made you feel better for several minutes, but it would not have changed what happened.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“I caused him to misjudge Lysa’s position.”
Lysa looked at him sharply.
“You knew he was about to attack me?”
“Yes.”
“And you redirected him into his companion.”
“Yes.”
The wounded Imperial’s anger returned.
“You admit it so easily.”
Aizen looked at him.
“I was never trying to hide it.”
Darven stepped between them before the prisoner could move closer.
“Why didn’t you simply stop him?”
“I did stop him.”
“You know what I mean.
You could have knocked him down or taken away his weapon.”
Aizen studied Darven for a moment.
The adventurer was not upset because an Imperial soldier had been injured.
He was disturbed because Aizen had chosen the response most likely to leave lasting fear.
Darven had noticed the intention behind the act.
That made him more perceptive than his rank suggested.
“If a man attacks and fails to reach his target, he learns that his opponent was faster,” Aizen said.
“If he strikes his own ally because he cannot trust his senses, he begins questioning every decision he makes afterward.”
Darven’s expression darkened.
“So you did it on purpose.”
“Yes.”
Lysa stared at Aizen.
“You wanted to frighten him.”
“I wanted to know how quickly a trained Imperial agent would recover after learning that his own perception could not be trusted.”
“And what did you learn?”
“He has not recovered.”
The wounded officer tried to pull away from his companion.
“You think this is some kind of experiment?”
Aizen turned toward him.
“Almost everything I have encountered today is an experiment.”
Pell drew his sword halfway.
Darven raised one hand without looking at him.
“Keep it sheathed.”
“You heard him,” Pell said.
“We don’t know anything about this man.”
“We know his Association plate is valid.”
“That only proves someone made it valid.”
Aizen shifted his eyes toward Pell.
The swordsman noticed and slowly pushed the blade back into its sheath, although his body remained tense.
Darven rubbed his jaw.
“You said you were a researcher.”
“I am.”
“What kind of research?”
“Spiritual systems, perception, magical structures, and the relationship between power and identity.”
“That covers a lot.”
“I have recently expanded my interests.”
The statement was true in more ways than Darven could understand.
Lysa moved closer.
“Was the creature under the mountain part of your research?”
Aizen allowed a short pause before answering.
“Yes.”
The wounded Imperial stared at him.
Darven noticed the reaction immediately.
“You know more about that place than you told us.”
“I know enough to understand that the Empire tried to summon something it could not control.”
“What did they summon?”
Aizen looked toward the prisoner.
The man’s face tightened because he expected Aizen to expose everything.
Instead, Aizen gave him a more troubling answer.
“I do not know.”
Darven looked disappointed.
The Imperial looked confused.
Aizen continued before either of them could interrupt.
“I reached the outer ruins after the main collapse.
I found evidence of a dimensional ritual, foreign spiritual energy, and Imperial equipment.
Whatever crossed through the ritual had already escaped.”
Every part of the answer was true.
Lysa frowned.
“You said you met an Imperial patrol.”
“I did.”
“Did they attack you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because witnesses make official explanations difficult.”
Darven looked toward the two prisoners.
Neither one denied it.
Their silence supported Aizen more effectively than any confession could have.
The group began walking again.
After several minutes, Darven slowed until he was beside Aizen.
“You’re unusually calm for someone who was attacked by Imperial intelligence.”
“Would panic improve my situation?”
“No.”
“Then displaying it would serve no purpose.”
“Most people don’t decide whether they panic.”
“They often decide whether anyone else sees it.”
Darven glanced at him.
“You speak like a politician.”
“I haven’t been in this country long enough to know whether that is an insult.”
Darven laughed.
“That depends on which politician you’re talking about.”
“What is Blumund known for?”
“Being small, cautious, and much better at collecting secrets than winning wars.”
“Then the kingdom survives by learning what stronger nations intend before those intentions become armies.”
Darven looked at him for a moment.
“That sounds exactly like something one of our ministers would say.”
“Perhaps I should meet them.”
“Maybe stay bronze-ranked for longer than a day before you start arranging meetings with ministers.”
Aizen smiled faintly.
“You believe rank determines access.”
“It usually does.”
“Then rank is a door, not a measure of ability.”
Darven looked ahead.
“You are going to become troublesome.”
“I have heard that before.”
The road eventually descended from the forest into a wide valley.
Fields stretched beyond the final trees, and farmers worked beneath the afternoon sun.
Wooden windmills turned slowly in the distance, their movement too steady to depend entirely on the natural wind.
Greybank stood beside a shallow river.
It was not a large town.
A wooden wall surrounded several hundred buildings made from gray timber and river stone.
Watchtowers stood above the gates, and merchant wagons waited outside while guards inspected cargo and travel papers.
Aizen found the ordinary activity more interesting than the town itself.
Magicules flowed through everything.
They moved weakly through farmers and merchants, but more heavily through guards and adventurers.
Several buildings contained barriers or enchanted tools.
Even the windmills used simple magical formations to keep the blades moving when the wind weakened.
In Soul Society, that level of supernatural energy would have separated the ordinary from the extraordinary.
In this world, it had become part of daily life.
Aizen observed everything without appearing to stare.
Lysa noticed his attention.
“First time in Greybank?”
“Yes.”
“You really must come from a small village.”
“Something like that.”
“What part of Blumund?”
“The northern district.”
“That isn’t very specific.”
“I prefer an accurate answer to a detailed lie.”
Lysa gave him a suspicious look.
Aizen had revealed just enough to make the answer sound like guarded honesty rather than deception.
At the gate, Darven presented his party’s Association plates.
The guard inspected them one at a time, then looked toward the prisoners.
“What happened to them?”
“We found them in Jura pretending to be merchants,” Darven said.
“Both were carrying concealed Imperial weapons.
One of them attacked our healer.”
The guard’s posture changed immediately.
“Imperial soldiers?”
“Possibly.”
The wounded man straightened as much as his injury allowed.
“We request diplomatic protection.”
Darven looked at him.
“You spent the last three hours denying you were Imperial.”
“That was before you brought us inside a recognized settlement.”
The guard glanced toward the nearest watchtower.
Another man had already begun signaling someone inside the town.
Aizen noted how quickly they responded.
Greybank was clearly accustomed to border problems.
“What is your name?” the guard asked.
The prisoner hesitated.
Aizen watched him consider the risk.
A false name might protect his mission for a short time, but the Freedom Association would investigate it.
A real name might bring enough pressure from the Empire to secure his release.
The man chose partial truth.
“Lieutenant Marek Sorn.”
His companion looked at him sharply.
Darven noticed.
The guard wrote down the name.
“What unit?”
Marek said nothing.
“What was your mission?”
“No answer.”
The guard sighed.
“You understand that refusing to cooperate makes this look worse.”
“I understand that this town has no legal authority to interrogate an Imperial officer.”
“This is not Imperial territory.”
“Exactly.
You should be careful about creating an international incident.”
Darven stepped toward him.
“You created the incident when you tried to take Lysa hostage.”
Marek looked at him.
“You were interfering with a classified military operation.”
“We found you bleeding beside a road.”
“You should have left us there.”
Lysa’s face hardened.
“And allowed you to die?”
Marek glanced down at the clean bandages around his body.
For the first time, embarrassment appeared on his face.
He had been saved by the same woman he later attacked.
Aizen saw the conflict immediately.
Gratitude weakened hostility, but shame often restored it with even more force.
Marek needed a reason to believe Lysa’s help did not create a debt.
Aizen gave him one.
“She did not save you for the Empire.”
Everyone looked toward him.
Aizen continued.
“She treated you because refusing would have changed the way she saw herself.
Your identity was not the most important part of her decision.”
Lysa frowned.
“That isn’t completely true.”
Aizen looked at her.
“No?”
“I didn’t want him to die.”
“Why?”
“Because he was injured.”
“Would you have healed him if you knew he would kill Darven the moment you finished?”
Lysa’s expression changed.
“No.”
“Then preserving his life was not your highest principle.”
Darven crossed his arms.
“What point are you trying to make?”
“That an action can help someone without being done for that person.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Marek stared at Aizen.
The explanation removed the debt he felt toward Lysa.
Now he could view her help as something she had done for herself rather than for him.
That made him more comfortable.
Comfort would make him easier to guide later.
Lysa looked annoyed.
“You have a gift for making decent choices sound selfish.”
“Self-interest does not automatically make a choice indecent.”
“You actually believe that?”
“I believe pretending otherwise prevents people from understanding why they act.”
Before Lysa could answer, several officials approached from inside the gate.
The woman leading them wore a dark green Association coat with a silver badge near the collar.
Her gray hair had been pulled into a tight knot, and a thin scar crossed her chin.
Two armed adventurers walked beside her.
She stopped in front of Darven.
“Branch Chief Elara Morn.”
Darven bowed his head slightly.
“Darven Cole.
Iron-ranked party leader.”
Elara looked over the group.
Her gaze moved across the prisoners before settling on Aizen.
“Who is the researcher?”
Aizen presented his identification plate.
“Seiren Voss.”
Elara examined the plate using a small crystal lens.
The magical signature began to glow.
Rojan’s work held.
“Bronze rank,” Elara said.
“Registered in northern Blumund.”
“That is correct.”
“Your file is unusually thin.”
“I have completed very little documented work.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Aizen met her eyes.
“You expected more history.”
“I expected some history.”
Darven looked toward Aizen.
Lysa did the same.
Elara continued.
“The plate is valid, but the supporting record contains a registration date, a provisional magical classification, and a reference from a village official I have never heard of.”
Rojan had already begun building the false identity.
The history remained incomplete, but it existed.
Aizen allowed a small amount of concern to enter his expression.
“I was told the northern office had transferred the rest of my information.”
“They may have.
Greybank’s records are not always current.”
That answer protected both of them.
Elara did not want to admit that her archive might be unreliable.
Aizen no longer needed to defend the missing details.
She turned toward the prisoners.
“Take them to separate rooms.”
Marek stepped back.
“You have no jurisdiction over us.”
Elara looked at his bandaged side.
“You entered Blumund territory with hidden weapons after an unregistered magical disaster near the border.
You attacked Association members and refused to identify your mission.”
“I gave you my name.”
“You gave us a name.”
Her eyes hardened.
“If the Empire confirms your identity, we will contact the proper officials.
Until then, you are an armed traveler wearing expensive equipment and telling a poor story.”
The guards moved toward the prisoners.
Marek’s companion resisted.
His hand moved beneath his coat toward a hidden object.
Aizen felt magic activate.
It was not a weapon.
It was a communication crystal.
The man intended to send one final message before being taken away.
Aizen allowed him to touch it.
A faint light flashed beneath the fabric.
No one else noticed.
The Imperial relaxed slightly because he believed the message had been sent successfully.
Aizen had already changed what the crystal recorded.
His control over magicules was still incomplete, but the device relied on magical perception to identify the sender’s surroundings.
Kyōka Suigetsu could interfere with the imprint carrying those observations.
The message would report that two agents had been detained in Greybank, the escaped subject was believed to be wounded and moving north, and a local researcher possessed partial information.
The Empire would search north.
Rojan was already moving in that direction.
Aizen had not sent them toward him by accident.
He wanted Imperial attention near the outpost Rojan intended to enter.
A frightened garrison would become easier to manipulate.
Officers expecting an escaped spiritual creature would interpret unusual energy as evidence of its approach instead of noticing a human agent changing their records.
Aizen watched the prisoners being led into town.
The false message had now joined the story.
Elara turned toward Darven.
“You and your party will give statements.”
“Of course.”
“Separately.”
Darven sighed.
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“I trust people to remember events in ways that make them look better.”
Her eyes moved toward Aizen.
“The researcher will also give a statement.”
Aizen inclined his head.
Elara gestured toward the town.
“Welcome to Greybank, Master Voss.”
The words were polite.
Her tone was not.
The Freedom Association branch stood near the river in a three-story stone building.
The ground floor held a crowded public hall filled with adventurers, merchants, job postings, and monster notices.
The second floor contained offices and interview rooms.
The third floor was protected by a barrier strong enough to conceal several concentrated magical signatures.
Aizen noticed it immediately.
Restricted documents.
Intelligence reports.
Perhaps valuable magical objects.
He allowed his eyes to pass over the ceiling without pausing.
Elara separated the group.
Darven was taken into one room, Lysa into another, and Pell was led farther down the corridor with the remaining adventurers.
Aizen entered a quiet chamber containing a table, two chairs, and a narrow window overlooking the river.
A young man entered behind him carrying several papers under one arm.
He appeared to be around twenty-five, with dark hair and the tired expression of someone who had spent too many nights reading bad reports.
“My name is Fenn Arlow,” he said.
“I’m an Association investigator.”
“Seiren Voss.”
“I already know.”
Fenn sat across from him and placed a small crystal on the table.
“This records the magical changes associated with intentional deception.”
Aizen examined it.
“A device that detects lies?”
“Not exactly.
It measures pulse, breathing, emotional reactions, and instability in a person’s magicules.”
“So it detects discomfort.”
Fenn paused.
“That is one way of describing it.”
“An accurate one.”
“It has still proven useful.”
“I do not doubt that.”
Fenn activated the crystal.
A soft blue light appeared in its center.
“State your name.”
“Seiren Voss.”
The crystal remained blue.
“Place of birth?”
“Northern Blumund.”
The light did not change.
Aizen had already adjusted the energy around his body to match Rojan’s false signature.
He did not need to deceive the crystal completely.
He only needed to remain calm while speaking something inaccurate.
“Occupation?”
“Magical researcher.”
“Rank?”
“Bronze.”
“Why were you inside Jura?”
“I was investigating unusual magicule movement near the eastern mountains.”
“What kind of movement?”
“A sudden increase followed by a violent collapse.”
Fenn wrote down the answer.
“When did you first detect it?”
“Shortly before the mountain fell.”
“How close were you?”
“Close enough to reach the outer ruins afterward.”
The crystal remained blue.
Fenn looked up.
“You entered the site?”
“I approached the areas that remained accessible.”
“Were you alone?”
Aizen studied him more carefully.
That question had come earlier than expected.
Elara suspected that another person had survived.
Perhaps Darven had noticed signs that someone else was hiding inside the observation station.
Perhaps one of the Imperials had mentioned Rojan.
Aizen chose the truth most likely to create uncertainty.
“I saw evidence that another person escaped.”
The crystal remained blue.
Fenn leaned forward.
“What kind of evidence?”
“Blood near the western slope, human footprints, and signs that someone with an injured leg moved toward Jura.”
“Did you follow the trail?”
“For a short distance.”
“Did you find the survivor?”
“No.”
That was true.
Rojan had found him.
Fenn continued writing.
“Could the survivor have caused the spiritual disturbance?”
“Unlikely.”
“Why?”
“The energy around the ritual did not have a human structure.”
“You’re certain?”
“No.”
Fenn’s pen stopped.
“You just said it wasn’t human.”
“I said the structure was not human.
That does not mean its original form could not have been.”
The investigator studied him.
“What are you saying?”
“The summoning may have altered whatever crossed between worlds.”
“You think the subject was an Otherworlder?”
“Possibly.”
“Was it human?”
“Perhaps originally.”
That distinction would matter.
The Freedom Association dealt with Otherworlders regularly.
If the escaped subject had once been human, some officials would argue that it needed rescue or negotiation.
Others would see it as a valuable source of information.
The investigation would no longer be a simple monster hunt.
Different priorities would divide the people leading it.
“Did you actually see the subject?” Fenn asked.
Aizen looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
The crystal stayed blue.
Fenn’s posture changed.
Darven had probably reported only that Aizen reached the ruins after the collapse.
This was new information.
“Describe him.”
Aizen allowed the silence to last for several seconds.
A normal witness recalling something frightening would hesitate.
He needed to show a trace of emotion without losing control.
“He looked like a man.”
Fenn frowned.
“You said the energy was not human.”
“The appearance was.”
“How old?”
“An adult.
His exact age was difficult to determine.”
“Hair?”
“Dark.”
“Clothing?”
“White.”
“Was he carrying a weapon?”
“No.”
“Did he speak?”
“Yes.”
Fenn’s hand tightened around the pen.
“What did he say?”
Aizen remembered standing beneath the night sky beside Rojan.
First, I will learn why this world believed it had the right to summon me.
Repeating those words would reveal too much.
Instead, he gave the investigator a statement designed to spread.
“He asked who ruled Jura.”
Fenn stared at him.
“That was his first question?”
“The first one I heard.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That no single ruler controlled the forest.”
Aizen watched the investigator’s face as the next question formed.
“How did he react?”
“He seemed interested.”
Fenn glanced toward the crystal as though he expected it to explain the answer.
The light remained blue.
The investigator lowered his voice.
“Did he threaten Blumund?”
“No.”
“The Empire?”
“No.”
“Jura?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think he is dangerous?”
Aizen leaned back slightly.
“Because he had just survived something powerful enough to destroy a mountain, yet the first thing that interested him was who held authority.”
The blue light reflected in Fenn’s eyes.
That sentence would appear in the official report.
It would be copied, shortened, discussed, misunderstood, and eventually repeated as rumor.
Some would hear it and imagine a conqueror searching for territory.
Others would picture a confused Otherworlder trying to understand where he had arrived.
The Empire would know the description belonged to Aizen.
Feldway’s faction would hear that he was already asking about rulers.
Perhaps, one day, Guy Crimson would hear that an unknown spiritual being had entered Jura and immediately asked who governed it.
One statement could carry a different meaning to every listener.
Fenn continued writing.
“Which direction did he go?”
“Northwest.”
The crystal remained blue.
Aizen had allowed the Imperial patrol to see several versions of him moving in that direction.
The answer was true according to someone’s perception.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I had no reason to believe confronting him alone would produce anything useful.”
Fenn almost smiled.
“That may be the first ordinary decision you’ve described.”
“Is caution unusual here?”
“Not among people who survive Jura.”
He looked over his notes.
“What happened when the Imperial patrol arrived?”
“They came after the subject had already left.”
“How many soldiers?”
“Fourteen.”
“Who commanded them?”
“A man called Veyron.”
The crystal remained blue.
Fenn’s eyes widened.
“You know Commander Veyron?”
“No.”
“You knew his name.”
“One of the soldiers used it.”
“Veyron works for Imperial magical intelligence.”
“That explains why he wanted the witnesses removed.”
Fenn sat back.
The information was valuable.
Perhaps too valuable for a bronze-ranked researcher to possess by accident.
Aizen watched the suspicion return to his face.
“You handled fourteen intelligence agents by yourself?”
“I never said I defeated all of them.”
“Darven said the prisoners seemed afraid of you.”
“Fear is not a reliable record of what happened.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“The patrol tried to detain me.
Their coordination failed after their perception became unreliable.”
Fenn looked at the crystal.
It remained blue.
“You used illusion magic.”
“Yes.”
“What level?”
“I do not know how your Association classifies it.”
“Can you fool normal sight?”
“Yes.”
“Can you interfere with Magic Sense?”
“To an extent.”
The crystal flickered.
The light did not turn red.
It became purple.
Fenn immediately looked down.
The response had caused an unusual reaction.
Aizen had allowed that change intentionally.
If the crystal remained perfectly calm through every question, Fenn might suspect interference.
One uncertain result made the device appear trustworthy.
“To what extent?” Fenn asked.
“I only recently began testing its limits.”
The answer sounded evasive because it was.
Fenn wrote it down.
“Your file does not list illusion magic.”
“My file is incomplete.”
“That appears to be a common problem with you.”
“Yes.”
The investigator closed his notebook.
“Branch Chief Morn will want you to demonstrate your ability.”
“I expected that.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“Should I be?”
“That depends on whether Seiren Voss is your real identity.”
The crystal stayed blue.
Aizen looked at him.
Fenn had chosen direct confrontation.
That was encouraging.
“Who else would I be?” Aizen asked.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the question hidden inside yours.”
Fenn leaned forward.
“The Empire performs a forbidden summoning.
Something powerful escapes, and a few hours later, a researcher with almost no history appears carrying a valid but incomplete Association plate.
He knows advanced illusion magic, knows the name of an Imperial intelligence commander, and gives answers that remain true only because he phrases them too carefully to disprove.”
Aizen smiled faintly.
“You are better at this than your tired appearance suggests.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
“It was not intended to.”
Fenn rested one hand beside the crystal.
“Are you the escaped subject?”
Aizen held his gaze.
The room became silent.
A direct lie would be easy.
A direct truth might have been more interesting.
Neither would serve the larger plan.
“No,” Aizen said.
The crystal remained blue.
Fenn stared at it.
The answer was true according to the identity sitting before him.
Seiren Voss was not the escaped subject.
Seiren Voss was a name, a magical signature, and a role created after Aizen’s escape.
Fenn did not know that such a distinction existed.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, although the suspicion did not disappear.
“Did you help the subject escape?”
“No.”
“Are you working with him?”
“No.”
Both answers were true.
Aizen did not consider his identities separate people working together.
“Do you intend to help the Association capture him?”
Aizen paused.
The crystal waited.
“I intend to help you understand him.”
The light stayed blue.
Fenn frowned.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It was the answer available.”
Someone knocked on the door.
Fenn deactivated the crystal as Elara entered without waiting for permission.
She closed the door behind her.
“How much did he tell you?”
“Enough to create several new questions.”
“That sounds consistent.”
Elara looked at Aizen.
“Your Imperial prisoners have asked to contact their embassy immediately.”
“I expected that.”
“One of them also tried to send a message before entering town.”
Aizen said nothing.
Elara’s eyes sharpened.
“We intercepted part of it.”
Only part.
Aizen had expected Greybank to monitor unauthorized magical communication.
A damaged message would make the false information it contained seem more believable.
“What did it say?” Fenn asked.
Elara kept watching Aizen.
“It said the escaped subject was moving north and that a local researcher had information about it.”
Fenn glanced toward him.
Aizen remained calm.
“The message did not identify the researcher,” Elara continued.
“Then there is no reason to assume it referred to me.”
“You were the only researcher traveling with them.”
“According to the information you currently possess.”
Elara pulled out the second chair and sat down.
“I dislike people who answer questions like that.”
“People often dislike being reminded that their information is incomplete.”
“I know mine is incomplete.”
“Then you are less vulnerable than most.”
Elara’s mouth tightened.
She could not decide whether he had complimented her or issued a warning.
That uncertainty allowed Aizen to control the tone of the conversation.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Access to your public records regarding dimensional summoning, Otherworlders, spiritual races, and major magical powers.”
Fenn stared at him.
“That is a large request from a bronze-ranked researcher.”
“I did not request restricted information.”
“Not yet,” Elara said.
Aizen inclined his head.
“Not yet.”
The branch chief tapped one finger against the table.
“What are you offering in return?”
“My account of the ruined facility, an analysis of the subject’s energy, and help identifying the Empire’s involvement.”
“You expect us to believe you are doing this freely?”
“No.”
“Then what do you gain?”
“Knowledge.”
“That simple?”
“No.
But it is enough for our current arrangement.”
Elara looked toward Fenn.
He gave a small shrug.
The crystal had not shown a direct lie.
That did not mean he trusted Aizen.
It only meant he had no evidence strong enough to reject the offer.
Elara turned back toward him.
“You will remain in Greybank until this investigation is complete.”
“Am I being detained?”
“No.”
“Then I am free to leave.”
“You are.
However, every Association branch in Blumund will receive your description, and your credentials will be suspended until we finish reviewing them.”
“A threat?”
“A condition.”
Aizen smiled faintly.
Elara recognized her own language being returned to her.
“You find that amusing.”
“I find your method reasonable.”
“That may be the first thing you’ve said that actually worries me.”
She stood.
“You will receive a room at the Association inn.
Fenn will supervise your access to the public records.
You will not leave town without informing us.”
“What will happen to the Imperial officers?”
“That is not your concern.”
“It will become my concern when the Empire tries to recover them.”
Elara narrowed her eyes.
“You think they will act openly?”
“No.”
“Then what will they do?”
Aizen looked toward the window.
The river moved quietly outside.
Merchants crossed the bridge while guards inspected wagons entering the town.
“First, an Imperial official will deny that the facility existed.
Then someone will confirm Lieutenant Sorn’s identity but claim he was pursuing smugglers or criminals.
If that explanation fails, evidence will appear connecting the prisoners to an unauthorized unit acting without permission.”
Fenn listened carefully.
Elara remained still.
Aizen continued.
“While you focus on the official response, another team will enter Greybank.
They will not attempt a direct rescue unless they have no other option.
They will either arrange an escape or kill the prisoners before they reveal anything important.”
“You sound very certain.”
“Institutions prefer dead embarrassments to living contradictions.”
Elara looked toward the door.
“How soon?”
Aizen considered the distance, the speed of magical communication, and how Veyron was likely to react.
“Before morning.”
Fenn stood immediately.
“We need to move the prisoners.”
“No,” Aizen said.
Elara turned back.
“No?”
“If you move them now, the agents already watching the building will know that their message was intercepted.”
Fenn looked toward the window.
“You think Imperial agents are already inside Greybank?”
“I think the Empire would never depend on one method of recovering information from a classified operation.”
“What do you suggest?” Elara asked.
Aizen met her gaze.
“Let them believe the prisoners remain where they expect to find them.”
“You want us to guard empty cells?”
“No.
Move the prisoners somewhere secure and make it appear that nothing has changed.”
Fenn frowned.
“With an illusion.”
“Yes.”
Elara studied him for a long moment.
“You want to help set the trap.”
“I want to see who enters it.”
The branch chief crossed her arms.
“What prevents you from being part of the Imperial operation?”
“Nothing.”
“That is the wrong answer.”
“It is the honest one.”
Elara looked toward Fenn again.
The investigator sighed.
“I hate that the crystal likes him.”
“It measures discomfort,” Aizen reminded him.
Fenn gave him an irritated look.
Elara walked toward the door.
“We will move the prisoners through the archive passage.
Quietly.
Fenn, choose four people you trust.”
“Only four?”
“The fewer people who know, the fewer people who can betray us.”
She looked back at Aizen.
“You will create the illusion.”
Aizen stood.
“What would you like the attackers to see?”
Elara’s expression became cold.
“The prisoners asleep in their cells.”
Aizen walked toward the door.
“Then that is what they will believe they see.”
As he passed her, Elara spoke quietly.
“If this is a trap for us, I will make sure every Association branch in the Western Nations knows your face.”
Aizen stopped and looked at her.
“That would save me a considerable amount of effort.”
For the first time, Elara appeared genuinely unsettled.
Aizen left the room beside Fenn.
By midnight, Seiren Voss would become part of an official Freedom Association operation.
By morning, Imperial agents would either reveal themselves or die believing they had completed their mission.
Elara believed she had temporarily recruited a suspicious researcher.
Fenn believed he was investigating a man whose history barely existed.
The Empire believed the escaped subject had fled north.
Far beyond Greybank, Rojan continued toward an Imperial outpost, preparing to change the records that would make Seiren Voss real.
Aizen walked through the Association corridor while listening to the movement of officials and adventurers around him.
The first report had been written.
The next step was more important.
He would decide who was permitted to believe it.