The Magisterium’s reception hall was eerily silent as the three of them waited for the secretary to come back.

  Part of Orion wondered whether it would be with more enemies. With no one around to see them, those trying to get at Ophelia would have an easier time, especially if they had infiltrated the city watch and could count on the wards coming to their rescue.

  But the look of sheer surprise on the woman’s face when she heard who Ophelia was told him it wasn’t likely. Whatever being the daughter of the Golden General meant, it had to be significant to trigger such a reaction.

  His gaze shifted across the chamber, trying to find clues. Without mana and still aching from being slammed to the ground, he couldn’t magic secrets from the air like he usually did, but his deductive reasoning was still sharp. He didn’t need spells for this.

  It was already pretty empty earlier, but when Ophelia announced herself, it was like a bomb had gone off. Everyone disappeared, and it’s just been us ever since.

  The girl was tense, waiting with her hands clenched together for something, anything to happen. Her eyes darted toward every moving shadow, as if expecting someone to step out of them, and maybe she wasn’t wrong to do so, considering what he’d seen Unda do.

  On the other hand, his mother had fallen into contemplative silence. The sudden attack by men who should have been on their side had given her much to think about, and Orion suspected she knew more than she let on about Ophelia’s situation.

  He wanted to ask, but he was pretty sure he’d get his answers soon enough. It was just a matter of being patient a little longer.

  Eventually, though, the silence went on too long, and he couldn't help himself. There’s something else I’m curious about.

  “Why did no one bat an eye at Captain Thomson killing one of the guards that attacked us?” He asked. He’d been in too much pain during the incident, but now that he thought about it, the whole situation felt odd.

  Sure, the lieutenant was about to attack him, but the man’s extreme brutality seemed out of place with the peaceful atmosphere hanging over Valderun.

  Maybe it was because he came from a different world, but for a police officer to immediately kill one of his own men felt too sudden.

  Asteria leaned back slightly. “I wasn’t lying when I said that it should have been impossible for us to get attacked. The wards over Valderun are extremely intrusive and wouldn’t be tolerated by any of the factions if there were any way around them.”

  “Ah,” Orion realized where she was heading. For such wards to be allowed, there had to be an understanding that only the watch could use force, and even then, only in the most serious cases.

  That meant anyone caught abusing that power would face the harshest punishment possible, or the overall trust in the watch—and in Valderun as a neutral location— would be destroyed.

  His mother nodded, noticing his realization. “Yes, once it was clear the guards weren’t acting in good faith, there was no other choice but to kill them. Being part of Valderun’s city watch comes with great power, but also with the caveat that any traitor or abuser must be immediately removed. Otherwise, the factions would never allow it to stay the capital, and the magocracy’s stability would be at risk.”

  That whoever was hunting down Ophelia was willing to sacrifice such high-ranking pawns made everything even more confusing.

  Orion could imagine a hundred different ways that having four members of the city watch under their control would greatly benefit any faction.

  From being able to covertly eliminate political rivals to having access to excellent intelligence on one’s enemy. Throwing them away for a single kidnapping meant that the prize was truly beyond words.

  Before Asteria could say more, however, footsteps echoed in the empty hall, and they all turned to see the receptionist hurry toward them, walking fast enough to almost be jogging.

  “The Minister will see you now. Please follow me,” she panted, face flushed and eyes still wide. She was staring at Ophelia with bare interest, yet the girl took it in stride, as if it were expected.

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  They stood and followed her down an empty hallway, which led them to a staircase. They continued walking for several minutes, going higher and higher, until the woman stopped at the top of the fifth staircase.

  “The Minister is waiting for you in the private audience room,” she said once they had joined her, gesturing further ahead, where a lone golden door was slightly ajar, guarded by two men in watch’s livery.

  Orion stiffened upon seeing them, but neither Ophelia nor his mother hesitated to walk toward them, so he hurriedly followed.

  The guards stared ahead, not even acknowledging their presence except for tapping their spears on the ground as they passed, which caused the door to swing open and let them in.

  Inside, a richly furnished room awaited them, with intricate tapestries, delicate vases, and tasteful furniture. Yet, Orion’s attention was immediately drawn to the man sitting on a crimson velvet and mahogany armchair, who regarded them with purple eyes.

  He was old, but not in the way the witches of the Sanctum were—with barely hidden power giving them confidence—nor in the way civilians were—who carried the weight of their years with stooped backs and thinning hair.

  This man had once been mighty, and although the years had drained his strength, he compensated with a different kind of power.

  If Orion had to think of something it reminded him of, he could only recall the time he met the old king of the Gulf State he visited in his past life. He’d barely turned up at the conference, just long enough to take a photo and announce the pledging of several billion dollars to advance nuclear research, yet the entire room had stood still, waiting to see what he would do, as if he held the power of life and death over everyone.

  This man was pretty much the same. No longer in his prime, as shown by the sagging skin and dark circles under his eyes, but Orion didn’t dare dismiss him. Something in his primal brain told him he couldn’t afford to.

  All three froze at his gaze, waiting for judgment to be spoken.

  I’m just now realizing we’re only here based on Ophelia’s word. Since I already know she was lying about her identity, it wouldn't be surprising if she lied about her connection with this man too.

  Looking at the Minister to see if he resembled his supposed granddaughter, Orion couldn’t find anything that stood up to scrutiny. Perhaps their cheekbones, since both had high, aristocratic features, but that could just be a coincidence.

  The man must have found something, however, because he suddenly stood and crossed the room. He moved so fast that Orion had to fight back a flinch, and he noticed his mother’s hands twitch, as if she wanted to reach into her sleeve for her dagger.

  “You look just like him,” he murmured as the illusion that cloaked her fell apart, gently lifting Ophelia’s chin and taking her in as if he were a starving man finding water. “But you’ve got your mother’s stubborn look.”

  For the first time, Ophelia’s expression softened into a smile, and her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, grandpa. Mom told me you’d recognize me.”

  A snort similar to that of a bull escaped the old man, but he didn’t release her. “That ungrateful girl is still making me clean up after her. At least, it seems like you have a good head on your shoulders if you managed to convince a Magistra of the Lunar Sanctum to protect you.”

  His attention shifted to Asteria, as his hand let go of Ophelia’s chin. “I believe I owe you my thanks, witch. You have seen my granddaughter returned to me, even after my daughter and her foolish husband managed to draw the ire of the Dragonlord.”

  “Her enemies made the mistake of attacking the carriage we were traveling in, and we were heading the same way, Minister,” Asteria replied, holding his gaze evenly.

  A huff of amusement escaped him, the first sound he made that didn’t carry that unseen gravitas. “Yes, I imagine they are regretting that now. Usually, high-ranking witches don’t bother traveling by land, so they can be forgiven for that foolish assumption, but I won’t complain. My granddaughter is precious to me, and I’ll see you rewarded for your help.”

  That he had recognized Asteria as a Magistra and still seemed to consider himself her social superior, not out of arrogance but as if it was common sense, told Orion he had underestimated how powerful this man was.

  That he had received them alone, away from aides and servants, had led him to believe the Ministry of Rites was a lesser position, but he was reevaluating that assumption now.

  He shifted, trying to get a better look around the room, but that motion drew the old man’s attention to him, and Orion had intentionally stayed relaxed, as instinctively, he wanted to tense up at the regard.

  “And I suppose this is your son?” He asked, though there was something curious in his eyes.

  Asteria nodded, smiling softly, “Indeed. My Orion has been a great help in getting here safely.”

  After a brief silence, where Orion felt almost dissected by those piercing purple eyes, the minister finally broke the quiet with a hum of understanding. “Antares,” he said, and just hearing that name caused the atmosphere to turn frozen cold.

  Asteria tensed, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light, while Ophelia gasped, clearly understanding who the man was referring to. Orion himself didn’t particularly care, other than that his appearance was apparently enough for people to immediately recognize him as his father’s get.

  After a tense moment, Ophelia unfroze and quickly stepped in before things could escalate. “Grandfather, we have a lot to discuss. Perhaps we can release the Voidwalkers. I’m sure the Magistra will want to get to the Sanctum’s embassy after everything that happened.”

  The Minister held Asteria’s gaze for a long moment before he inclined his head, as if acknowledging that Orion’s father was a taboo topic. He then turned to Ophelia and nodded in her direction. “Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. I will send an invitation to the manse in the next few days, as we still have much to discuss, but feel free to go now. I will take care of my granddaughter.”

  Orion hesitated. It felt like an anticlimactic end to a struggle-filled journey, just handing off Ophelia this way, but there was clearly more going on beneath the surface, and he wanted to speak with his mother privately before any further talks with the minister.

  Asteria seemingly agreed, as she placed a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder, squeezed it, and then turned around. “We will see each other then,” she said, and Orion followed her, fighting the urge to look back as he felt both Ophelia and her grandfather’s eyes on him.

  Having left the Magisterium behind, Orion and his mother were walking down a wide road that led to the northern districts of Valderun, where the embassy was apparently located.

  There was a smaller crowd here, with shops mostly catering to nobles and government officials, as evidenced by the luxurious items on display and the overall wealthy vibe of the customers.

  Orion couldn’t help but watch closely as members of the watch passed by, unable to relax until they were gone. The sensation of being slammed against the marble by an overwhelming force he couldn’t hope to resist, of being pinned and helpless as his blood drained from him, was not one he would forget anytime soon.

  However, he didn’t have the luxury of wallowing, as a large building appeared in the distance, enclosed by marble walls embedded with silverite, reminiscent of the Sanctum’s style.

  They had arrived.

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