Of course Severa Montreal would lead the conversation with politics.

After a few seconds, this was what she had to say to him, "Have you heard about Leader Muradius' new legislative package that he's trying to pass through Congress?"

Ah yes, Leader Muradius. The leader of the people, the one who he'd never seen outside of the hundreds of murals of him plastered across the Synod walls.

"I have not. But he's the leader of the Order, not the King of Raslan. Why can he pass packages through Congress?"

Severa huffed, one of those sharp, breathy little exhalations that suggested she genuinely could not believe the level of ignorance she was dealing with. "Kestovar, the Order functions as a mini-state inside the kingdom," she said. "They have their own internal Congress, their own budget, their own regulatory councils. Leader Muradius doesn't need Raslan's monarch for anything short of a declaration of war."

"Okay, then . . ." He wasn't going to argue. This was probably something he should've known. "Then can't Muradius just issue a directive?"

Severa let out a sound that sounded like a choke. "'A directive', he said." She stopped for another few seconds, noting that Fabrisse offered no visible reaction, then continued, "He was essentially able to before, when Congress was stacked with yes-men. Times have changed," Severa continued. "Essentially, he intends to ban all public use of artifacts and all independent artifact research by law, which would place every remaining artifact under direct state control. A monopoly, if you will. There's much resistance both from inside Congress as well as outside. You might have realized artifacts are not as unpopular as the official narrative makes it out to be."

It was funny how the supposedly all-powerful leader got blocked by a bunch of politicians.

"But doesn't Draeth conduct all his research in secret anyway?" He asked. "Even if it's banned, he'll just keep doing it."

Severa shook her head disdainfully. "He evades scrutiny only because he violates no statute. There is—much to their irritation—nothing they can lawfully charge him with. But should Muradius succeed, they will finally possess the legal pretext they've been waiting for."

"So they're trying to arrest him lawfully."

"Possibly."

"And how does this concern you?"

Severa stayed silent for a moment then said, "Draeth is the biggest dungeoneering patron in all of Westris. If they monopolize artifacts, they're essentially outlawing dungeoneering as well. With everything that is happening inside these . . . voidtouched monstrosities, I suspect there's an even more sinister reason why they want to monopolize dungeons. Which brings us back to this very dungeon we're in."

"Speaking of which . . . You still haven't told me how the Voidtouched things are related to all of this."

"The Void is foreign magic, Kestovar."

"What do you mean?"

"It's literally brought here by foreigners. My past mentor, Affar Rubidi, was a foreigner from the Kingdom of Raza, and you have seen the High Instructant she'd brought alongside her."

"The man with the blackened irises?" And also the supposed ringleader behind the plots to kidnap him.

"Yes. He's also a foreigner. We believe Muradius is using foreigners to quell all dissent within his own borders, which is a foolish undertaking if you ask me. Especially now that they're opening all sorts of bizarre dungeons . . . But nobody seems to know about the origin of these dungeons, and we are still looking for tangible proof. In the meantime, many high-profile dungeon patrons have been accused of using 'forbidden' magic to harm their dungeoneers, leading to their arrest."

Fabrisse chewed on her words. Foreign magic → Foreigners opening dungeons → Muradius wanting a legal excuse to seize all artifacts and arrest their patrons → arrests. It all seemed rather logical, at least as logical as it could be for something he couldn't care less about. Yet, this concerned his own safety and that of Liene and Tom, so he forced himself to comprehend.

"You're saying this is a power move to arrest Draeth or something?" He asked.

"Possibly. And, rather conveniently, the Headmaster is absent from the Synod at present. They'll fabricate something; I am sure of it. Perhaps they'll even attempt to link the emergence of these wicked dungeons to Draeth's discreet artifact research."

"But nobody knows Draeth's researching artifacts."

"People know. They just haven't made a public accusation yet."

"I don't see any foreigners in the Synod anymore. Do you know who's manufacturing this accusation, then?"

"Not yet. But if they're willing to provoke a laceration event this close to the Synod, I rather suspect the accusation will follow immediately after."

The structure of the argument she had handed him did make sense, especially given the information he'd heard in the cave the other day. A tidy little logic loop, awful in its tidiness. He debated throwing the names of the Von Silberthal and the Margenholt out for a second, but then he'd thought about how Anabeth was a nice person and how simply associating her with this conspiracy could transform her from 'nice person' to 'potential suspect', especially when she'd pleaded to clear her family name. And that was the last thing he wanted to be responsible for.

Severa's gaze drifted down to her fingers as they brushed against the fine silken wrapping she'd carried with her. She'd been fidgeting, a small, tremulous fidget that was entirely at odds with her usual composure. "That," she said quietly, "is the extent they'd go to in order to eliminate us." Her voice wavered just enough to give away her fatigue. "Knowing all that, do you regret having bonded with the Eidralith?"

"It wasn't something I could control," he replied.

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She nodded once. "I could still take it away from you," she said. "If that is your desire. I still believe the artifact would be . . . better kept by someone capable of bearing the consequences. Someone less fragile."

Her pronunciation of fragile had that faint, aristocratic lilt—an upper-crest delicacy that made the word sound like a diagnosis rather than an insult. Last time she'd said such a thing, bile had risen in his throat. This time, he only registered the exhaustion in her voice, the strain behind it. But the timing was still suspicious, too close to the political puzzle she had just laid out, too neatly adjacent to her reasons.

He couldn't tell where sincerity ended and ambition began with her. Maybe there was no border.

He simply said, "No."

She looked at him for another few seconds, then said, "Very well." Then she slipped her hand into the folds of her satchel and drew out another object wrapped in the same immaculate silk. The fabric made a faint whisper as she unwrapped it, revealing a dark metal ring cradled in her palm, veined with a pale violet sheen.

"You shouldn't have been in this dungeon; that was my oversight. Now you are here, however, you'd need more protection," she said. "You possess some unexpectedly good Stealth skills. This would complement them. Considerably."

She extended it toward him. He hesitated before taking it.

The moment he did, another apparition appeared.

[ARTIFACT IDENTIFIED: CIRCUIT OF THE VEILED PRINCE]

Classification: Legendary

Status: Partial Lock – Soulbond Detected

Soulbounded to: Forsing Montreal

Primary Matrix Access: Restricted

WARNING: Most locked abilities cannot be viewed under current authorization tier.

Visible Abilities:

Boost range & reduce noise of all Stealth-based spells by 100%

Increase progression of Stealth-based spells by 100%

Unlock Innate Stealth-based Tree — (LOCKED — Soulbounded to Forsing Montreal)

This is too good. But . . .

"This belongs to someone else." He stared at it.

"What did the apparition show you?" Severa asked.

"Your brother, Forsing—" The second half of the sentence got stuck in his throat. He hadn't said anything about an apparition. Not to her. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I didn't. I simply guessed." She smiled. There was a quiet triumph in her smile that was impossible to wipe off her face, even if you scraped the whole expression clean. "I see apparitions too, Kestovar."

They stayed silent for the longest time, not knowing what to do with that information. Of all the things to bond over with Severa Montreal, it had to be system overlays.

"Why are you giving me this, then, if it belongs to your brother?"

She looked at him weirdly, as if she'd locked the rest of the thoughts away and only left the one she intended for him to see. He'd never seen that look on her face before. When she finally spoke, it sounded measured and even once again, "My brother is temporarily . . . unavailable. I want someone I am at least familiar with to keep it. You saw what it can do for you."

He didn't answer. He just slid it on.

The notification intruded instantly.

[INVENTORY FULL]

[SYSTEM NOTE: Object cannot be registered. Please remove one of your Common-grade rocks or relocate them to the Aetherrealm.]

He dismissed it.

Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary as she wore the smallest smile on her mouth. "Now you're my responsibility," she said.

Haven't you been treating me like that the entire time?

The thought sat in his mind with an odd weight. He'd always assumed her involvement in his progression was just Severa being Severa. A constant stream of unsolicited optimization notes delivered with the same tone one might use to discuss the weather. It was overbearing, yes, but seldom actually harmful. So if she called him her responsibility, that wasn't new. It was only the first time she'd put language to the thing she'd already been doing.

That isn't a bad thing, he decided.

Severa Montreal wasn't a bad person. She was still scary, but as long as her anger wasn't directed at him . . . he could use the help. Although he didn't know how he'd feel about meeting her standards.

[QUEST ONGOING: Charm Offensive—Time Remaining: 42 minutes]

Then she suddenly closed her eyes and brought a hand to her temple. "Hold."

He stayed silent for another second, not daring to interrupt whatever mental voodoo she was doing.

Finally, she said, "There is a disturbance in the aetheric field. The creatures are stirring. Possibly . . . your friend Ardefiamme is nearby."

Without another word, she got to her feet. Fabrisse fell into step behind her, taking care not to make a sound. As she walked, her voice continued in a cadence that was both self-directed and declarative, "Keep close, Kestovar. I will ensure your safety. I will ensure our collective safety. That is my responsibility."

She made things sound way too dramatic, but Fabrisse found himself absorbing it differently than usual. Her tone was the same, yet this time it was no longer grating. It spoke of someone committed, at least.

Then the Eidralith gave him another quest.

[QUEST RECEIVED: Defender of the Mind]

Objective: Parry or deflect an attack toward your ally, Severa Montreal.

Reward: Emotional Purity (Rank I Passive Concordance Skill) — Amplify any spell's power, range, accuracy, and speed by 30% if the intended emotion's output was over 0.9 (see Emotional Vector Observation).

What? Really? His mind tried to process the sheer audacity of the Eidralith. Me? Parrying? What part of 'she will protect me' don't you get?

Of course, it had to be right now, of all moments.

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