6. Chapter Six

I woke abruptly to three sharp raps at my door. Blinking slowly and still disoriented, I realized that I had fallen asleep at my desk for something like the third time this week, poring over the latest reports after my early morning indulgence. Sometimes even the best distractions weren’t quite enough.

While the Jerricks case was the first kidnapping we’d seen in Sophrosyne proper for the last fifty years, the other territories had been experiencing an alarming uptick in similar crimes. Always children or teens. Always relatives of people in power—noblemen, merchants, or even Atlassian Court leadership. And they were always Conduits.

If it were simply a matter of missing Conduits, the answer would be painfully obvious: blood cultists. There were still a number of them left in Atlas, convinced that they could unlock the power of the gods if they consumed enough aether directly from the blood of a Conduit, or even a Resonant human. It wasn’t common knowledge, for obvious reasons, but sometimes their reckless experiments even worked… but only for a moment. The fleeting power gained was always of little consequence, as they died quickly, and they died screaming.

The next series of raps at my door became louder, more insistent—and I recognized the cadence immediately.

Shit.

“Vistarii! I know you’re in there. Get your ass up.”

I groaned as I rose from the chair and made my way across the room, opening the door to a very disgruntled looking superior officer.

“Morning, Commander Ka!” I offered cheerily, with what I hoped would be a disarming smile.

“What have I told you about sleeping here, Kieran? It’s your day off, for fucks sake.”

“I know, I know. In my defense, I hadn’t planned on falling asleep here, we just had a long night with the suspect last night and—”

“I’m electing to ignore that,” the commander said, his eyes flickering from my face to the blood spattered sleeves of my coat.

“Then, by the time I wrapped up a few other dalliances, there were more reports to review…”

Hanjae Ka scowled and then sighed heavily—clearly he was already over my shit.

“Anything of note?” Hanjae inquired. Loath as he was to admit it, my commander was an enabler of bad habits when it suited his own needs.

“Two missing in Samhaven. One in Ithreac. No signs, no calling cards, no ransom demands. All we’ve really managed to gather so far is that they seem to be targeting particularly talented Conduits, or precocious Resonants. The last two taken were Shadow Conduits as well, and Markus and Theia have expressed serious concerns over the security of the Astral amp; Umbral Isles the next time Theia makes her way to Sophrosyne.”

“They can get in line. Vindyrst is breathing down our fucking necks about the Jerricks boy, and the rest of the Atlassian Courts seem to be waiting on the Elders to come step in and solve this for them,” Hanjae groused.

I sighed. While that wasn’t exactly our problem as the Elder Guard, it was still a frustrating expectation. The Elders made their stance on intervening with mortals quite clear. We, the mortal guardsmen, served the city-state of Sophrosyne, the Arcane Studium, and the Nineteen, and yet the entire continent of Atlas had a tendency to rely on us for strategy and matters of collective regional security.

“We’ve also received word that the first Light Conduit in the last twenty years just got accepted into the Studium.”

A Light Conduit? Holy Hel.

“Yes,” Hanjae confirmed, reading my expression. “It’s a big deal, and the Elders have requested that we keep a close eye on things now that she’s arrived. She and the Makar girl could easily become the next targets, so keep your men vigilant. Keep looking. Acquire your information by any means necessary, within reason, but Kieran?”

“Yeah?”

“Get started on the rest of that tomorrow.”

“I’m fine, Hanjae.”

“Commander Ka,” he corrected, narrowing his eyes. I resisted the urge to roll my own. Hanjae only ever pulled rank on me when he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“And I don’t give a shit how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed you’re feeling this morning after your dalliances, Captain. Go home. Take a damn bath. And wash that fucking coat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Though I swore up and down to Commander Ka that I’d go straight home and rest, that had been a bold-faced lie. Though to be fair, he probably knew it.

On paper, my title in the Elder Guard was the Captain of Scouting and Reconnaissance. In practice, I was more like their spymaster—and I had several informants to meet with and pay off on my way back to the townhouse.

I withdrew a small fortune’s worth of Lyra from our coffers before leaving headquarters and made my way over to the Merchant’s Quarter with heavy pockets, paying no mind to the way they’d jingle every now and again when the pouches jostled. Though I could have easily slipped into the Shadows and remained unseen, I kept my stroll casual and enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun. I would be so lucky to encounter a thief with the balls to fuck around and find out. Let them make my day.

Alas, Sophrosyne was indeed home to some of the best and brightest minds in the realm, none of them stupid enough to attempt robbery against an armed guardsman. As such, my walk remained rather uneventful until I rolled up to my first stop: Duncan Falk, a butcher with connections to the Pyrhhan Black Market.

Yes, even the region of Pyrhhas, shining star of the Atlassian Courts, had its own seedy underbelly—and Falk was in bed with some of their key players.

“Falk,” I greeted the heavyset man whose bald head had already begun to glisten as the cool air of morning gave way to the warmth of early afternoon sun.

“Ay, Vistarii. I have your order in the back, come, come.”

Falk nodded to his apprentice before leading me away from his stall in the open-air market, back towards the small shop where we typically did business. It was a slow afternoon, so he locked the door behind us for privacy without hesitation.

“Listen, boss, imma cut to the quick with ya. I know yer men have been looking into that Jerricks boy, yeah? An’ I put out feelers, but no bites. Somethin’ has most of my people skittish these days, but no one’s talkin’.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I murmured.

“And uhh, respectfully, sir, I’m not sure if ya really helped matters by lettin’ Corvus go. Not sure what y’all did to the man, but uhh, he’s all sorts of banged up in the head now…”

I raised a brow.

“Yeah. Well. You know. Folks are gonna be spooked.”

I nodded. “That’s to be expected, I suppose. As things settle down, though, I’d like for you to keep putting those feelers out. Flesh trade, blood cults… I’m looking for people who are explicitly interested in Conduits. If you catch wind of buyers, I want to know immediately.”

“Yessir, you got it.”

I withdrew two pouches of Lyra and tossed them his way. The man gave me a quizzical look, as I’d just tossed him double what I typically paid him for information.

“For this week, and consider the rest an advance for your swift call the next time you catch wind of anything. You know how to reach me.”

“Aye, Captain. Always a pleasure.”

I wasn’t sure I’d call it that, but I didn’t mind working with the butcher. Despite his harrowing appearance as a massive man, often found in bloodstained clothes and wielding a meat-cleaver, he was actually fairly harmless. His connection to the Black Market was purely circumstantial—his father was the criminal who built those relationships, and when he died, he’d passed them down to the “next in line,” hoping that Duncan might one day follow in his nefarious footsteps.

Alas, as far as my background research could tell, the worst crime Duncan Falk had ever personally committed was coming up short on his taxes.

After I wrapped things up with Falk, I made my way over to a nearby tavern where a familiar buxom, raven-haired woman was tending to the bar. As I entered, the woman narrowed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. She was in her late thirties, maybe early forties at most—and vivacious as ever.

“And just who do you think you are, strolling in here like you own the damn place? We don’t offer discounts to men in uniform, you know—we charge them extra.”

“You’re looking rather stunning today, Roshana. Is that a new dress, or do you just make everything look that good? Oh, and hello to you, too.”

As per usual, she cracked under the compliments and dropped the act.

“Hey there, handsome. You want the usual?”

“Please,” I answered with a smile.

My “usual” here was whatever Roshana had on deck as this week’s lunch special, often delivered with a fat stack of intercepted missives and stolen notes from her little songbirds. Roshana’s tavern doubled as a pleasure den for those with deep connections and even deeper pockets. It wasn’t as if sex work was illegal in Sophrosyne, but it was so heavily regulated and taxed in the city that it was… hard to come by, to say the least. In the grand scheme of things, that was probably for the best, given the amount of minors who lived on campus at the Studium.

Within minutes, Roshana slid a plate of sausages, boiled cabbage, and potatoes in front of me, alongside a healthy helping of the barmaid’s cleavage and a few scraps of parchment.

“Afraid I don’t have much else for you, K. You’re back so soon. Miss me, did you?”

“Always do,” I purred, plucking an envelope that I knew Roshana had intentionally left in her bosom. That woman was insatiable.

“Can I get you anything else? Ale, whiskey, cider? Another round between the sheets?”

“Nah,” I replied. “Tempting as that may be, I can’t stay much longer, Ro. A bit tied up today.”

“Mmm, I do like that in a man,” she replied, her smoky voice thick with innuendo. “Are you sure you can’t come back to see me this evening? You know I’ll make it worth your while, Captain.”

“Afraid not, beautiful. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other hearts to break.”

“A bold claim coming from you, Vistarii,” she laughed. “But you know, the new girl, Sadie—you might like a tangle or two with that one if you’re craving fresh blood. I’ll even give you a discount.”

As the barmaid waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively, I tried not to grimace. While I held the courtesans of Sophrosyne with the utmost regard, I never quite understood the appeal of paying for sex. It was probably an ego thing. I wanted my sexual partners to want my cock more than my Lyra.

“Tsk. Roshana, Roshana. You know me better than that. If I want fresh blood, I’ll go on the hunt for it myself.”

I tossed her a wicked grin and a wink before brushing off my thighs and leaving a handful of extra Lyra on the counter for my meal. I tried not to wince as I stood—my lower back was absolutely killing me.

I really needed to stop falling asleep at that damned desk.