Capital Chaos

At 7 a.m., a young woman approached Room 312 of Seven Tower. The door was ajar—it opened silently with a nudge of her knee.

"Of course," Sofie muttered.

Cane had managed to remove his boots and shirt before collapsing face-down on his bed, one arm curled around a wrapped bundle of swords like a child clutching a favorite toy.

She set the tray down on his desk, then gently peeled the bundle from his grasp. Cane's eyes cracked open as her fingers lifted the cloth.

"Morning…" he croaked. "Did you even sleep?"

"A bit." He sat up slowly, rubbing the grit from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Seven. Professor Brammel asked me to check on you—said you were probably burning the night oil."

Cane blinked, then smiled as she lifted the lid of the tray: bacon, eggs, cheese danish, and fresh biscuits.

"Today's your day off… Now I feel bad."

Sofie sat down beside him on the bed. "Bad enough to not eat?"

Cane shook his head. "No. Not that bad. There are levels, you know."

She grinned, pulling a small ceramic tile from her satchel. "I was asked to pass this along."

Cane took it and blinked at the tiny lettering. "Property sheet?"

Sofie nodded. "You eat while I fill it out."

Cane gave her a thumbs-up and dug into the eggs.

"All right," she began. "Category of item being auctioned?"

"Sword," Cane mumbled through a mouthful.

"Okay… For swords, they want base metal and alloy, if applicable."

"Base metals are cobalt and silver. Alloy is Salt."

Sofie paused, looking up. "Did you say Salt?"

Cane nodded proudly. "As the discoverer of a new alloy, the task of naming it falls to me."

"Your naming sense…" she muttered, trying not to smile.

"Anything else?" Cane asked, polishing off the danish and reaching for the biscuit.

"Rating," Sofie said, scanning the form. "Choices are: Common, Premium, Epic, and Above Epic."

"Above," Cane said without hesitation.

"There's a note here… Items listed 'Above Epic' will be evaluated and priced by Auction House staff."

Cane shrugged. "Sounds good."

Sofie continued, "Name and occupation of contributors?"

"Jonas Ironfist, Blacksmith. Cane Ironheart, Artificer."

She finished scribing and handed him the tile to review.

Category: Weapon/Sword

Base Materials: Silver / Cobalt

Alloy: Salt

Rating: Above Epic

Contributors: Jonas Ironfist, Blacksmith; Cane Ironheart, Artificer

"Looks official," Cane said, popping the last bite of biscuit into his mouth.

Sofie stood, brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirt. "Go wash up. You smell like sweat and magical alloy."

"Best scent in the world," Cane called after her as she left, grinning.

Cane grabbed a towel and a clean robe while Sofie gathered the food tray.

"Thanks for coming in on your day off," he said.

Sofie waved it off. "It was no trouble." She leaned closer and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Oh… so I shouldn't buy you something at the capital?"

Sofie bit her lip, eyes dancing. "Maybe it was a little trouble."

Cane laughed, walking her to the door before heading to the showers.

By 7:45 a.m., Fergis appeared in Cane's doorway just as he finished lacing up his boots. He was freshly showered, wearing a clean robe with his sword bundle at his side and a coin pouch holding exactly one hundred platinum.

He could have brought more, but knew himself too well—too much coin meant too much temptation to buy things he didn't need.

"You look a bit tired," Fergis said, eyeing him.

"Not too bad," Cane replied, standing. "Let's get going."

Just as they turned for the door, Cane's room rune chimed.

He traced it with a finger. "Yes?"

"Just wanted to say I hope you have a great day."

Cane grinned at the sound of Sofie's voice. "Thanks. I should get going. Hope you have a great day too."

"Seven and four," she added playfully.

Cane blinked, glancing at Fergis, who shrugged.

"What's seven and four?"

"Shoe size seven. Dress size four."

"Noted," Cane chuckled, deactivating the rune. He slung the sword bundle over his back and stepped into the hallway, still smiling.

The door to Telamon's office stood open when they arrived. Inside, Professor Brammel looked up from a stack of rune-etched tiles and waved them in.

"Got the property card?"

Cane nodded and handed it over—the one Sofie had helped him fill out that morning.

Brammel scanned it quickly. "Good… good… Salt?" He laughed, a deep, delighted sound. "You've got great naming sense. I swear, you must be part dwarf."

"No doubt," Fergis muttered, rolling his eyes.

Just then, a small rift opened with a soft hum. A hovering platform drifted out of it, glowing faintly at the edges, and Telamon followed close behind.

"You can place the bundle with the rest," the Archmage instructed. "Tuck the property card in the wrapping."

Cane nodded, stepping over to the platform. He laid the bundle down carefully between a glass sphere filled with molten gold and a caged reptile, no larger than a man's hand, its body coiled and flickering with heat.

"If you're planning to bid," Telamon said, "you'll need to deposit your full amount into escrow. I'll accept it now."

Cane handed over his coin pouch. "One hundred platinum."

Fergis followed suit. "Twenty platinum."

"All set, then," Telamon said. He tapped his staff once on the floor, and a glowing rune doorway materialized in the wall behind him.

"Follow me."

A distinguished-looking man clad in blue stepped onto the platform inside the auction house. His short white hair was immaculately combed, and his clean-shaven face bore the calm, effortless confidence of power.

Two sleepy-looking porters blinked, then immediately straightened, recognizing the most powerful figure in the realm. They rushed to assist him without needing to be asked.

Brammel handed out a small badge. "Take your badge, and don't lose it," he said before glancing at Fergis. "You been here before?"

Fergis nodded. "Many times."

"Fine then." Brammel motioned casually. "I'll leave Cane in your hands. Show him around."

Cane watched as Telamon and Brammel followed an elderly man up a wide marble staircase.

"Amazing," Cane murmured, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.

Towering white pillars rose from a vast expanse of polished floor—easily large enough to house a small village. Overhead, the lofted ceiling was covered in expansive murals depicting heroic scenes from both ancient history and what appeared to be current events. One of the blank ten-meter panels was being painted even now by a team of robed artists on floating scaffolds.

All around them, Lords and Ladies mingled in finery—lace, embroidered silks, tailored cloaks. Cane found none of it practical or appealing.

"Tell me you don't dress like this at home," he muttered, gesturing discreetly toward a woman whose feathered headdress looked like she'd trapped a live bird on her head.

"Nope," Fergis said without missing a beat. "My style doesn't blend well with this crowd." He grabbed Cane's arm, pulling him toward a set of display cases still being arranged by staff in crisp black uniforms.

"Tell me what I'm looking at," Cane said, examining the small black badge Brammel had given him.

Cane Ironheart

Magi Academy Artificer

874889

"The first two lines are self-explanatory," Fergis said. "The number is your bidder ID—it's tied to the deposit you made. Everything you bid will draw from it automatically."

Cane nodded and followed him to a nearby display case.

"I see two sets of numbers," he said, leaning closer.

"Right," Fergis replied. "The first is the starting bid. The second is the buyout price. But once bidding starts, the buyout becomes null."

"So… is it smarter to wait or buy outright?"

"Depends," Fergis shrugged. "If it's a hot item, bidding might blow past the buyout. But if no one wants it? You could snag something for half price."

Cane nodded, eyes already moving across the shelves, wondering how many of these items had stories like his.

"I should get Sofie something," Cane said, glancing around the grand hall, completely bewildered. "Like a dress. Or shoes."

"Fourth floor," Fergis replied, grinning.

Cane narrowed his eyes. "You got something snarky to say?"

"Nah," Fergis shook his head. "You two are well suited. Like milk and cookies."

"Like iron and fire," Cane offered.

"That's... no. Let me handle the analogies from now on, yeah?"

"What the hell does that even mean—iron and fire—?"

Cane stopped short at the sound of deep, throaty growling.

Two men were pushing a large, reinforced cage across the marble floor. Inside, a dangerous-looking feline paced restlessly—its sleek fur constantly shifting colors like oil on water.

"Macaio Cat," Fergis said casually.

Cane gave a low whistle. "Rift-bender species," he murmured. "That thing can open small portals."

He leaned in, watching as the cat's fur shimmered from smoky grey to blood red and back again. "How are they keeping it caged?"

"Runic collar," Fergis replied.

"Why buy it?" Cane asked, staring into the cat's amber eyes. There was wildness there. Pride. It was already full-grown—untamable.

"It has a Grade-9 Shadow Core."

Cane froze. "They're going to kill it for the core?"

Fergis nodded. "Doesn't that happen all the time? Wouldn't you or I do the same thing?"

Cane shrugged. "Maybe. But somehow… this feels different."

"How so?"

"In the wild," Cane said slowly, "there are no guarantees. You hunt something, it might win. Might escape. But this? Killing something in a cage? That's not hunting. That's execution."

Fergis was quiet for a beat, then slung an arm around Cane's shoulders with a smirk.

"You're growing up."

"Who's your friend, Fergis?"

An impossibly smug voice spoke from behind them, the pair turned as a heavy-set blond-haired young man with a wanna-be mustache approached, he was flanked by two others, obviously what passed for muscle among the rich and entitled.

"Lyon," Fergis said the word with a sour face. 

Cane raised an eyebrow, the tone anything but friendly and for some reason Fergis was showing more restraint than usual.

Fergis noticed the look. "Attacking with magic in the auction house will lead to a ban, not just for you but also your sponsor."

Cane's face show his doubt. "Someone is going to ban Telamon?"

Cane shook his head. "My parents are my sponsor, they would lose their membership if I fried them which is why they are acting so tough.

"I see," Cane fixed the three with an indifferent look, unimpressed with their antics.

"How's your sister? I hear she has blossomed into a lovely little flower." Lyon's face held a smirk that begged to be burned off. 

"What if I um… rough him up a bit?" Cane felt his friend's pain, he was itching to singe all three of them."

"You mean fight them?" Fergis asked. "Well the auction doesn't have rules about that but I wouldn't recommend it. Those three are known for being heavy handed."

Cane cracked his knuckles playfully. "I see."

Fergis stared in disbelief at the carnage.

Cane had punched, kneed, punted, and—let's not forget—body-slammed the three miscreants. All within about thirty seconds.

Grabbing Cane's arm, Fergis broke into a dead run toward the nearest floor rune, laughing like a madman.

"Run, you idiot!"

Unfazed, Cane followed. "Why are we running?"

"Strictly speaking, you won't get banned for fighting," Fergis panted. "But you will get arrested by the city guard."

Cane cursed and put on a burst of speed, quickly overtaking him. "That's something you should've led with!"

"I'm bad with details," Fergis admitted, still wheezing with laughter.

They raced down hallways, bouncing between floors using rune platforms, darting past porters and aristocrats, until even Cane had no idea where they were. Eventually, they skidded to a stop near the edge of a long banquet table.

Fergis bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air—mostly because he hadn't stopped laughing.

"You punched that guy right in the nose," he said between breaths. "On behalf of my entire family, I offer heartfelt thanks."

"That gonna keep me from getting arrested?"

"Not at all," Fergis grinned.

"Great. Where are we anyway?"

Fergis looked around, baffled. "No idea."

"Who are you?"

Both Cane and Fergis turned at the voice—and froze.

A man and woman stood before them, both immaculately dressed, looking like they'd stepped straight out of a royal portrait. The man wore a silver crown.

"I'm Cane," he said quickly, instinct taking over. "Student at the Magi Academy. Somehow I got turned around while fleeing the auction house."

Fergis groaned. "Too much information, Cane…"

"Why were you fleeing the auction house?" the man asked.

"I… beat up a few people," Cane admitted.

"Great," Fergis muttered. "Now I'm getting arrested too."

The woman laughed, eyes glinting. "You a ruffian?"

"An artificer, actually."

Recognition flashed across the man's face. "Cane the artificer? You developed the Interwoven Adamantium Frost Robes?"

Cane nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. Bit of a mouthful. I've been thinking about shortening it to Adfar. Or maybe Iraf?"

The man laughed warmly. "Well met, Cane. I'm Duke Kerolinis, and this is my sister, Lady Terani."

Cane gave a half-bow, suddenly very aware that he'd just fled a brawl and nearly crashed into nobility. "This is my friend, Fergis."

Then—movement.

It might have gone unnoticed, but as the Duke stepped into the light of the grand window behind him, something in the shimmer of sunlight caught Cane's eye.

His instincts screamed.

"GET DOWN!" Cane shouted, already moving, legs acting before his mind caught up.

"BALEFIRE!" Fergis yelled, spotting the figure at the same time.

His hands blazed as he launched his most powerful spell. A white-hot lance of flame erupted from his palms.

The Duke moved in a flash, throwing his sister to the floor and shielding her with his own body.

The assassin took the full brunt of the spell—white fire slamming into him and knocking him backward. But even as he staggered, several mythic-grade runes flared across his cloak, shielding him from being fully incinerated.

The assassin's cloaking enchantments were failing, unraveling from overload.

Cane reached him an instant later. His boot swung up in a rising arc and slammed into the man's chest, sending him crashing through the window in an explosion of glass and splintered wood.

Dozens of guards stormed in from both side doors.

Cane and Fergis—wisely—did not resist.

While the Duke and Lady Terani were whisked away in one direction under tight protection, the boys were pulled in another, surrounded on all sides.

They were marched to a large, stone-lined room and pushed inside. The door shut behind them with an eerie metallic clunk—unnaturally loud in the silence.

Cane looked around, shrugged. "Oops."

Fergis sat stiffly, wide-eyed. "My family is going to disown me…"

He paused. "Not a horrible thing, mind you. But I'm quite close to my sister."

"Hey, we saved the Duke and his sister," Cane offered.

Fergis shrugged. "Depends on your perspective."

"What does that mean?"

"Well… someone else might say we were the distraction."

"You make no sense."

"I know… I'm rambling." Fergis wiped a hand down his face. "Honestly, I feel bad for you."

Cane raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You're the one who broke the window. That stained glass? Easily twenty thousand platinum."

"Please." Cane waved a hand. "Clearly the window cracked when your one-and-done spell blasted the cloaked guy through it."

"Whoa—you're trying to pin that on me?"

Cane shrugged. "How about halfsies? I might be able to repay ten thousand… if I lived a really long time."

"I suppose," Fergis muttered, slumping back into the chair. His face had gone pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…" Fergis nodded slowly. "Balefire saps me when I have time to build it up. Firing it off on the cuff like that?" He exhaled. "I'm still seeing stars."

"Well," Cane said, leaning back against the stone wall, "you looked pretty damn heroic."

Fergis gave a weak smile and nodded. "So did you."