Radiant

"Cane!"

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

Nina stood near the estate gate, dressed in snug brown leather leggings and a sleeveless tunic that made her look more like a trail scout than a ranking member of the Olivara Auction House. She didn't hesitate—just stepped forward and embraced him warmly.

Her dark cheeks flushed as she pulled back. "Sorry. Was that too forward?"

"Not at all," another voice answered before Cane could.

Sophie had appeared from nowhere, her hand slipping easily into Cane's. She gave Nina a calm, sweet smile—and a subtle squeeze of Cane's hand.

Cane smiled too, eyes still on Nina. "I've got something to add to today's auction." He held out the serpent bracer.

Nina's expression lit up as she took it. She turned the piece over in her hands, admiring the sheen, the detailing, the coiled intent hidden within the elegant form. "This is beautiful. Is it decorative?"

"Not entirely," Cane said. "It has a strong defensive enchantment built in."

He glanced toward the gleaming black-and-silver coach waiting at the gate. "That ours?"

Nina nodded. "Yes. If you'll fill out this property sheet, I'll submit the bracer for evaluation as soon as we arrive."

Cane accepted the parchment and began to write.

Property Sheet

Category: Armor / Bracer

Base Materials: Zirconium / Nickel

Additional Materials: Copper / Platinum

Alloy: Nonium

Rating: Above Epic

Contributors: Cane Ironheart, Artificer

Nina read the finished sheet and raised an eyebrow when she saw the rating.

"Above Epic, huh? Confident today?"

"Always," Cane replied with a shrug and a faint grin.

Nina tucked the sheet away. "Then I'll match your confidence with my own. May I suggest Ashanti accompany you as your assistant today? She's new and could benefit from some experience."

Cane caught the meaning—Nina was no longer working the floor. She'd been promoted.

"That's fine," he said. "If she's your pick, I'm sure she'll impress."

Nina smiled, pleased. "You won't be disappointed."

The coach supplied by the Olivara Auction House was easily the most luxurious Cane had ever ridden in. It glided over the cobbled roads without a single jolt. The wheels were fitted with a material that dampened shock—he couldn't even hear the stones underfoot.

He sat comfortably, eyes closed, arms crossed loosely.

Nina glanced over from her seat.

"You falling asleep on us, Cane?"

He cracked an eye open. "Just thinking."

She nodded, giving him space.

His thoughts had already drifted past the auction, past the bracer and the city… to what came next.

He had one week.

One week before the knighting ceremony. One week before he and Mori left for the Eastern front. The plan was still intact. The military rift would take them to the contested zone. From there, the forgotten dead of Hybacus would be brought home.

Cane stared out the window as the coach rolled on, his reflection staring back—quiet, composed, and already somewhere else.

"The builders and materials for another house are at your disposal."

Nina's voice pulled Cane from his thoughts.

"I just mentioned that to Relen earlier."

She flashed a bright smile. "Of course, and he relayed it to me. When would you like them to arrive?"

Cane considered. "Right after the auction. Include three months of camping supplies—food, water, whatever they'll need to build in a remote location."

"Very mysterious," Nina said, her fingers brushing the psi-rune behind her ear as she whispered into the link.

The Olivara Auction House was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. After exiting the coach, Cane kept hold of Sophie's hand, weaving through the dense crowd behind Nina.

She paused near a glass display case. Cane's Folly rested inside, its starmetal tip catching the light, still exuding the silent pressure of legend. Two guards flanked the case, standing rigid despite the excited murmurs of the onlookers.

"People still come from miles around to see this," Nina said quietly, her voice full of something like pride.

Cane stepped forward and shook the guards' hands one at a time, greeting them with the same warmth he would offer anyone else.

Then he walked on.

Both guards stood stunned, eyes wide as if a myth had spoken to them.

Nina hid her smile behind a polite cough. Still the same, she thought. Personable. Grounded. Unshaken by titles or fame.

"Sir Ironheart," a deep voice called respectfully.

Cane turned as a towering man approached—broad-shouldered, silver-haired, and clad in radiant plate armor etched with glowing runes. His presence was both commanding and respectful.

Nina leaned in and whispered, "Lord Klaude Badturgen. And his son."

The older man stepped forward, offering an ornate wooden box.

"Please accept my apology," Klaude said, bowing his head. "For failing to teach my son proper manners."

Cane's gaze shifted past him to the younger Badturgen, who bowed low.

"I acted poorly," the younger knight said, his voice steady. "Please accept my apology."

Cane handed the box to Sophie without a word, then extended his hand. "Let bygones remain bygones. Shake hands like it never happened."

Klaude's eyes lit up. He took Cane's hand in a crushing grip. "Thank you for your grace."

Sophie observed quietly. That's how you handle power, she thought. He hadn't needed to punish the younger Badturgen. He'd already made his point—defending Fergis without ever lifting a weapon.

A young woman approached, her step brisk and composed. Dark hair, darker skin, and a familiar set to her jaw.

She bowed low. "Sir Ironheart, if it pleases you, I shall attend you during today's auction. My name is Ashanti."

Cane tilted his head, studying her.

Then he grinned. "Nepotism at its finest."

"Pardon?" Ashanti glanced toward Nina, clearly startled.

"You're sisters," Cane said, enjoying their stunned silence.

Nina relented with a small laugh. "Not common knowledge, but yes."

"Well, Ashanti," Cane said, still smiling, "I'm sure Nina mentioned I prefer to be called Cane. No 'Sir,' no 'Mister,' just Cane."

"Of course, S—Cane." Ashanti gestured toward the upper balcony. "If you'll follow me."

They ascended the stairs as conversations hushed behind them. Heads turned, whispers followed. By the time they reached the landing, the volume below had swelled again.

At the top, Ashanti paused beside a large set of polished double doors. "Cane, First Knight Rowe has requested to join your party."

Cane nodded. "Meya's coming? That's fine." He glanced at the doorway. "What's the lunch menu today?"

"Baked redfish, assorted crustaceans, or grade six wild boar."

"Crustaceans sound good," Cane said, settling onto an overly wide seat.

Sophie sat beside him, leaning in. "Same for me," she said with a soft smile.

"Oy there, lad," came a familiar voice.

Brammel emerged from the side entrance, his beard braided and boots spotless, grinning as if he owned the place. He took the seat across from them and winked at Sophie.

"Keepin' him outta trouble?"

Sophie tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well… not really."

Brammel's bushy brows waggled. "A daunting task, to be sure."

The dwarf shifted in his seat. "Got anything in auction today?"

"I made a defensive bracer," Cane replied, just as both Nina and Ashanti's psi-runes flickered with light.

A silent message passed between the sisters—just a glance, but something clearly understood.

Nina turned back. "The auction's been delayed an hour, Cane."

"Delayed?" Cane accepted a glass of peach cider from Ashanti, arching a brow.

Nina gave a helpless shrug. Rumor had spread fast after the Olivara Auction House rated his serpent bracer. It wasn't just the 'Above Epic' classification—it was the rare 'Radiant' aesthetic tag. Nobles from half the continent had sent urgent messages asking for time to arrive in person.

"I see," Cane said, unconcerned. "Didn't you say in the coach that Ashanti is a noted singer? Perhaps she could entertain us."

"What?" Ashanti's eyes widened. "Me? Sing? Why would you—"

Nina burst into laughter, cutting her off. "I believe Cane is teasing you."

Sophie bit her lip to hide a smile. "Although… if you can sing, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

Ashanti groaned. "My singing voice would make your hair fall out."

"Family trait," she added.

"Untrue," Nina said, mock-offended. "I sing like a bird."

"Is the crowing of a rooster considered singing?" Ashanti countered.

Sophie leaned over and nudged Cane with her shoulder. "Look what you started."

He chuckled. "Good times."

Below, the crowd showed no signs of restlessness. For many, the auction was more social than transactional. Small groups chatted in every direction—about warfronts, border shifts, funerals, or even where to buy the best hand-knitted scarf.

An hour passed. Then another part of one.

At last, a familiar gentleman in finely pressed attire stepped onto the central platform. The auctioneer began, his voice steady and polished. Bids rose on some items, dwindled on others.

Cane watched casually—until something shifted.

His gaze sharpened, his attention drawn to a presence he couldn't quite place. He turned to Sophie.

"Hmm?" she said, noticing the change in his posture.

"Can I see that?" Cane gestured toward the ornate box from Lord Badturgen.

Sophie handed it over without hesitation and returned to chatting with Nina.

Cane turned the box in his hands. It was exquisitely crafted—polished hardwood with silver inlays at the edges and seams. But more than its artistry, it pulsed with water energy. Subtle. Ancient. Familiar.

A thread of recognition stirred in him—an attunement left behind by Neri, one he hadn't realized was still that sensitive.

Then movement caught his eye.

First Knight Meya Rowe strode toward their seats, and Cane stored the box away in his ringworld, rising to greet her.

Meya grinned and pulled him into a warm, bone-crushing hug. Sophie received a gentler one—though no less sincere.

"Sorry I'm late," Meya said, straightening. "Had to get my blades sharpened."

"Is that code for a bad hair day?" Cane asked.

She blushed, hand unconsciously patting her braid. "How did y—bastard." She huffed and dropped into a chair, nodding politely to Brammel.

The dwarf snorted. "Blades or braid, same fussin' either way."