Chapter 16

The next day came with a sense of finality I hadn't expected. I found myself standing in my modest shop, surrounded by the odds and ends that had once seemed so necessary. A few books here, a couple of trinkets there—all of them reminders of a life I was now leaving behind. Not that I was sentimental about it. Far from it. This was a calculated move, and I had no intention of looking back.

With a casual touch to the small storage stone I carried, I focused my thoughts, and the objects in the room began to disappear, vanishing into the stone's enchanted space with a soft hum. Shelves emptied, surfaces cleared, and in mere moments, what had taken sometime to accumulate was gone. Neat, efficient, and utterly without fuss—just how I liked it.

The final task was to deal with the rent. I approached the front of the shop, where the landlord, a hulking figure of a man named Garrick, was waiting for me. He wasn't the brightest of men, but he had the build of someone who could flatten you if he decided today wasn't your lucky day. I could see the annoyance in his eyes, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. He was probably irritated that I was leaving earlier than planned, but the coin I was about to hand him would more than soothe that disappointment.

"Here," I said, pulling out a small pouch heavy with copper. "A few weeks' rent in advance. Consider it a parting gift."

Garrick's thick fingers closed around the pouch, his brows furrowing slightly as he felt the weight. He glanced at me, his annoyance momentarily forgotten, replaced by the greed that always lurked just beneath the surface.

"That's more than you owe," he grunted, though his tone was far from displeased.

I shrugged, feigning indifference. "Think of it as compensation for my sudden departure. I wouldn't want to leave you high and dry."

He grunted again, his lips twitching into what might've been an attempt at a smile. "Appreciate that. You're a good tenant. Shame to see you go."

"Life moves on," I replied, my tone dismissive. I had no intention of exchanging pleasantries. "I'm sure you'll fill the space soon enough."

Garrick nodded, clearly eager to pocket the extra copper, and I turned on my heel without another word, leaving the shop—and that chapter of my life—behind.

Next stop: the public baths. I'd always appreciated the simplicity of a good soak. The water had a way of washing away more than just dirt and grime—it could cleanse the mind, too. I made my way to the baths, a sprawling complex of stone and marble, steam rising from the heated pools that shimmered in the morning light. It was a place where men came to relax, where conversations flowed as freely as the water itself. But today, I wasn't interested in talk. I was interested in silence and the feeling of letting the world slip away for a little while.

The bath attendants barely looked at me as I stripped off my clothes and slid into the water, the heat sinking into my muscles with a sigh of relief. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth envelope me, and for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. The world outside didn't matter. Not the plans I was making, not the moves I would soon have to make. Just the water and the feeling of it against my skin.

When I finally emerged, clean and feeling a little more at ease with the world, I dressed in the fine clothes I'd chosen for my new role. No more simple fabrics, no more modest appearance. Today, I was someone else—someone with wealth, power, and ambition. The tunic I wore was rich in color, deep blue with golden embroidery along the edges. The boots were soft leather, polished to a shine, and the belt at my waist bore a silver buckle that caught the light just so. I looked every bit the part of a young man of means, someone who had come to this city for more than just idle amusement.

And with that, it was time to move on to the next phase of the plan.

The journey through the bustling streets was quick. The city's layout was like a hive, with each level representing a different strata of society. Today, I was headed to the level just below the temples and palaces—a place where the wealthy gathered, where deals were made over expensive wine and whispered conversations. It was the perfect place for someone like me to blend in, to gather information and make connections.

I walked through the streets, past market stalls and stone buildings, the people around me a mix of merchants, nobility, and the occasional official. The higher I went, the more polished everything became. The cobblestones were cleaner, the air crisper, the smell of the lower levels fading behind me as I ascended.

My destination was a high-class inn, or the Roman equivalent—a domus for travelers of means. The building itself was a marvel, its façade adorned with intricate carvings and marble pillars that gleamed in the sunlight. A small fountain stood in the center of the entrance courtyard, water trickling down in a soothing melody that contrasted with the hushed voices of those milling about.

I stepped inside, the cool interior a welcome relief from the bustling city streets. The innkeeper—a slim, sharply dressed man who looked as if he spent more time grooming his mustache than attending to his duties—spotted me immediately. His eyes flicked over my attire, and in an instant, I saw the calculation in his gaze. He recognized the fine clothes, the way I carried myself. To him, I was just another young man of wealth passing through, and he knew exactly how to cater to my kind.

"Good afternoon, sir," he greeted me, his voice smooth, practiced. "How may I assist you today?"

I smiled, the kind of smile that hinted at privilege and confidence. "I'll need a room for an extended stay," I said, keeping my tone casual but firm. "Something quiet, comfortable. And I expect the best service."

The innkeeper's smile widened, his posture straightening slightly. "Of course, sir. We pride ourselves on offering only the finest accommodations. Please, follow me."

He led me through the inn, past the main hall where a few guests were lounging in luxury, sipping wine or engaged in soft conversation. The walls were adorned with tapestries, rich with color and design, and the scent of incense lingered in the air—a heady, expensive aroma that told you this was not a place for the common folk.

We reached the room he'd selected for me, and as he opened the door, I was greeted with the sight of a spacious chamber, complete with a large, comfortable bed, a writing desk made of polished wood, and a balcony that overlooked the inner courtyard. It was everything I had expected—and more.

"This will do nicely," I said, stepping inside and inspecting the room with a casual air of someone who had stayed in far better places but was willing to tolerate this one.

The innkeeper nodded, pleased with himself. "If you require anything, sir, do not hesitate to ask. We aim to provide only the finest for our guests."

I dismissed him with a nod, and he left, closing the door behind him. I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The plan was coming together nicely. I had the look, the place, and soon enough, the connections.

As the evening began to fall, I ventured downstairs, making my way to the inn's dining area. The atmosphere was refined, with soft candlelight flickering across the tables and the murmur of low conversations filling the room. Servants moved silently between the tables, delivering plates of fine food and goblets of wine to the wealthy patrons who dined there.

I found a table near the back, a quiet spot where I could observe without being observed too much in return. The other guests barely spared me a glance as I settled in, my presence blending in seamlessly with the air of quiet affluence that filled the space.

As I sipped on a glass of wine, my mind wandered back to the events of the day. The ease with which I had transitioned into this new role was almost amusing. People saw what you showed them, nothing more. The fine clothes, the confident air—it was all part of the façade, and they bought it without question.

I had become someone else, and the best part? No one suspected a thing.

A few of the other guests gave me passing glances, curious perhaps, but none dared approach. I could feel the weight of their unspoken judgments, their assumptions. They saw what they expected—a young man of means, new to the city, and possibly on some business of importance. But they didn't know the truth, and they wouldn't, not until I was ready to reveal it.

As I sat there, contemplating my next moves, the inn's atmosphere seemed to settle around me like a cloak. The game was just beginning, and I had every intention of playing it to the fullest.

For now, I was content to watch, to wait, and to let the pieces fall into place.

I sat back in my chair, savoring the smooth finish of the wine as I let the atmosphere of the inn wrap around me. The evening had taken on a gentle hum—wealthy patrons murmured over their meals, candlelight flickered across polished surfaces, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced sauces hung in the air like an invisible feast for the senses. It was the kind of place where every detail was designed to remind you of luxury, where even the shadows seemed expensive.

I was enjoying the scene, letting the night unfold at its own pace, when my attention was drawn to a family seated across the room. They were dressed well—nobility, no doubt—occupying one of the larger tables near the center of the dining hall. The father, a man of middle age with graying hair and a face that spoke of privilege and entitlement, leaned over to whisper something to his daughter. The girl couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than me, maybe twenty at most. She was elegantly dressed, her hair carefully arranged in the style of the day, and there was a gleam of something in her eyes as she listened to whatever her father was saying.

I knew that look. It was the same look I'd seen on Ava the night before—the look of someone who was curious, but not out of simple intrigue. No, this was something more calculated, more deliberate. The girl's eyes flicked in my direction, just for a moment, and I knew I had become the topic of that whispered conversation.

With a grace that suggested she'd been trained for such moments, the girl stood, smoothing out the fine fabric of her dress. It shimmered slightly in the candlelight as she began to make her way toward me, her steps measured, her expression carefully neutral. There was no nervousness in her approach—no hesitation. She was like a predator eyeing her prey, assessing me with the cool, detached interest of someone used to getting what they wanted.

Well, this could be interesting.

She stopped just short of my table, offering a slight bow—not out of deference, but as a formality. It was a gesture that said, "I am noble, you will acknowledge me," without actually needing to say it. Her eyes were sharp, bright with curiosity, but her posture remained composed.

"Good evening," she said, her voice smooth and carefully modulated. "I hope I'm not intruding. My name is Livia. I couldn't help but notice you sitting here alone."

Ah, here we go.

"David," I replied, inclining my head slightly in acknowledgment. "And no, you're not intruding. Just enjoying a quiet moment. I'm guessing that's a rare thing around here?"

Livia smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You could say that. It's not often we have new faces in this part of the city, especially ones dining alone in such a fine establishment. Are you visiting?"

There it was—the first probe. I could feel her assessing me already, trying to place me. I had no doubt her father had sent her over to gather information, perhaps curious about who I was and what business I had here. Nobles didn't like unknowns, especially ones that looked like they didn't belong but somehow managed to fit in perfectly.

"Passing through," I said, keeping my tone casual, nonchalant. "Business, mostly."

Livia's eyes flicked over me again, lingering for just a moment on the details—my well-tailored clothes, the wine I'd chosen, the casual confidence with which I carried myself. She was building a profile in her head, just like I was doing with her.

"Business?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "What kind of business, if you don't mind me asking?"

Another probe. She was good at this, I had to give her that. But I'd played this game far too many times to fall for such basic tactics.

I smiled, leaning back slightly. "The kind that's better left vague. Let's just say I move between cities, making sure certain… arrangements are in place. Nothing too thrilling, I'm afraid."

Her expression didn't change, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was trying to figure out what I wasn't saying, trying to read between the lines. Most people would find it easy to underestimate a young noblewoman like Livia, assuming she was just another pretty face bred for marriage and family. But I could tell there was more to her. She was intelligent, curious—dangerous, even. Not in the way that a knife in the dark is dangerous, but in the way that a spider spins its web, waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.

"And what brings you to this particular part of town?" she continued, her voice still light, conversational, but there was an edge to it now. "We don't often see men like you here. You must have some important connections."

I chuckled softly, more for effect than anything else. "Connections are everything, aren't they? As for why I'm here, well, let's just say I've heard good things about this place. Figured it was worth a visit."

Livia's eyes narrowed, just a fraction, but she quickly masked the reaction. She wasn't getting the answers she wanted, and it was frustrating her, though she was too poised to let it show.

She shifted slightly, changing her tactic. "You seem to understand people well," she said, her tone a touch more personal now. "The way you speak, the way you carry yourself—it's almost as if you're… observing."

I smiled inwardly. So, she'd noticed that. Good. "You could say that. People are fascinating. The way they interact, the way they reveal themselves without meaning to. It's all very telling."

Livia's curiosity piqued. "And what, exactly, have you observed about me?"

Ah, there it was—the challenge. She wanted to know what I thought of her, whether I'd seen through the façade she'd carefully constructed. And as a psychologist, I'd seen it all before.

I leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze head-on. "You're careful. Calculating. You're here because you've been sent to figure out who I am and what my purpose is, but you're also genuinely curious. You're used to getting information out of people easily—most men would fall all over themselves to tell you what you want to know. But you've noticed I'm not most men, and that intrigues you."

For the first time, Livia's composure slipped—just a fraction, just enough for me to catch the briefest flicker of surprise in her eyes before she recovered. Her smile returned, though it was tighter now, less practiced.

"You're very perceptive," she said, her voice a touch cooler now. "But then again, I suppose that's why you're here, isn't it? To understand people, to gather information."

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "We all have our methods. Yours just happens to be more… elegant than most."

Livia's eyes darkened slightly, but she held my gaze. There was something more happening now, a deeper tension beneath the surface. She wasn't used to being outmaneuvered, and she was trying to decide whether to press further or retreat.

"You've given me quite a lot to think about," she said finally, her tone measured but still carrying that edge of curiosity. "But I wonder—what is it you want, David? You seem too clever to be here by accident. What's your game?"

I smiled, though I didn't bother answering the question directly. Instead, I took another sip of wine, letting the silence stretch just long enough to remind her that I wasn't going to give her the answers she was looking for.

"That's for me to know," I said finally, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "But rest assured, Livia—you'll figure it out eventually. You seem like the type who always does."

She gave a small, appreciative nod, though I could see the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. This conversation wasn't going the way she'd planned, but I had to admit, she'd handled it well. She was intrigued, I could tell, but she was also cautious. Smart. The type of person who understood the game, but wasn't quite sure if she was ready to play on my level.

"I suppose I will," she said, her voice softer now, almost resigned. "But until then, I hope you enjoy your time in our city."

With that, she offered another graceful nod, stepping back with the same quiet elegance she'd approached with. As she turned to leave, I couldn't help but watch her go, a faint smile playing at the corners of my lips.

Livia was interesting. Too interesting, perhaps. But I wasn't ready to be anyone's pawn—not yet, anyway. There was more to learn, more to uncover. And if she wanted to play, she'd have to do a lot better than that.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that our little encounter was just the beginning. And for once, I found myself looking forward to whatever came next.

As she returned to her family, her father gave me a sharp glance from across the room. Clearly, he wasn't thrilled with the way our conversation had gone. But that was his problem, not mine.

I took another sip of wine, letting the rich taste linger on my tongue as I leaned back, my eyes drifting over the inn's dimly lit interior.

When I finally made it to my room, the weight of the day pressed down on me, heavier than I had anticipated. The conversation with Livia had been stimulating, to say the least, but it had also left me with a sense of unease. Not fear—never that—but a subtle awareness that I wasn't playing in the lower leagues anymore. These people—Livia, her family, the patrons in this inn—they played the game at a higher level, with sharper tools. It would have been foolish not to take precautions.

I locked the door behind me with a firm click and took a slow look around the room. It was well-appointed, almost luxurious, with rich tapestries lining the walls and a large bed dominating the center. The kind of comfort that lulls most people into a false sense of security. But I wasn't most people.

Experience had taught me that when you start to feel comfortable, that's precisely when you should be on guard. Especially in a place like this, where everyone smiled but kept their daggers hidden just beneath the surface.

I reached into my pouch and pulled out a handful of small stones—smooth, worn by the water of a brook I had crossed some months ago. They weren't much to look at, but their simplicity was part of their charm. More importantly, they held magic well. Runes, the kind I used, didn't need to be flashy. In fact, the best ones were the least conspicuous.

Each stone fit comfortably in the palm of my hand, small and unassuming—exactly what I needed. I took a moment to clear my mind, feeling the quiet hum of energy that buzzed just below the surface of my skin, a sense of power waiting to be called upon. Slowly, deliberately, I etched the runes onto the stones with a thin, precise blade—each line, each curve exact.

These weren't just any runes. They were wards of protection, designed to create an invisible barrier around the room, a shield that would alert me if anything—or anyone—tried to cross it. And if they were foolish enough to try, well, let's just say they wouldn't get very far.

I placed the first stone in the corner of the room, tucking it behind the thick curtain where it would be hidden from view. The moment it touched the ground, I felt the ward activate—a subtle shift in the air, like the room itself exhaled in acknowledgment.

The second stone went beneath the small table near the door, carefully positioned so that it would cover the entrance. I crouched down, feeling the cool stone beneath my fingertips as I pressed the rune into place. Another pulse of magic, barely noticeable but there, rippled through the space.

I continued the process, placing each stone with precision—one behind the chair by the window, another near the foot of the bed, the last one discreetly tucked into the small drawer of the nightstand. Each rune added another layer of protection, the magic weaving together like an invisible web, forming a barrier that extended in all directions. No one would be able to approach without me knowing. And if they tried to break through, the wards would expel them with enough force to send them flying.

Satisfied, I stood in the center of the room, closing my eyes for a moment to attune myself to the network of wards I had created. The barrier wasn't just a physical thing; it was a presence, a ripple in the fabric of the space around me. I could feel it, like a second skin wrapping the room, sensitive to the smallest disturbance.

But protection wasn't enough. I needed to be sure there were no traps already waiting for me.

I took a slow, deliberate walk around the room, my hand outstretched as I traced invisible patterns in the air. I took out another stone and activated it. The power in the stone was meant to reveal what was hidden, to uncover the presence of any malevolent magic lingering in the space.

It didn't take long before I felt something—a faint pulse of energy, like a thread barely tugging at the edges of my awareness. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the feeling, tracing it to its source: a small, innocuous-looking box sitting on the dresser. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that I was paying attention, I could feel the magic embedded in it—a subtle, dangerous rune designed to ensnare the mind, to cloud judgment and impair memory. Someone had hoped I wouldn't notice.

Amateurs.

With some quick work of my tools, I dispelled the rune, the box's magic unraveling like smoke dissipating into the air. Whoever had set it had clearly underestimated me. I'd have to remember that for later.

With the room now properly secured, I allowed myself a moment of relief. The wards were strong, the space clear of any immediate threats. I was as safe as I could be in a place like this. But even with that knowledge, there was always a part of me that remained on edge.

I moved toward the bed, pulling back the heavy blankets and sliding beneath them. The mattress was softer than I was used to—luxurious, even—but that wasn't what concerned me. I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle hum of the wards as they settled into place, their energy pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

The truth was, I'd never fully trust any ward, no matter how well-crafted it was. Magic could be tricky, unpredictable. And in a city like this, full of people with secrets and hidden agendas, I wasn't about to gamble my life on a handful of runes and some well-placed stones. But it was better than nothing.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but reflect on the day—the careful games of conversation, the veiled threats disguised as pleasantries, the subtle chess moves made by people like Livia. She'd tried to get inside my head, to figure out what made me tick. But I hadn't given her much to work with. I could tell that had frustrated her, and that made me smile.

People like Livia always believed they were the ones in control. They thought they could probe and prod, use their charm and wit to get what they wanted. But I knew better. I'd built a career out of seeing through people's masks, out of understanding the psychology behind their behaviors and motivations. Livia was no different. She was playing the same game, just with different tools.

I wondered what her next move would be. And more importantly, I wondered how I would counter it.

As I drifted toward sleep, the wards hummed softly in the background, a gentle reminder that I was protected. For now, at least. I could only hope that my runes were stronger than whatever magic might be lurking out there. It was a gamble, but life was full of those. The key was knowing when to roll the dice—and when to fold.

I shifted under the covers, my mind finally beginning to quiet. The day had been long, full of intrigue and tension, but I'd survived it. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow would bring new challenges, new moves on the board.

But for now, I let the comfort of the wards surround me, their magic pulsing softly against the edges of my consciousness. Safe, for the moment.

With that thought, I surrendered to the pull of sleep, hoping that the invisible barrier I'd created would hold through the night.