Chapter 26: A room of cigar and information

WARNING: THIS IS A LENGTHY CHAPTER. 

The weight of the grimoire's secrets settled upon Antoinette like a blade pressed to her spine. Waiting was no longer an option. Information was power, and she needed it now.

"I'm going shopping in a few hours, Shyla," Antoinette said, adjusting the silk scarf around her neck with a flick of her wrist. Her voice was casual, dismissive. "Watch over this place. And make sure the King is well. We need him back at the palace, handling business."

Shyla's sharp elven eyes narrowed. "Shopping?"

Antoinette offered a slow, measured smile—the kind she'd perfected in her past life when dealing with men who thought they held the upper hand. "Everyone needs a break, Shyla. And I've been feeling rather… inspired. Perhaps a new gown, a fresh perspective. Just a little harmless diversion."

Harmless? Hardly. This was recon. A precision strike. And those Plyon bastards wouldn't know they were being hunted until it was too late.

"I'll be back… eventually," she added, feigning lightheartedness. "Tell them I'm out shopping for very specific items. Ones they wouldn't understand."

Shyla didn't look convinced, but Antoinette was already done with the conversation. She packed with ruthless efficiency—clothes, rations, weapons. Off went the delicate gowns, replaced by dark, practical pants and a fitted black shirt. Her hair was twisted into a tight bun, stray wisps framing her face just enough to soften the edges. She strapped on black boots, a sword across her back, daggers on her thighs. A vial of potent poison, distilled from magical beast blood and rare herbs, hidden in a concealed pocket. A pistol tucked neatly into a reinforced holster. A pouch of gold—enough to buy cooperation where fear wouldn't do the job.

She rode out of Seabarrow under the cover of dusk, her silhouette blending into the dying light as she made her way to Caesium, the capital of Aethelgard. She knew Raven's network ran deep—high society, the criminal underbelly, and the spaces in between.

Upon arrival, she navigated the market's winding alleys, slipping into a secluded stall where an old woman sold hand-carved masks. One caught her eye immediately—a grotesque, elongated face of dark wood. Hollow eyes, a wide, exaggerated grin. Black fibers were woven into the brow, polished shells adding an eerie glint. Stark red and black paint, the mark of a spirit of vengeance. A single gold sun motif gleamed on the forehead, an omen of power.

She donned the mask, its cold surface pressing against her skin, and stepped into the city's underworld.

The tavern was dimly lit, thick with the scent of ale and secrets. Raven was there, draped in shadows, her gaze as sharp as ever. She barely spared Antoinette a glance until she spoke.

"I need information." Her voice was low, distorted by the mask. "Castle blueprints. Security details. Hidden entrances. Everything."

Raven turned fully to her, eyes narrowing. "That's dangerous knowledge. What's it for?"

Antoinette tilted her head slightly, the mask making the movement seem almost unnatural. Don't ask questions you don't want answers to. She let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable.

"That's not your concern," she finally said, voice smooth, unreadable. "I just need to know how to get in and out without a problem."

Raven studied her for a long moment before exhaling. "I have contacts. But it won't come cheap."

Antoinette leaned in slightly, the weight of her presence pressing down like a loaded gun set on the table. "I don't negotiate. Name your price, and you'll get paid. But if you screw me, Raven, you and I are going to have a very different conversation."

Raven smirked, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Fair enough."

She pulled out a worn parchment, spread it across the table. It was a map—detailed, annotated, lined with patrol routes and hidden corridors. Antoinette memorized it swiftly, tracing escape routes in her mind. Every weakness, every blind spot. She committed it all to memory before tucking it away beneath her cloak.

"Consider us even, then," Raven murmured, watching her carefully. "But next time, bring a better disguise. That mask? It'll get you noticed."

Antoinette chuckled under her breath. "None of your business."

She slipped out as silently as she'd arrived, disappearing into the night. In Seabarrow, miles away, Shyla felt a creeping sensation of unease settle over her. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that the air itself was heavier. That Antoinette was no longer simply playing the game.

She was rewriting the rules.

Antoinette made her way through the winding alleys of Caesium, the evening air thick with the scent of burning incense and distant food stalls. She knew the city well, its dark corners, its forgotten places where secrets were bought and sold for the right price. But today, she was after something more than just whispers. She needed information. And the man who had it sat in his office, tucked away in a building far from the prying eyes of the nobility.

The old wooden door of Kap's office loomed in front of her like a warning. A heavy scent of smoke wafted through the cracks of the door, clinging to the air as though it had lived here for years. She knocked once, hard, before pushing it open. The creak of the door echoed through the silence of the room.

Inside, the man sat at his desk, a towering figure silhouetted by the dim glow of a single lantern. The office was cluttered, the walls draped in heavy tapestries that were too old to be cleaned, too grim to be admired. A massive oak desk stood in the center, and behind it, Kap—an imposing giant of a man—loomed like a shadow. His thick, unruly beard hid half his face, but his eyes were sharp, glowing red in the dim light, locked onto her the moment she entered.

Kap was the kind of person who made an impression without trying. His sheer size, his quiet confidence, and the pungent smell of tobacco hanging thick in the air all added to the intimidation. He didn't need to speak to establish his dominance. But when he did, it was with the kind of gravely voice that you'd expect from someone who had lived through every hard fight, every back-alley deal, and come out on top.

"You're late," Kap said, without looking up. His voice was rough, as if the years had worn it down like a stone against the river. "I expected you sooner."

Antoinette flinched. She had heard stories of Kap—stories that painted him as a mystic, a spirit who inhabited the trees, but all she saw before her now was a giant human smoking a tobacco cigar in the size of a wine bottle who had learned to wield power in the shadows. He had been operating on the fringes of society long enough to see everything and say little. And it was exactly that silence that made him dangerous.

"How'd you know I'll be here?" she asked coolly, her voice steady as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the room.

Kap stared at her and grunted.

No answer huh. I guess this is serious business indeed.

"I trust you've got the information I need."

Kap's gaze never left her. He took a long drag from his cigar, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he slowly set the cigar down into the ashtray beside him. Then, he reached for his beer, uncapping it with a slow motion, as if he were savoring the moment. He took a swig before responding.

"You think this comes for free?" he muttered, eyeing her now with a sharp glint in his red eyes. "You got a lot of nerve walking in here demanding things. You think I'm gonna hand over my knowledge just because you ask?"

Antoinette was unmoved. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto his. She was prepared for this. She had expected it.

"I didn't come here to beg," she said, her voice low but firm. "I came here for something specific. Something that'll help me deal with a traitor. And I don't have time for your games, old man."

Kap's lips twitched into a grin, though there was nothing kind in it. His large frame seemed to grow even more imposing as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.

"Games?" he repeated, amusement dancing in his tone. "You think this is some game? This is the real world. People get hurt. People die. Secrets? They cost, and they always come with strings attached. You think you can just waltz in here and walk out with what you need?"

Antoinette's gaze hardened. She wasn't here for small talk. She needed results.

"I'm not interested in your philosophy," she said, her voice cutting through the smoke-filled air. "I need the castle's layout, their security weaknesses, hidden entrances—everything. I'm not here to barter for a long conversation. I came to make this quick."

Kap exhaled slowly, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. He studied her for a long moment, the weight of his gaze making her feel as though he was reading her every thought, every weakness. Then, finally, he nodded.

"I've got what you want," he said, his voice suddenly colder. "But nothing's free. You'll pay for it—one way or another."

Antoinette stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his, and said flatly, "Name your price."

For a moment, Kap was silent. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating. Then, with a chuckle, he leaned forward, placing his beer back on the desk.

"Good. You're learning," he said, his grin widening as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a folded map. "Plyon's been in this game a long time. You want to take them down, you'll need more than just a few plans. You'll need blood."

He slid the map toward her, his long fingers brushing against the edge of the paper.

"And that," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "is going to cost you more than you're ready for."

"Name it old man."

Kap laughed and leaned on Antoinette then left off a heavy smoke from the cigar in her face then said, "Let me see your deepest secret unfold in my head."

Antoinette didn't hesitate."Huh, interesting. I hope you're ready for it."

"Cheeky brat." Kap placed his massive hand over Antoinette's head. His thick fingers radiated heat, the scent of burning leaves and strong liquor flooding her senses.

"Let's take a little peek…" he muttered.

Then—silence.

A flood of visions hit him like a freight train:

Gunshots in the dark. Blood pooling on a cold concrete floor. Screams muffled by jazz playing in some rundown joint. Ethan, in a sharp suit, dragging a man by the collar—his eyes merciless, his aim precise. A body dropped. Another order followed. A throne not of gold, but of fear and loyalty, built from the shadows of back-alley deals and whispered threats.

Kap's breath caught. "What in the hell…"

He saw Ethan's rise—a monster born of survival, loyal to few, feared by many. But just as he leaned deeper, a light began to grow inside the memory—pale, piercing.

Kap flinched.

The mafia blood-soaked world was wiped away like mist… and in its place stood her.

Not Antoinette.

Not Ethan.

But a figure made of moonlight, standing in the void, her silver hair drifting like water in space, her face both ageless and ancient. The Moon Goddess, Malyari.

She stared straight at Kap—no words, just presence. Eyes like twin moons, impossibly calm and devastatingly powerful.

Kap stumbled backward, hand flying off Antoinette's head like he'd been burned.

"Son of a bitch," he rasped, a shiver running down his spine as he staggered toward his desk, knocking over the beer bottle. "What the hell are you?"

Antoinette said smirked. 

Kap stared at her, breathing hard, smoke curling from the cigar clutched between his thick fingers. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then barked a low, uneasy laugh.

"You're not just a killer. You're a damn harbinger."

He looked at her again, a wary respect settling in. "I've dealt with warlords, witches, and gods pretending to be men. But you… you've got something old watching over you."

Antoinette adjusted her gloves. "What you saw was valuable old man, I'll be coming back here for more of your services."

Kap nodded slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. 

He handed her the intel. 

She took the map, folded it into her cloak, and stood up, ready to leave. She knew the path ahead would be hard. But with Kap's information, she was one step closer to tearing the kingdom's enemies apart.

She turned to leave, but before she reached the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder.

"What you saw is equivalent to your life old man. Watch your back." she said, her voice steady, filled with the promise of what was to come.

Kap's eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he watched her leave. 

The door slammed shut behind her, but his grin didn't fade. He had seen this before. 

"Always be at your service, Princess Antoinette of Aethelgard or should I say, the gods favorite."

And for the first time in years, he was curious to see how far this one would go.