Chapter 13: Threads in the Dark (2)

Ryazania POV:

We began pinning up the missing posters, following a plan Mal had quickly put together. He was surprisingly strategic about it, choosing high-traffic areas where the most people would be likely to see them. Mal, in particular, seemed fixated on one specific spot he claimed was "perfect" and immediately went off to handle it himself.

We had just finished putting up the last of the posters when the sound of armored boots thudding against the cobblestones brought us to a halt. A pair of them stopped right behind us.

"Oi! You three! " a knight barked. "Do you have a permit to post those? "

Mal turned, calm but firm. "It's a missing person notice. My friend's cousin is lost-"

"I didn't ask for the story," the knight snapped. "I asked for a permit."

Fein stepped forward. "Come on, this is ridiculous-"

Before he could finish, two more knights joined the first, surrounding us.

"You violate city ordinance. Posting unsanctioned materials without guild or city approval is grounds for detainment."

"What?" I said, incredulous. "We're just trying to find someone."

"You can explain that to the magistrate."

They began cuffing us. I struggled slightly, but Mal gave me a look, " Don't resist. As they pulled us away, a few of the posters slipped from my satchel and fluttered onto the cobblestone.

One of them landed at the feet of a man in a dark blue cloak. He bent, picking up the portrait of Ryuu. His eyes widened as he studied the image, mesmerized. He said nothing, simply folding it and slipping it into his coat.

We were dragged through the streets and tossed into a cold, stone-walled cell. The bars were thick. The knights stayed posted outside, watching us like hawks.

Then, after a few hours.

We were still stuck in that damn cell, and I hated everything about it, the cold stone walls, the smell of damp rust, the feel of grime under my boots, and the stale air that pressed against my skin like a second layer of sweat.

Mal leaned against the wall, silent, his gaze distant. Fein paced like a caged beast, muttering under his breath.

"You'd think we murdered someone," he grumbled, voice sharp with frustration.

I sat in the corner, arms wrapped around my knees, watching the bars across the room. Our things were still on the far table; my sword among them.

I could see it lying there, but I didn't need to touch it.

Because the system still worked.

[System link active]

[Location: Detention Cell, Eldenforve Guard Post

][Environmental Status: Poor sanitation / Inadequate airflow]

[Tracking connected inventory: Sword – distance 5.7 meters]

[Monitoring vitals: Stable]

I sighed quietly. At least something was still on my side.

Hours passed in silence. Then, near dawn, one of the knights returned. His expression had changed, more careful, more formal. Without a word, he unlocked the cell door and gestured for us to step out.

We exchanged glances, unsure.

That's when I saw him.

A tall elven man stood just beyond the gates, dressed in finely tailored robes the color of wine and gold. His presence demanded attention..not from arrogance, but from precision. Every movement was measured. Every glance deliberate.

He stepped forward and extended his hand to me.

"Hello there, young lady," he said with a disarming smile. "May I ask… how did you make this portrait? And so many?"

[System analysis complete]

[Subject: Elros Darethiel]

[Age: 127]

[Affinity: Aether-class / Artificer lineage]

[Affiliation: House Eloras – Central Dominion Archive Guild]

[Desire: Cultural acquisition / historical preservation]

[Intent: Seek access to device used for mass replication]

I was awestruck, Elves exist and truly they live for so long then, I hesitated, glancing briefly at Mal and Fein. They didn't speak, but they were watching.

I shook the elf's hand. "Yes. I drew it. Then I copied it… using a machine we built."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, interest deepening. "A machine? Can that replicate art with such exactness? Fascinating."

Even with the sword separated from me, I could feel it hum faintly in the back of my mind. The system was attentive, observing.

[Threat level: Low]

[Current demeanor: Curious]

[Potential outcome: Partnership request likely]

"And this machine," he continued, folding the parchment carefully, "is still in your possession?"

I nodded. "It's in our workshop. You're welcome to see it."

He smiled again, softer this time. "Then I would very much like to. Such innovation deserves to be seen."

There was something in his tone I couldn't read, somewhere between genuine admiration and calculating interest.

But I nodded anyway.

We needed help. We needed reach. And most of all… we needed Ryuu found.

And if this machine could move hearts, then so be it.

We walked together, his footsteps quiet beside mine. And the sword, somewhere just out of reach, vibrated softly with the same thought that flickered across my mind.

This… was just the beginning.

_______________

Elara stood by the market fountain, carefully pinning one of Ryazania's missing posters onto a wooden post. She smoothed out the corners and whispered a quiet prayer for the boy in the drawing.

Then she heard shouting. A small crowd had gathered beyond the vendor stalls. Her eyes locked onto the sceneknights surrounding Mal, Fein, and Ryazania.

She took a step forward, heart pounding. "What in Astra's name are they?"

Before she could move further, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alley.

"Stay quiet," a voice hissed.

She twisted away and spun to face him. "What are you? "

Her breath caught. Tall, leather coat, a scar along his cheek. His eyes were sharp, colder than she remembered.

"You… you're!"

"I told you not to get involved," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Why are you watching them?"

"I'm trying to keep you out of something messy," he said, voice flat. "Just go back. Don't get mixed in."

"I'm not leaving them," she snapped. "They're my friends."

Without waiting for another word, Elara turned and ran down the alley, ignoring his voice calling after her.

She burst into Vengir's home, breathless. "Vengir! The knights arrested them..Mal, Ryazania, Fein. Right in the middle of the market!"

Vengir looked up from his cluttered workbench, his expression darkening. "What? "

"And someone else was there," she added quickly. "That man from before…He stopped me. Told me to stay out of it."

Vengir stood slowly, wiping his hands on a rag. "Garret Halven…"

He said the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"That bastard," Vengir muttered. "I don't know what he's after, but he's been showing up too often lately."

He grabbed his coat from the wall, already walking past Elara.

"No tools, no weapons. Just words."

Elara hurried after him. "Where are you going? "

"To the guardhouse. To find out why the hell my guests are being treated like criminals."

They walked quickly through the frost-covered streets. The rising sun did little to ease the cold. By the time they reached the guardhouse, two knights stood watch at the door.

Vengir stepped up, his voice sharp. "I'm here to speak to whoever's in charge. My people were arrested. I want to know why."

One knight straightened. "They were released earlier this morning. A noble paid their bail."

Vengir's brow furrowed. "Who? "

"A Highborn Elf. Didn't give a name, just proper credentials. Claimed he was interested in the girl's artwork."

Elara blinked. "Artwork? "

"Portraits," the second knight said. "Posters of a missing person. He said she used some kind of machine to replicate them."

Vengir's jaw tightened. "And where did he take them? "

"We don't know," one of the knights replied. "They left together. Peacefully."

Vengir stood silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. "So now we've got a nosy elf and Garret Halven sniffing around. This just keeps getting better."

He turned to Elara. "Go back to the house. If Mal or Fein shows up, tell them not to leave again."

"What about you? " she asked.

"I'm going to figure out where they went. And if Halven has anything to do with this, I'll deal with him myself."

Then he walked off down the road, not running, but every step carried weight.

Elara watched him go, the wind tugging at her sleeves.

Elara returns to their house.

Elara pushed open the door of Vengir's forge with a sigh of relief. "They're here," she muttered to herself, spotting Ryazania's boots by the entrance. She moved quickly down the hall toward the room where the printing press had been built.

Inside, Mal and Fein stood to the side, watching Ryazania tinker with the final adjustments. The printing press stood proudly at the center of the room, its gears humming faintly.

Ryazania POV:

Sheets of parchment rolled out of the press, each one printed with sharp, clean copies of Ryuu's portrait.

Beside me stood the elven nobleman who had bailed us out, tall, elegant, with an air of refinement. He watched in quiet awe as the machine hissed and clanked, producing page after perfect page.

I stepped back and pulled a fresh print from the tray, holding it up to the light. "It works," I said softly. "Exactly the way it was meant to."

The elf clapped slowly, thoughtfully. "An invention like this... It's revolutionary. Reproducible art. Uniform scrolls. Education, announcements, even propaganda. This will change how we spread knowledge across the continent."

He turned toward me, tone shifting. "I represent House Eloras. We oversee cultural advancement and recordkeeping across several cities. With your permission, this device should be studied. Secured. Preserved by the state to prevent misuse."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a folded scroll, holding it toward him. "No. But I'm willing to sell the rights to use it," I said. "The terms are simple: every time the press is used, I get paid. A fair fee, nothing more."

His eyes scanned the scroll, a spark of amusement and admiration dancing across his face. "You've thought this through."

From the corner, Elara crossed her arms, frowning. "You're just giving it away? After everything we went through?"

"We've printed hundreds," I said gently. "That's enough. If they're spread far enough, someone will recognize Ryuu. That's all I need."

The elf offered his hand. "Then it's settled. House Eloras accepts your terms, Miss Ryazania. May this be the first of many collaborations."

I shook his hand, the deal made.

Just then, the front door swung open. Vengir stepped into the house, his eyes sweeping across the scene me beside the press, the elf with a satisfied smile, sheets of portraits scattered on the table.

He stopped dead in the doorway.

"Someone want to explain what the hell is going on in my house?" he asked flatly.

The elf turned toward him. "I was just proposing the construction of a second press."

Before I could answer, Fein stepped in, standing firm between the two of them.

"This press already cost us everything," he said quietly, glancing at the old chest of spent materials. "The materials were rare. Priceless. And we lost someone to make this happen. That price was already too high."

He looked the elf in the eye. "We can't replicate it. Not again. We built this one… but there won't be another. Not like it."

A brief silence followed.

The elf's expression sobered. "Then I suppose I'll consider this model… irreplaceable."

Vengir muttered something under his breath and crossed the room. "Damn right it is." 

The elf paused in the doorway, hand on the frame, then turned back to us.

Mal stepped forward. "Thank you for bailing us out."

The elf inclined his head, expression polite. He leaned close to Mal and murmured something.

Mal's eyes narrowed, but he only nodded.

Without another word, the elf straightened and stepped outside. The morning sun glinted off his robes as he walked to the street. We followed him out of Vengir's house, lingering on the threshold.

Fein called after him, "Sir, thanks again for everything."

The elf glanced back, offering a casual wave. "Good luck with your endeavors."

A sleek carriage rolled to a stop at the curb. The driver leapt down, opened the door, and the elf stepped in. The carriage door shut quietly, and with a soft clatter of hooves on stone, he was gone.

We stood in the silent street for a moment, the warning still hanging in the air. Then Mal sighed and turned toward the forge, Fein and I close behind, already planning our next move.

As the carriage rounded the corner, I felt the familiar hum in my mind.

[SYSTEM ALERT: MULTIPLE LIFE SIGNS DETECTED ON SURROUNDING

ROOFTOPS]

[POTENTIAL SURVEILLANCE UNITS IDENTIFIED]

I glanced up at the slate roofs. Elara watched me carefully.

"Ryazania, are you all right?" she asked.

I forced a smile. "Just... the system warning me. Probably nothing."

Elara gave me a gentle look. "Why don't you come inside? I'll cook lunch."

Vengir nodded, amusement in his eyes. "She gets a nobleman all in awe like that, and she thinks it's nothing."

I shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "It's all part of the day, isn't it?"

In the distance, I saw a lone figure slipping into an alley; Fein. He paused, glanced our way, then vanished into shadow. He'd be busy tonight.

I followed Elara and Vengir back into the warmth of the forge. Elara set a pot on the stove and began chopping vegetables while Vengir stoked the fire.

I settled onto a bench, letting the heat seep into my bones. My mind drifted to the rooftops, to those hidden watchers. 

_______

A few days passed in a blur of routine. Elara's stews grew better each day, and the press hummed quietly in the corner. Vengir buried himself in plans and blueprints. Fein returned at odd hours, silent as the moon.

Then after a few days.., a messenger arrived. A seal of deep violet wax bearing the emblem of House Eloras tapped my heart with hope and anxiety.

Vengir broke it open. "An invitation," he said, scanning the scroll. "To their manor. They request your presence… and mine."

I exchanged a glance with him. Elara paused at the stove. Fein appeared behind me, curious.

"House Eloras invites us?" I repeated.

Vengir nodded, eyes flat. "They want to meet again. Officially."

Elara's knife stilled. Fein's brow furrowed.

I closed my eyes and let the words settle around me.

The system chimed softly:

[MESSAGE RECEIVED: INVITATION TO MANOR OF HOUSE ELORAS]

[ANALYSIS: HIGH IMPORTANCE | POTENTIAL DIPLOMATIC OPPORTUNITY]

I opened my eyes. "Then we go."

MAL POV: 

We were halfway through posting the last of the flyers when I saw the figure.

The ink was still drying on the parchment in my hands as Ryazania carefully pressed another poster onto the wall. Fein stood nearby, arms crossed, keeping lookout like always. The streets weren't too crowded, but that didn't mean no one was watching.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her.

Elara stood by the fountain, pinning up a poster of Ryuu, her movements gentle, reverent. But that's not what caught my attention.

It was the man beside her. He didn't grab her roughly, didn't shout. He just reached out, and she froze. Even from this distance, I could tell something about him put her on edge. She turned her head, said something and then he pulled her into the alley.

"Elara?" I muttered, already taking a step before-

"Oi! You three!" a voice snapped behind me.

A knight.

And then two more.

Fein bristled. Ryazania's jaw tightened.

"Do you have a permit to post those?" the knight demanded.

"It's a missing person notice," I replied calmly. "My friend's cousin-"

"Did I ask for a story?" the knight interrupted, already reaching for restraints.

I sighed and raised my hands. "Don't resist," I said quietly to the others. "Let's not make it worse."

As they cuffed us, one of the posters slipped from Ryazania's bag and fluttered to the cobblestones. I caught the faint rustle as someone picked it up.

A man. Dark cloak. Hood drawn low.

He looked at the portrait like he'd seen a ghost. Said nothing. Just folded the paper and slid it into his coat.

We were dragged through the streets and thrown into a cell. Cold stone. Thick bars. The kind of place that smelled like old rust and worse memories.

Fein grumbled as he paced. "You'd think we murdered someone."

I stayed seated. Thinking. Not just about the arrest but about the man who had pulled Elara away. About the log I'd seen back in the potion shop.

Garret Halven.

The name hit harder now.

We spent the night in that cell. 

And then morning came.

The guards returned but with someone.

The man who bailed us out was tall, graceful, and clearly noble. The elven kind. Cloaked in rich fabric, soft-spoken, eyes too clever for his smile.

He walked us out with papers already signed, as if he knew we'd be there. As if he planned it.

Outside, he turned to Ryazania and offered his hand. "Your work. That portrait. Was it you?"

Ryazania nodded, her voice steady. "I made them all."

He seemed impressed. Curious. Fascinated.

She told him about the press. The machine. And the moment he heard the word, I saw something shift behind his eyes, like a merchant hearing the word treasure.

He asked to see it.

And we agreed.

On the way back to the house, I took the lead and asked the guards for our gear. The elf had already secured it. My satchel. Ryazania's sword. Even Fein's dagger.

Efficient.

Too efficient.

As we walked, I glanced up.

Movement on the rooftops.

Multiple shadows. Quiet. Watching. Tailing us.

I didn't say anything.

Bodyguards, maybe.

Or spies.

We reached the forge. Ryazania showed him the press. Explained how it worked. He stood beside her like a scholar seeing a relic come to life.

Then came the talk of rights.

Of replication.

Ryazania handled it well, offered him access but not ownership. A share per use. A contract.

He agreed.

Fein stepped in, voice firm. "We built this with risk. We lost someone to make it real. We're not making another."

The elf nodded. Said nothing more about it.

Then he left.

As he reached the door, I stepped forward.

"Thank you," I said.

He smiled and leaned in close.

"Investigate Garret Halven any further," he whispered, "and you'll find yourselves in over your heads."

Then he walked out.

Just like that.

A carriage rolled up and whisked him away like he hadn't just whispered a threat into my ear.

Fein waved, cheerful. "Thanks again, sir."

The elf didn't look back.

I stood there a moment longer. Heart cold.

So he was one of them.

How deep did this go?

Later, back in the forge, I turned to the others.

"Elara," I asked. "Who was that man with you? The one who pulled you away before the knights grabbed us?"

Her brow creased. "The guy that messed with my husband...."

Vengir looked up, his expression sharpening. "That bastard? Garret Halven? He's the one who insulted Tawl when I was buying the aether infused metal."

Elara nodded. "He said he was trying to keep me from being arrested. Told me not to get involved."

I sat back, confused.

If he was with them… if he poisoned Elara… then why?

Why protect her?

And what exactly was he planning now?

I didn't have answers.

I can't piece everything together, something is missing.