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"One question, President Cole." Nina Ashby stared at Harrison with the expression of someone who'd decided that professionalism could wait. "Is Luke Mercer a relative of yours? A close relative?"
What she was really asking, and what every fiber of her professional training was barel y preventing her from saying out loud, was: Is this kid your illegitimate son?
Because nothing else explained the level of favoritism she was witnessing. Direct enrollment, bypassing every standard the Association had maintained for decades. And now an elite membership promotion that had taken Nina herself five years of grinding, handed to someone who'd been a member for less time than it took most people to find the men's room.
"What exactly goes on in that head of yours?" Harrison's eye twitched. He could hear the unspoken accusation as clearly as if she'd screamed it. If I had a son this talented, do you think I'd be hiding it?
Part of him wished it were true. But if it were, his wife would have killed him long before the secret got out. No magic card required. Just bare hands and righteous fury.
"Luke's situation is special," Harrison said, choosing his words carefully. "What he's accomplished exceeds the standard for elite membership by a margin that I can't fully explain to you right now. His clearance level, and yours, don't allow for that conversation."
It was the truth. Original Card crafting was information that could reshape political dynamics across the entire Eastern Region. Nina Ashby was a competent secretary, but she didn't have the security clearance to touch that level of classified intelligence.
"Process the elite promotion and submit the report to the Capital branch. Non-standard promotions require registration with the main office." Harrison's tone shifted back to professional. "And add Luke's name to the Youth Training Competition roster. The previous draft is outdated."
"Understood, President Cole." Nina could feel the invisible wall Harrison had put up. She had questions. Dozens of them. But the president's expression made it clear that continuing to ask would cross a line she couldn't uncross.
She left the office with her curiosity screaming and her mouth shut.
-----
Ashenmere. Capital Association Headquarters.
"President Hargrove, the quarterly elite membership reports from the satellite city branches have arrived."
"Leave them. I'll get to them when I'm done here." Edmund Hargrove didn't look up from his desk.
Edmund Hargrove. President of the Ashenmere Capital Branch of the Card Master Association. Immortal Realm. In the Capital's power hierarchy, only Aldric Ashford outranked him.
He'd held the position for longer than most Card Masters had been alive. Not because of politics or connections, but because nobody in the Eastern Region could do the job better. The Capital branch coordinated twelve satellite cities, managed resource allocation across the region, and served as the Association's highest administrative authority outside the national headquarters. It required an Immortal Realm Card Master's lifespan just to accumulate enough institutional knowledge to run it competently.
His secretary placed the files within arm's reach and withdrew without a sound. She'd done this enough times to know exactly where he liked his documents and exactly how much noise he tolerated. The answer to the latter was: none.
Hours passed. Hargrove finished his current workload, closed his eyes for a moment's rest, then reached for the reports.
"Ninety percent pass rate on standard applications. Solid." He flipped through the satellite cities' submissions efficiently, approving most with barely a glance. The system worked. Most promotions were routine.
Then he reached Ashenvale's file, and his hand stopped.
"Direct enrollment bypassing standard examination. Promoted to elite membership within days of joining." Hargrove read the summary twice. "This doesn't sound like Harrison Cole."
He'd known Harrison for decades. The man was allergic to rule-breaking. He ran the Ashenvale branch like a monastery, every regulation followed to the letter, every applicant held to identical standards regardless of background. For Harrison to break protocol once was noteworthy. Breaking it twice, for the same person, within days of each other, was unprecedented.
Hargrove opened a communication channel. Harrison's face appeared on the light screen almost immediately, wearing the calm expression of a man who'd been expecting this call.
"Harrison. You don't seem surprised to hear from me."
"I'd be more surprised if you didn't call, President Hargrove." Harrison shrugged. "I assume this is about Luke Mercer."
"Walk me through it."
Harrison did, carefully. He explained Luke's performance in the unified exam. He described the crafting process, the Creation Pillar, the World Transformation phenomenon. He confirmed that Luke had produced an Original Six-Star card spirit, a Spellcaster-type Original Card that was currently his primary combat asset.
What he did not mention was the Red-Eyes Black Star Dragon. Only Victor, Harlow, and Harrison himself knew about that card. He certainly didn't mention the Eye of Timaeus, which only he had witnessed.
The omission was deliberate. The Capital branch fielded its own team in the Youth Training Competition. Harrison was cooperating with his superior, not handing ammunition to a competitor.
Approximately thirty minutes later, the briefing ended. Harrison fell silent and waited.
"An Original Six-Star card." Hargrove's eyes gleamed with a light that hadn't been there at the start of the conversation. "If I were in your position, I'd have done the same thing."
Before this call, Luke Mercer had been a curiosity. An anomaly in a satellite city's paperwork. Now he was something else entirely.
Edmund Hargrove was Immortal Realm. Like Aldric Ashford, he carried knowledge that was restricted to his tier and above. The Millennium Powerhouse legend. The thousand-year pattern. The historical precedent set by the Night Empress and the Supreme.
He understood, immediately and completely, what an Original Card crafter appearing in the current era could mean.
And like Aldric, he said nothing about it to Harrison. A Sovereign Realm branch president, however capable, was not cleared for that information.
"You've done well, Harrison. Ashenvale is fortunate to have found someone with this level of potential." Hargrove approved the promotion with a sweep of his hand. "I look forward to seeing what he does next."
The communication ended. Hargrove sat in silence for a moment, processing the implications.
Then a knock at his door. He glanced at the time and shook his head with a faint smile. "Come in."
The door opened, and a young woman stepped through.
Sky-blue sleeveless dress that fell past her knees, hugging a figure with proportions that most people would call unfair. Skin that was porcelain-pale with a hint of rose underneath. Her face wasn't the sharp, angular beauty of someone like Selene Dawnford. It was softer, rounder, with a touch of baby fat in the cheeks that gave her an approachable warmth. A face that made people want to pinch her cheeks before they remembered they were talking to a Card Master.
Silver-rimmed glasses without frames sat on her nose, completing an image that was equal parts cute and quietly intellectual.
"You're right on time," Hargrove said. "As always."