The invitation arrived at midnight.
Kaelen was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his chambers, pushing thin threads of mana through his damaged pathways, when the knock came. The floorboards were cold beneath him, worn smooth by decades of boots and pacing and the slow decay of a house that had once been grand. Truly a house that was falling could no longer afford the repair. A single candle guttered on the desk, its flame throwing long, wavering shadows across the walls. The air smelled of tallow and old paper and the faint, metallic tang of the mana he had been coaxing through his veins it tasted like copper on the back of his tongue, and hum that lived now beneath his skin pulsed.
Three sharp raps. Precise. It was not Rin's careful, nor Markus's heavy fist.
Someone else.
Someone that made the hum spike with warning before his physical senses could register. .
Kaelen rose slowly, his joints protesting. His thighs still ached but now with a deep constant soreness, into the bone. He crossed to the door in bare feet, the cold wood pressing against his soles, and pulled it open.
The corridor was quite, he looked around and noticed that the guards were down, he walked over and one he confirmed they were breathing he relaxed, he took a step forward and the Amber on his neck glowed and he felt familiar mana covering his face, he then realized the guards had been hit with some drug.
He looked around the corridor, the torch brackets on the walls held only shadow. The air was still and cool, carrying the distant scent of snow from a crack somewhere in the outer wall. If one ignored thebodies on the ground it would be called a peaceful night.
He turned back to go to his room after ensuring there were no assassin's, he then noticed on the floor, folded into a precise square, was a letter. The paper was thick, creamy and expensive. Sealed with black wax. No crest. No mark. Just the wax, smooth and dark and the paper beneath it crisp enough to draw blood.
He crouched, picked it up., he looked around once more then closed the door, turned the lock, and broke the seal.
---
Caelus Verant.
Three assassination attempts. And you survived all of them I admit you are good but come back, or more will happen.
Come to the manor tomorrow night.
We will be waiting.
---
Kaelen read the letter twice. The candle flickered. The hum beneath his skin grew louder.
What do they mean three assassination attempts he only experienced one.
The system flickered:
[Letter Source: The Veiled Chorus – Cult of the Sleeping King]
[Intent: Unknown – Contains both threat and summons]
[Threat Assessment: Severe – The Veiled Chorus operates outside conventional power structures. Their members are known for silence, patience, and collective action. They do not make idle threats.]
He crumpled the letter. The paper crushed in his fist, creasing along invisible lines, the black wax flaking off in brittle shards that scattered across the floor like fallen teeth. The sound was sharp, final a small violence that satisfied something feral in his chest.
His temper has not been great lately maybe he needs to let loose.
He smoothed the letter flat against his thigh. The paper was warm now, warmed by his grip, and he could smell the faint residue of the wax burnt beeswax and something else, something smoky, something that reminded him of incense and old temples.
He folded it carefully, precisely, and tucked it into his coat pocket.
His fingers brushed the golden chain Lysander had given him. Still warm. Still humming, the drug was still in the air. The amber stone pressed against his chest like a second heart.
The system :
[Reminder: Caelus Verant was a patron of the Veiled Chorus. Donations totaling approximately 2,200,000 gold coins over three years.]
Kaelen blinked and sleepiness faded, he had been eating worse each day not trusting food in the estate and not affording to buy, sharing meals with Rin and Markus occasionally, while waiting for Markus to find a broker and get him money and someone had 2,200,000 gold of his.
Two point two million.
More still if he factored in the three properties the original Caelus had signed over in his enthusiasm a townhouse in the capital, a vineyard in the southern valleys, a warehouse near the docks that he had never visited and did not remember purchasing.
The cult had been using his money to fund... their trafficking, building temples. Definitely the same trafficking rings he had discussed with the protagonist.
And now they wanted him back. Or rather his money back.
Kaelen crossed to the small, mirror nailed to the wall above his washbasin. The glass was warped, old, streaked with water spots and the ghost of someone else's reflection. But he could see himself well enough.
The face that looked back was his but too naive. The jaw was softer than he would have liked, the cheekbones less sharp, the lips too full for a man who wanted to be taken seriously. The original Caelus had been pretty.
But Kaelen had worn this face for weeks now. He had starved it, slept too little, pushed it too hard. The softness was fading. Something leaner was emerging beneath.
It was a strange smile. It spread slowly, like honey poured into cold water thick, languid, It touched the corners of his mouth first, then his eyes, then something deeper behind them. In the warped glass, the candlelight caught his face at an angle, split it in two.
One half looked like an angel. Serene and forgiving.
The other half looked like a devil. Sharp and hungry.
He turned from the mirror.
There was no such thing as too much money. And if the Veiled Chorus thought they could threaten him into returning to their fold, they had severely miscalculated. He was not the original Caelus.
And he just happen to be broke.
Plus, he needed to finish his mission. The seal-breaker. The temple children. The midwinter assessment.
Kaelen turned back to his bed. Sprite was perched on the bedpost a small, dark shape against the darker room, its yellow eyes gleaming like twin coals. The creature had been watching him the entire time.
Seeing him move closer it jumped further up preventing the coming hug.
Sprite hissed a soft, wet sound, almost amused at his disappointment. Its tail flicked once, twice, and then it dropped , curling into a tight ball of fur and silence.
Kaelen lay down on the bed.
He stared at the ceiling as the hum lulled him.
The system flickered :
[Mission Update: The Veiled Chorus – New Objective Unlocked]
[Objective: Attend the summons. Extract your assets. ]
[Estimated wealth recovery: 900,000 gold coins ]
[Penalty: the cult keeps your money.]**
Kaelen laughed a short, sharp sound that echoed off the bare walls.
They used more than half of it.