House of Blood

The stone courtyards of the main Citadel campus glowed beneath thousands of floating paper lanterns.

Golden lights drifted beneath the arches, illuminating carved pillars, slate rooftops, and the banners of the academy’s six major factions. Across the paved walkways, cadets, faculty members, and faction representatives celebrated the annual Citadel Lantern Jubilee.

Three nights remained before the trial finals.

For one evening, at least, the Citadel appeared determined to pretend its foundations were not riddled with conspiracies, missing records, and illegal laboratories.

Cell One occupied a stone table near the central fountain.

Casper dropped a wooden tray loaded with roasted meat skewers and spiced bread onto the table.

”The merchant booths are selling roasted fowl at triple the normal price. They call it jubilee inflation.”

”The Merchant faction controls the festival’s food supply routes,” Lyra explained, adjusting her focus staff. ”They raise prices whenever demand exceeds seventy percent of projected supply.”

Casper stared at her.

”That explanation doesn’t make the price any less criminal.”

”It makes it predictable.”

”Wonderful. I’ll inform my empty purse.”

Castor reached across the table and took a skewer.

”Stop complaining and eat. If the prices rise any further, we can submit a formal grievance after the finals.”

”By then, they’ll charge us for the privilege of complaining.”

Solene sat at the head of the table, her white cape draped over her chair. Her blue eyes surveyed the courtyard, lingering on the security marshals patrolling the perimeter.

”The festival is a distraction. The High Council increased night patrols by fifty percent across Sectors Two and Three.”

”They’re searching for anyone connected to Alistair’s laboratory,” Castor observed. ”The arrests shook the faculty.”

”And the library’s ward records show several unexplained mana fluctuations over the past two days,” Lyra added.

Her gaze shifted toward Valen.

He stood two paces behind Solene’s left shoulder, his dark wool coat buttoned to the collar and black linen blindfold concealing his upper face. Beneath his left sleeve, the dark-mithril suppressor guard remained locked around his forearm.

His fingers rested lightly on his leather equipment binder.

”The security patrols are concentrated in the wrong sector,” he stated.

Solene turned.

”Where should they be concentrated?”

”The western service tunnel connecting the library basement to the outer perimeter wall. Its structural weight sensors recorded two unlisted entries twenty minutes ago.”

Lyra straightened.

”Two entries? That tunnel should be sealed outside authorized maintenance periods.”

”It is.”

”Then how did anyone get inside?”

”By entering.”

Casper slowly lowered his skewer.

”Thank you, Valen. That has clarified absolutely nothing.”

”The access records are incomplete,” Valen continued. ”Either someone bypassed the sensor array or deliberately disabled it. Given the timing, the latter is more likely.”

Solene’s expression hardened.

”Why wasn’t this reported?”

”I submitted a preliminary notice.”

”And?”

”The security office acknowledged receipt.”

Casper frowned.

”That sounds reasonable.”

”They classified it as a routine maintenance discrepancy.”

Casper looked toward the nearest patrol.

”Of course they did.”

Before Solene could respond, a tall figure emerged from beneath the central archway.

Gareth Vance approached in a silver-trimmed marshal’s coat, his jaw set and his expression severe. Two junior marshals followed three paces behind him, their hands resting on their broadsword hilts.

He stopped five feet from the table.

”Princess Solene.”

His eyes passed over Casper and Castor before settling on Valen.

”And the clerk.”

Solene rose slowly.

”Marshal Vance. You’re interrupting our evening meal.”

”I am executing campus security orders.”

”The curfew hasn’t begun.”

”Then consider this a matter of military jurisdiction.”

Gareth ignored her and addressed Valen.

”Scribe Valen, you’re summoned to the High Marshal’s office immediately.”

Valen remained motionless.

”Under which administrative article?”

”Article Twelve, concerning unregistered persons operating within restricted subterranean facilities.”

Gareth raised his voice, attracting attention from nearby tables.

”We found identifying impressions on the access controls to Sub-Vault Seven. Furthermore, an informant connected to the library archives identified you by a very specific name during the attack two nights ago.”

Casper stood abruptly.

His hands dropped toward his twin arming swords.

”What are you talking about, Vance? He’s been with our cell throughout the scheduled trials.”

”Quiet, cadet!”

Gareth never looked at him.

”The informant stated that the man responsible for the attack was not a clerk named Valen.”

He paused deliberately.

”The attacker was addressed as Valerian Prim Sanguis.”

The name fell across the table like an anvil.

For a moment, the festival continued around them in a distant, unreal world.

A lantern drifted overhead.

Someone laughed near the fountain.

Then silence spread through the nearest groups of cadets.

Lyra’s breath caught.

Casper stared at Gareth, his hands frozen near his swords. Castor slowly lowered his skewer, his massive shoulders tightening beneath his dark doublet.

Solene turned toward Valen.

The missing birth registries. The sealed execution records. His impossible tactical calculations. His physical strength. The way he spoke about the guillotine as though describing a familiar mechanism.

Piece by piece, the scattered fragments assembled into a truth she had not wanted to recognize.

”Valerian Prim Sanguis,” she repeated softly. ”The seventh child of House Sanguis. The boy executed on the guillotine ten years ago.”

Valen did not move.

He neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

Gareth’s mouth twisted into a harsh smile.

”You see? The royal archives list him as dead, yet a ghost walks freely inside the Citadel. He’s tampered with restricted vaults, interfered with alchemical investigations, and concealed his identity while operating under the academy’s protection.”

He straightened.

”We have reason to believe he’s been feeding information to hostile factions. Whatever he claims to be, his presence constitutes a security threat.”

His smile widened.

”Seize him.”

The junior marshals advanced, drawing heavy iron suppression manacles from their belts. Binding runes flickered across the devices, ready to disrupt their prisoner’s mana circulation.

Solene moved immediately.

”Step away from the table, Marshal.”

Her voice had turned icy.

She drew her narrow rapier three inches from its scabbard.

”Cell One operates under a direct imperial mandate from Sector Zero. You will not touch my scribe without a signed warrant from the High Chancellor.”

”The High Chancellor’s authority is superseded by military tribunal when treason is involved!” Gareth shouted.

He drew his broadsword.

Steel rang against its brass fittings.

”Take him!”

The two marshals lunged.

One reached for Valen’s left wrist while the other attempted to seize his right arm. Their manacles opened between their hands.

Valen did not reach for a weapon.

He moved once.

A precise step carried him between the attackers. His left hand caught the first marshal by the shoulder plate; his right seized the second man’s armored arm.

Rather than resist their momentum, Valen redirected it.

He twisted both arms inward, turning the attackers toward each other.

CRASH!

Their helmets collided with a deafening metallic clang.

The manacles clattered across the stone paving. Both marshals staggered, their legs buckling before they collapsed unconscious beside the table.

Valen released them and straightened his coat.

Not a single lantern above the table had stopped swaying.

Gareth stumbled backward.

”You fool! You just assaulted imperial marshals!”

Valen stepped into the open space between the tables.

”The marshals initiated physical contact while attempting an unauthorized restraint.”

”You expect the tribunal to accept that excuse?”

”I expect the tribunal to review the sequence of events.”

Gareth tightened his grip on his sword.

”You think this is a matter of paperwork?”

”Most matters become paperwork eventually.”

For an instant, Gareth looked genuinely uncertain whether Valen was mocking him.

Then the dark-mithril suppressor guard pulsed.

Crimson light shone beneath Valen’s left sleeve.

The air around his arm distorted, and the sounds of the festival seemed to recede.

Nearby lanterns flickered as an oppressive pressure rolled across the courtyard. Cadets instinctively stepped backward. Others froze, their bodies reacting to a presence their minds could not identify.

Valen’s three dragonic cores remained contained, but the guard’s brief pulse betrayed the strain of suppressing them.

Gareth felt it.

His sword dipped a fraction.

For the first time since approaching the table, he looked less like a marshal executing an arrest and more like a man who had discovered that his target was considerably more dangerous than his orders suggested.

”The name is correct, Marshal,” Valen said quietly.

”Valerian Prim Sanguis.”

He paused.

”And the administrative records are indeed incorrect.”

The courtyard fell silent.

Even the musicians near the eastern arcade stopped playing.

Gareth recovered first.

”Guards! Seize the traitor!”

Twenty armed security marshals dropped from the surrounding rooftops and courtyard arches, landing on the stone paving with practiced precision.

Their swords were drawn before their boots struck the ground.

Shield-bearers formed an outer line, interlocking their shields into a continuous barrier. The remaining marshals filled the gaps, completing a circle around Cell One’s table.

The celebration had become a military cordon.

Cadets scrambled away. Merchants abandoned their stalls, while faculty members shouted for the crowd to clear the courtyard.

Above them, thousands of lanterns continued drifting beneath the darkening sky.

Solene stepped forward, positioning herself beside Valen.

Her rapier rose, its point angled toward Gareth.

”Try it.”

Her blue eyes burned with fury.

”You will explain to the High Council why you attempted to arrest a member of my cell without a signed warrant, violated our operational mandate, and disrupted an academy-sanctioned festival.”

Gareth raised his broadsword.

”You can explain your disobedience to the tribunal alongside him.”

The shield wall began to close.

Castor moved to Solene’s right, gripping his war-mattock with both hands. Casper drew his twin arming swords, his earlier humor replaced by a hard, focused expression. Lyra’s focus staff illuminated with blue geometric runes as she began tracing the approaching formation’s mana signatures.

The remaining members of Cell One closed ranks around Valen.

No one reached for the food.

Then the fountain behind the marshals erupted with light.

A blinding flash of white radiance illuminated the courtyard.

The stone paving trembled.

Three deep, resonant chimes rolled across the Citadel.

BOOOONG.

The first bell silenced every voice.

BOOOONG.

The second sent ripples through the fountain water as the floating lanterns shuddered in midair.

BOOOONG.

The third chime vibrated through the windows of the surrounding towers.

Every sanctuary ward in Sector Zero ignited simultaneously.

White symbols blazed across the stone arches. Silver inscriptions along the courtyard’s perimeter flared to life, and the marshals’ shield wall halted as their weapons began to hum.

Gareth turned sharply toward the fountain.

His expression drained of color.

A column of white light rose above the water, piercing the lantern-filled sky.

Then a voice rang across the courtyard.

”By authority of the High Sanctuary, all military action within the Citadel’s central grounds is to cease immediately.”

The voice was neither loud nor angry.

It did not need to be.

Every person present recognized the authority behind it.

The light around the fountain intensified.

And somewhere within the sanctuary, something had decided that the confrontation with Valerian Prim Sanguis would not be settled by Gareth Vance’s sword.