Strongest Incubus System

The following night, Arven’s southern district looked even more abandoned than the records suggested. The streets were wide, made for cargo carts, but almost empty. Some warehouses kept lanterns lit at their entrances, more out of habit than any real movement. Others remained closed, with reinforced doors and windows covered by boards. The crisis had emptied that part of the city even before the fall of the former Duchess, and now every idle building seemed to carry the question of how long Arven would still need before it could breathe properly again.

The old warehouse stood at the end of a side street, near a narrow canal used to transport smaller goods. The facade was simple, made of dark stone and thick wood, with the faded symbol of an old transport company above the entrance. According to Aria’s records, that company had served for years as a front to move cargo in the former Duchess’s name. Officially, the place was empty. In practice, there was faint light behind some cracks, fresh footprints in the mud, and far too many men pretending not to be watching anything.

Morgana arrived in a carriage without a conspicuous crest, accompanied by Ingrivid and four handpicked guards. It was not an escort large enough to look like a threat, but also not small enough to look naive. She wore dark, simple clothes, with Arven’s crest pinned in a brooch near her shoulder. The sword was at her waist. Not for theater. After the attempted arrest, no one had dared suggest she go unarmed to a meeting.

Across the street, hidden on the upper floor of an old empty workshop, Damon watched through a narrow opening between two boards. Ester stood behind him, arms crossed, expression closed, and absolutely no patience left. Elizabeth remained near the opposite wall, beside two discreet men she had introduced as representatives of the merchant guilds. The retired scribe from the Council, a thin old man named Bertram, sat on a crate, quietly complaining about the cold, age, and the lack of proper chairs for neutral witnesses.

”You are breathing colder,” Ester said, low enough not to draw attention.

Damon did not take his eyes off the street. ”I see men on the roof.”

”How many?”

”Two on the warehouse. One on the building beside it. Maybe crossbowmen.”

Elizabeth approached the opening a little, but did not try to look through it. ”Then Havelock came prepared for more than a conversation.”

”Or he prepared men to provoke the reaction he wants,” Damon said.

Ester placed two fingers on his shoulder, feeling the flow of Qi without asking permission. ”Control.”

”I know.”

”Knowing is not enough.”

Damon breathed slowly. The cold in his chest wanted to rise. Not like before, not like an uncontrolled explosion, but like a natural reflex. Morgana was entering a dangerous place, and every part of his body said staying still was stupidity. The elemental root pulsed deeply, asking for movement. He guided it downward, as Ester had taught him. He did not repress it. He merely gave the cold an internal path.

On the street, Morgana stopped before the warehouse door. A man opened it from within. It was not Havelock. He wore administrator’s clothes, short hair, black gloves, and an expression far too clean for someone involved in dirty business. Ingrivid spoke to him first. The distance kept Damon from hearing clearly, but Aria’s recording crystals had been positioned in three places: one in an abandoned cart, another at the edge of the canal, and the third fixed beneath the edge of the opposite roof. If everything worked, every important word would be recorded.

”He will not appear,” Damon murmured.

Elizabeth looked at him. ”Havelock?”

”Yes. This type sends other men first.”

”Perhaps. But if he wants to make sure Morgana is provoked, he may be nearby.”

Ester looked toward the opening. ”Nearby does not mean visible.”

Morgana entered the warehouse. Ingrivid went with her. Two guards remained outside, two entered. The door closed behind them. Damon stayed motionless, but the wood beneath his hand began turning white at the edges. Ester saw it and lightly tapped his fingers.

”Damon.”

He released the board.

”I am fine.”

”You are freezing a wall.”

”It provoked me.”

”Do not start.”

Inside the warehouse, the meeting began like every political trap pretending to be a negotiation: with politeness. The nearest crystal transmitted the voices through a small device prepared by Aria. It was not perfect, but it was enough. The man with black gloves introduced himself as Marius Feld, an intermediary agent of Lord Havelock. He claimed Havelock was indisposed and that he spoke on behalf of legitimate commercial interests. Morgana allowed him to finish the entire sentence before answering, which Damon considered proof of spiritual evolution.

”How convenient that Lord Havelock is indisposed right after trying to arrest a duchess with a false order,” Morgana said.

Marius was unmoved. ”We do not recognize that version of events.”

”Naturally.”

”Your Grace should be careful with accusations. After the incident with Baron Voss, there is real concern among neighboring houses about the way Arven conducts its negotiations.”

”Real concern, or fear that I will find more fraud?”

”That will depend on how you choose to act tonight.”

Damon felt the cold rise a little.

Ester squeezed his shoulder.

He breathed.

Inside the warehouse, Morgana walked to the table placed at the center. There were papers on it, probably a prepared proposal. Ingrivid stood behind and to the left, hand near her sword, eyes analyzing every corner. Damon saw shadows moving on the upper walkways of the building. More men. Maybe eight. Maybe ten. It was not a negotiation. It was a stage.

Marius continued, his voice polite. ”The proposal is simple. Arven temporarily recognizes the validity of the contested contracts, suspends accusations against Halbrecht and Verden, and accepts external financial supervision for six months. In exchange, your creditors agree not to request immediate intervention from the Council of Guarantees.”

Morgana looked at the paper.

Then at him.

”You want me to hand Arven’s administration to the men who profited from manipulating my father.”

”We want stability.”

”You want a leash.”

Marius smiled. ”Emotional words do not help your position.”

Morgana placed a hand on the table. ”Then let us use simple words. No.”

The silence inside the warehouse changed. Even from a distance, Damon noticed. Men moved. Ingrivid did too. Morgana’s guards became more alert. Marius, however, kept smiling. Perhaps he had expected that refusal. Perhaps he needed it.

”I am sorry to hear that,” he said. ”In that case, there are other concerns that must be addressed.”

A side door opened.

Three men entered, bringing Caldrick Voss.

He was alive, but clearly terrified. His hands were tied, there was a cut on his brow, and his expensive clothes looked as if they had been put on in a hurry. Damon went tense. Not because he liked the baron, but because he immediately understood his function there. Caldrick was the witness linking Havelock to the previous attempt. If he died or recanted everything under coercion, part of Morgana’s advantage would disappear.

Morgana did not move, but her voice became colder. ”Release him.”

Marius inclined his head. ”Baron Voss wishes to correct a declaration given under threat.”

Caldrick raised his eyes to Morgana. He was trembling so much he could barely stand. ”I-I... I was pressured. The declaration... the declaration was made out of fear.”

Ingrivid took a step forward. ”He is clearly under coercion.”

”As Lord Damon coerced House Voss yesterday?” Marius asked. ”Interesting argument.”

Elizabeth, in the workshop, closed her eyes for an instant. ”They want to reverse the accusation.”

Damon said quietly, ”They want to force Morgana to react.”

Ester answered in the same tone, ”And they want to force you to enter.”

Inside the warehouse, Marius raised a hand. One of the men drew a knife and placed it against the side of Caldrick’s neck. He did not cut. Not yet. Just enough to make the next step clear.

”Morgana Arven,” Marius said, without any real emotion, ”you will renounce the false declaration obtained from Voss and sign the supervision proposal. Otherwise, regrettably, Baron Voss may die during a desperate attempt by your guard to silence him.”

Ingrivid drew her sword.

At the same time, men on the walkways aimed crossbows at her.

Damon was already standing.

Ester held his arm.

”Not before the signal.”

”He is going to kill Caldrick.”

”If you enter now, you give them exactly what they want.”

Damon looked through the opening. Morgana was motionless. Ingrivid ready. Caldrick crying. Marius calm. The crossbowmen waiting. He could cross the street in seconds. He could freeze half the warehouse before they understood. But Ester was right. If he entered at that moment, Havelock would win even while losing men. It would be the perfect narrative: Morgana refused, witness dead or threatened, Damon invading and destroying everything.

Inside the warehouse, Morgana raised her hand.

Ingrivid did not attack.

Morgana looked at Caldrick. ”Baron Voss. Are you correcting your declaration of your own free will?”

Caldrick opened his mouth.

The knife pressed harder.

He cried. ”Y-yes.”

”And Lord Havelock did not coerce you?”

”No.”

”And those men behind you are not threatening your life?”

Marius smiled. ”Duchess, this is theater.”

Morgana smiled too.

Small.

Humorless.

”Yes. It is.”

In the next instant, a blue light glowed beneath the table.

The recording crystal hidden there activated a secondary rune, not to record sound, but to cast a short projection. Havelock’s voice, recorded in the letter sent to Caldrick, echoed through the warehouse in a distorted, but understandable tone: ”If Arven suspects, we need to end the matter before the Duchess gathers support. The ice man is a problem, but also an opportunity.”

Marius lost his smile.

For a short time.

But he lost it.

Morgana took a step back. ”What is happening here is being recorded and witnessed. You may continue, if you wish. But every word of yours now belongs to the Council you tried to falsify.”

The first crossbowman fired.

Not at Morgana.

At the crystal.

Ingrivid moved before the bolt arrived. Her sword cut the projectile in the air and, in the same movement, she pulled Morgana back. Arven’s guards advanced to form a barrier. Caldrick screamed. Marius retreated, and the men on the walkways finally abandoned the performance.

”Now?” Damon asked.

Ester released his arm.

”Now.”

Damon jumped through the window.

The wood broke behind him, but he was already in the air, crossing the street like a cold shadow. The first crossbowman on the roof turned too late. Damon landed on the opposite ledge, grabbed the man by the chest, and threw him against the chimney. The impact knocked him out. The second tried to draw a dagger, but Damon created a short ice blade in his hand and cut the crossbow in half before striking the man’s chest with the weapon’s hilt.

He did not kill him.

He did not need to.

He dropped from the roof into the courtyard in a leap, and the ground cracked beneath his feet when he landed. The warehouse’s main door was locked from the inside. Damon did not try to open it. He placed his palm on the wood, breathed once, and froze the hinges. Then he kicked.

The door fell inward.

Everyone looked.

Marius went pale.

Damon entered the warehouse covered in ice fragments, with the short sword in his hand and the cold carefully contained around his body like a threat held on a leash. He did not look uncontrolled. That was the worst part. There was no explosion, no shout, no theatrical fury. Only a very cold, very calm man entering the room after the enemy had revealed its own intention before witnesses.

”Good evening,” Damon said.

Aria, had she been there, would have approved.

The first man tried to attack Caldrick to silence him. Damon raised a hand, and a line of ice crossed the floor like a serpent, trapping the attacker’s boots in place. Ingrivid took advantage and knocked him down with the pommel of her sword. The crossbowmen on the walkways fired at Damon. He lifted the short blade, but did not try to block everything with the weapon. He created fine structures in the air, small plates with internal ribs, imperfect, but sufficient. The bolts struck them and lost force, falling broken onto the floor.

Ester would have complained about the symmetry.

He would complain later.

Damon advanced.

It was not a massacre. It was dismantling. The first man received a blow to the stomach and fell breathless. The second had his sword frozen up to the hilt and abandoned the weapon screaming. The third tried to flee through a side door and found Ingrivid on the other side, which may have been worse. Two on the walkways were brought down by ice spears that did not pierce flesh; they merely crossed cloaks, belts, and armor plates, pinning them against beams like furious insects.

Marius tried to run.

Morgana blocked his path with her sword drawn.

”No.”

He retreated, raising his hands. ”Your Grace, think about what you are doing. This can be explained.”

”I know,” Morgana said. ”It will be explained before the Council.”

Marius looked at Damon, then at Morgana, then at the fallen men. The calculation on his face changed. He realized the performance had failed. The witnesses were alive. Caldrick was alive. Havelock’s letter had been projected. The crystals were still recording. The ice man had entered only after the first shot. The narrative of coercion was crumbling.

So he did the only thing an intelligent coward would do.

He tried to buy time.

”I can give you Havelock.”

Morgana did not lower her sword. ”You can.”

”But I need protection.”

Damon approached. ”You are asking for protection after putting a knife to a witness’s neck?”

Marius swallowed dryly. ”I follow orders.”

”Every coward says that when he loses.”

Morgana looked at Damon, a silent warning. He stopped. Not because he did not want to frighten the man, but because she was right. Marius was worth more speaking than trembling on the floor.

Caldrick, still tied, fell sitting when one of the guards cut his ropes. He was crying again, but now seemed less worried about shame. ”I said he forced me. I said it! It was Havelock. It was Havelock and Soren Vale. They had men in the Council, copies of seals, names of Arven guards.”

Morgana looked at him. ”Names.”

Caldrick nodded far too quickly. ”I will give them. I will give everything. Just do not leave me with them.”

Damon looked at Morgana. ”Seems like the night paid off.”

”It seems,” she said.

Outside, footsteps approached. Arven guards entered with Elizabeth, Ester, and the neutral witnesses. Bertram, the retired scribe, looked at the broken door, at the men trapped by ice, at the overturned table, at Caldrick crying, and at Damon standing in the middle of it all.

The old man sighed.

”I knew I should have stayed retired.”

Elizabeth entered right behind him, evaluating the room with quick eyes. ”Everyone alive?”

Damon answered, ”Unfortunately for some.”

Ester went straight to him, grabbed his wrist, and began examining the flow of Qi before even asking anything. ”You jumped out of a window.”

”It was the fastest route.”

”You broke a door.”

”It was locked.”

”You created defensive plates in the air.”

”See? Training paying off.”

She looked at him as if considering hitting him with her own medical folder. ”I will yell later.”

”That is progress.”

Elizabeth approached Morgana. ”Do we have the recording?”

Morgana picked up one of the crystals from beneath the table, still glowing. ”We do. He reacted to the projection and ordered the attack.”

Aria entered a few seconds later, breathless, followed by two guards. ”I know I was supposed to stay in the archives, but the archives were attacked by two idiots and I resolved it quickly.”

Everyone looked at her.

Aria raised a bundle of papers. ”And I found this on one of them. A list of documents that were supposed to be burned tonight. Three Halbrecht contracts, two seal records, and correspondence with Soren Vale.”

Damon looked at Ester. ”She disobeyed too.”

Ester answered without looking at him. ”I will yell at her later.”

Aria smiled. ”I accept yelling if I can say I saved evidence.”

Morgana released a long breath. For the first time that night, her face showed the size of the pressure she had been holding. The trap had worked. Not perfectly. Nothing worked perfectly with that group. But it worked enough. They had Marius, Caldrick, captured men, witnesses, recording, the attack on the archives, and documents linking the operation to Havelock.

Havelock was not brought down yet.

But now he was bleeding.

Ingrivid approached Morgana. ”Are you hurt?”

”No.”

”Are you sure?”

”Ingrivid.”

”I will ask again when we are out of here.”

Morgana almost smiled. ”Of course you will.”

Damon looked around the warehouse interior. Part of the floor was frozen, but not too much. Some men trembled trapped in their own armor, but they were breathing. The door was destroyed, yes, and one beam of the walkway had cracked. Considering the circumstances, he thought that was almost delicate.

Ester followed his gaze. ”Do not be proud.”

”I did not kill anyone.”

”Do you want a prize for that?”

”Maybe a compliment.”

”No.”

”You are repetitive.”

”And you are tired.”

Damon was going to deny it, but his body chose that moment to truly grow heavy. The adrenaline began to recede, leaving a deep stiffness in his muscles. The elemental root was still stable, but the meridians in his right arm vibrated because of the plates created too quickly. He took a deep breath and accepted that, this time, perhaps it was better not to argue.

”I am tired,” he said.

Ester blinked, suspicious.

Aria looked too. ”Wow. He admitted it without torture.”

Elizabeth, beside Morgana, commented, ”Write that in the records. It may be useful in the Council.”

Morgana walked to Damon, sheathing her sword. ”Thank you for waiting for the signal.”

He looked at her. ”It was difficult.”

”I know.”

”But it worked.”

”It worked.”

For a few seconds, the two remained silent in the middle of the destroyed warehouse. Around them, guards arrested men, Elizabeth organized witnesses, Aria spoke far too quickly about saved documents, Ester prepared a medical scolding, and Ingrivid supervised every corner as if she intended to declare war on the entire building.

Morgana held the recording crystal tightly.

”Now we have something real.”

Damon nodded. ”Now Havelock will run.”

”Yes.”

”Then we need to be faster.”

Morgana looked at him.

Damon smiled faintly, tired, cold, and satisfied.

”After I sleep,” he added.

Ester, behind him, murmured, ”Miracle.”

Morgana laughed softly.

And for the first time that night, despite the trap, the blood narrowly avoided, and the political war still growing around Arven, Damon felt that perhaps they had turned the table.

Not won.

Not yet.

But turned it.

And, for that night, it was enough.