Strongest Incubus System

Dawn arrived without asking permission, cold and pale over Arven’s rooftops. Damon woke before Ester knocked on the door, which, by itself, was a small triumph. He did not get up immediately. He spent several seconds staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the mansion waking: footsteps in the corridor, a door being carefully closed, the low voices of servants, the metal of armor being adjusted somewhere distant. The house felt alive, but not calm. It was like a wounded animal that had finally learned to keep its eyes open.

The elemental root pulsed slowly in his chest. The cold was still there, present in every breath, but it no longer pushed against his skin as before. Damon raised one hand and watched bluish lines appear beneath his fingers, faint, almost faded. He was better. Not normal, but better. The word normal seemed increasingly useless to describe anything in his life.

Two knocks came at the door.

”Come in,” he said.

Ester opened the door with a tray in one hand and the expression of someone who expected to find him trying to escape through the window. When she saw him still in bed, she stopped for a second. She did not smile. Ester would probably rather bite her own tongue than smile over something so simple.

”You are still lying down.”

”I am maturing.”

”Or you are tired.”

”Both things can coexist.”

She entered and placed the tray on the side table. There was bread, hot broth, a dark medicinal mixture, and a glass of blood treated with some essence he did not want to identify. Damon looked at the glass with distrust.

”Is this dragon blood?”

”No. You complained about the taste.”

”I complained about the smell.”

”You complained about both.”

”Fair.”

Ester sat in the nearby chair and held his wrist, as usual. The examination lasted longer than a simple check, but less than a complete medical scolding. Damon stayed quiet, allowing her Qi to pass through his meridians. The contact no longer hurt. It was still uncomfortable, because her energy always seemed to search for hidden mistakes, but there was no longer that desperate sensation of invasion from the first days.

”It is stable,” she said.

”Is that good?”

”It is acceptable.”

”One day you will say good and I may die of shock.”

”If you die from that, it will be embarrassing for me.”

Damon picked up the glass and drank without complaining. The taste was metallic, bitter, and slightly sweet. Terrible, but bearable. Ester watched until he finished everything, then pushed the broth closer with a look that needed no words. He ate as well, because once again, arguing seemed more exhausting than obeying.

”Any news?” he asked after a few spoonfuls.

”Aria spent the night copying recordings. Elizabeth sent the letters before dawn. Ingrivid confirmed Havelock did not leave through two of the main routes. The Merrow route is still being watched.”

”How much did you sleep?”

”You or me?”

”You.”

Ester was silent for half a second, enough to condemn her.

Damon pointed the spoon at her. ”Hypocrite.”

”I did not almost die for six months.”

”You spent six months not sleeping while keeping me alive.”

”Different matter.”

”Extremely similar matter.”

She narrowed her eyes. ”Eat.”

”I am eating.”

”Mouth closed.”

Damon decided to accept temporary defeat. When he finished, Ester allowed him to get up. Allowed was a strong word; she simply did not push him back into bed. He dressed in simple clothes, a dark cloak, and tied part of his white hair back, still irritated by its length. When he passed the mirror, he stopped for an instant. The man reflected there looked less sick than weeks before, but still strange. Colder. More serious. Less like the person he remembered being.

Ester noticed the pause, but did not comment. She merely opened the door.

The meeting room was already occupied when they arrived. Morgana stood beside the table, with the map of routes open. There was an untouched cup of coffee near her and a small stack of documents organized with a precision that probably belonged not to her, but to Elizabeth. Aria sat on the floor, leaning against a shelf, holding a recording crystal in one hand and a piece of bread in the other. Ingrivid remained near the window. Elizabeth was reading a newly arrived letter, her eyes racing over the lines with unsettling speed.

Morgana raised her eyes when Damon entered. ”Did you sleep?”

”Yes.”

”Truthfully?”

”Ask my jailer.”

Ester answered without changing her tone. ”He slept.”

Aria lifted the bread. ”Miracle confirmed.”

Elizabeth folded the letter and placed it on the table. ”We have a response from Mirath. My friend managed to trace two transfers linked to the commercial houses that purchased Arven’s debts. The money passed through Halbrecht accounts, but the true origin is not Havelock.”

Morgana went still. ”Whose?”

Elizabeth slid the letter to her. ”House Valcair.”

The name weighed down the room. Damon did not know enough about the local nobility to understand immediately, but he understood from the others’ reaction. Morgana stiffened. Ingrivid tightened her hand on the hilt of her sword. Aria stopped chewing. Ester, even without a direct political connection, looked at everyone for an explanation.

Damon broke the silence. ”I assume that is bad.”

Morgana answered without taking her eyes off the letter. ”Valcair is one of the oldest ducal houses in the west. Officially neutral. Rich, influential, very careful. They do not get involved in open conflicts; they buy results before conflicts exist.”

Elizabeth nodded. ”And they never appear at the beginning of a fraud. If their name has surfaced, it means Havelock is more desperate than we imagined, or some layer of the operation was exposed before being removed.”

Aria swallowed the bread. ”Or someone inside the financial chain made a mistake.”

Damon looked at her. ”You are smiling.”

”Accounting errors give me hope.”

Ingrivid pointed to the map. ”This changes our priority. If Valcair is behind Havelock, arresting him may provoke a direct reaction.”

Morgana read the letter to the end and placed her hand on the table. ”Or it may prove Valcair financed an illegal intervention attempt in Arven.”

Elizabeth tilted her head. ”If we have Havelock alive, Marius cooperating, Caldrick confirming, and the complete financial trail, yes.”

Damon crossed his arms. ”Then we need Havelock before Valcair realizes the leak.”

”Exactly,” Elizabeth said.

The door opened before anyone could continue. A guard entered, bowed, and handed a note to Ingrivid. She read it quickly, and her expression closed further.

”One of the scouts from the Merrow route returned. Havelock did not pass, but a sealed carriage left the city before dawn with a small escort. It went toward the old district, not the border.”

Morgana frowned. ”Old district? Why?”

Aria stood from the floor far too quickly, nearly dropping the crystal. ”The old registry office.”

Everyone looked at her.

”Before the new building was constructed, land and guarantee records were kept in the old registry office, near the old district. Officially, the documents were transferred years ago, but some seal matrices and guarantee books remained there during the renovation. If Havelock or someone linked to him needs to destroy proof of the seal mold...”

Elizabeth completed, ”Or obtain an old matrix to justify the copy.”

Morgana was already taking her sword. ”Ingrivid.”

”I am already going.”

Ester immediately looked at Damon. ”No.”

Damon sighed. ”I did not even move.”

”Your entire body moved inside.”

”That is a hard accusation to refute.”

Morgana looked at him. The decision was on her face before she spoke. ”You come, but you do not enter first.”

Ester turned to her. ”Morgana.”

”If there are armed men, I need him close. If there are not, he stays outside. You can come too and yell at all of us on the way.”

Ester was silent for a second.

Damon raised an eyebrow. ”She offered you authority to yell.”

”I heard.”

Elizabeth picked up a cloak. ”I am going too. If the old registry office is involved, we need someone who knows how to preserve the legal value of the evidence before Damon confuses documents with obstacles.”

”I can distinguish documents from obstacles.”

Aria looked at him. ”You once kicked a door so hard it became secondary evidence.”

”A door is not a document.”

”Depends on the seal on it.”

The decision was made in less than a minute. Aria would remain in the archives with reinforced guards, preparing a list of matrices and records that could be in the old registry office. Ingrivid would go with Morgana. Elizabeth and Ester as well. Damon would accompany them under medical protest. The rest of the escort would be discreet, but larger than the previous night. No one there was still pretending the matter was merely administrative.

The old registry office stood in a lower part of the city, near an abandoned square where old merchants still kept stone warehouses. The building had two floors, tall windows, and worn columns. The main door was closed, but there were recent wheel marks in the mud and footprints on the side stairs. There were no official guards.

”This is not suspicious,” Damon murmured.

Ester, beside him, answered, ”Silence.”

Morgana signaled to Ingrivid, who sent two guards around the side. Elizabeth examined the main lock and frowned. ”Opened recently. Closed again carelessly.”

”Then they entered with a key,” Ingrivid said.

”Or with someone who knew where the key was kept.”

Morgana slowly drew her sword. ”We enter.”

Damon stayed two steps behind her, as promised. Two steps was an honest distance, though Ester seemed to disagree. Inside, the registry office smelled of old paper, dampness, and wax. Empty shelves occupied the walls of the main hall. There was dust on the floor, but recent tracks cut through the gray layer in several directions. Someone had been there. More than one person.

A sound came from the upper floor.

Wood dragging.

Ingrivid raised a hand, ordering silence. They climbed the side stairs slowly. Damon felt the cold wanting to advance before him, mapping the space, but he contained it. He did not need to freeze the entire building to know there were people upstairs. The smell of sweat and blade oil was enough.

On the second floor, they found the records room door open.

Inside, three men were burning documents in an iron brazier.

A fourth man held a wooden box containing old seals.

And Havelock was there.

He did not look desperate. On the contrary, he was far too calm, dressed impeccably, with gray gloves and a dark blue coat. When he saw Morgana at the door, he released an almost bored sigh, as if she had arrived too early to an inconvenient meeting.

”Duchess Arven,” he said. ”Your insistence is beginning to look like poor manners.”

Morgana entered the room with her sword low, but ready. ”Your attempt to burn evidence is beginning to look like confession.”

Havelock smiled. ”Evidence? This is merely the disposal of old material without legal value.”

Elizabeth entered right after, looked at the seal box and the brazier. ”Then you do not mind if we collect everything.”

”In fact, I do. These records belong to Halbrecht jurisdiction.”

Morgana raised her chin. ”They are inside Arven.”

”Territory contested under old clauses.”

Damon looked at Ester. ”Is he really trying to claim the building while burning paper?”

Ester answered quietly, ”Nobility.”

Havelock finally looked at Damon. His gaze lingered on the white hair, then on his hands, then on his face. There was no visible fear. Havelock was better than Caldrick. Much better. ”And this must be the famous ice man. I confess I expected something more... unstable.”

Damon smiled faintly. ”I slept well.”

Morgana almost lost her seriousness.

Almost.

Havelock raised one hand. The three men near the brazier drew short weapons, but did not advance. The fourth held the box tighter. Ingrivid and Arven’s guards were already ready. The room became too small for so many blades.

”If anyone attacks,” Havelock said, ”documents will fall into the brazier. Seals as well. And, I regret to inform you, any accusation against me will be left without material foundation.”

Elizabeth observed the flames. ”You are very confident for someone surrounded.”

”I am surrounded by people who need evidence. I only need ashes.”

Damon looked at the brazier.

Then at the box.

Then at Havelock.

”May I?” he asked Morgana.

Ester answered first. ”Not if it is the idea I think it is.”

Morgana kept her eyes on Havelock. ”What do you intend to do?”

”Something small.”

Ester made a sound of pure disbelief.

Damon slowly raised his hand, without any abrupt movement. The cold left him in a thin thread, almost invisible. It was not an explosion. It did not freeze the room. It did not extinguish the torches. It merely crossed the air toward the brazier like a needle of winter. Havelock noticed too late. The ice entered through the gaps in the iron, wrapped around the base of the flames, and stole the heat from the inside out.

The fire died without smoke.

The ashes were trapped beneath a transparent layer of ice.

The half-burned documents remained intact enough to be read.

The room fell silent.

Damon lowered his hand. ”Small.”

Ester looked at him.

Damon did not look back.

Havelock lost his calm for one second. Only one second. But Morgana saw it. Elizabeth did too. Ingrivid advanced in the same instant, knocking down the man with the box before he could throw it to the floor. Arven’s guards disarmed two of the men near the brazier. The third tried to attack Damon, perhaps out of panic, perhaps idiocy. Damon stepped aside and tapped two fingers against the attacker’s blade. The metal froze, cracked, and fell apart in pieces.

The man dropped the empty hilt.

”I recommend reconsidering,” Damon said.

He reconsidered.

Havelock tried to retreat, but Morgana was already before him. Her sword touched the counselor’s chest, not piercing, merely preventing movement.

”Lord Havelock,” Morgana said, her voice firm, ”you are under arrest for falsifying an official order, conspiracy to coerce House Arven, attempted destruction of evidence, and involvement in an armed attack against ducal agents.”

Havelock looked at her with controlled contempt. ”You do not have authority to arrest me.”

”I do within my territory.”

”Valcair will not accept this.”

The word slipped out.

The room noticed.

Elizabeth smiled.

It was not a pretty smile.

It was the smile of someone who had just watched an opponent place his own head on the negotiation table.

”Curious,” she said. ”No one mentioned Valcair.”

Havelock went still.

Damon released a low whistle. ”That was ugly.”

Morgana did not waste the moment. ”Record that,” she ordered.

One of the guards activated the recording crystal attached to his chest. The blue light was already on. It had been on since they entered.

Havelock looked at the crystal.

Then at Morgana.

This time, fear appeared.

Not like Caldrick’s, loud and pathetic. It was a cold, quick fear, the fear of an intelligent man realizing he had calculated wrong. Havelock had expected a tired duchess, perhaps desperate, perhaps far too dependent on the ice monster at her side. Instead, he had found a legal trap, enough witnesses, an active recording, and Damon controlled enough to extinguish a brazier without destroying the room.

Morgana took one step closer. ”Thank you for confirming Valcair has a direct interest in this.”

Havelock tightened his jaw. ”I confirmed nothing.”

”Enough for an investigation.”

Elizabeth collected the box of seals and opened the lid. Inside were old matrices, two of them marked with the symbol of the Council of Guarantees. Aria would probably have screamed with joy if she were there. Elizabeth, more restrained, merely lifted one with a cloth.

”We also have this.”

Havelock lost color.

Damon looked at Morgana. ”I think now he is going to want protection too.”

”Probably,” Morgana said.

Havelock stared at her. For several seconds, he still tried to maintain his pose. Then he saw the box, the frozen brazier, the saved documents, the disarmed men, and the glowing crystal. The pose cracked.

”If I talk,” he said quietly, ”Valcair will kill me.”

Morgana answered without hesitation. ”If you do not talk, I hand you to the Council with enough evidence for Valcair to say you acted alone.”

Havelock was silent.

Damon tilted his head. ”She is getting good at this.”

Ester murmured, ”Terrible influence.”

Morgana ignored them both. ”Your choice is simple, Lord Havelock. Be discarded by Valcair, or be protected by Arven while you provide names.”

Havelock looked at her as if the idea of needing protection from the house he had tried to destroy was a humiliation difficult to swallow. Perhaps it was. Damon hoped it was.

At last, he closed his eyes.

”Soren Vale is only a messenger,” he said. ”The money came from Valcair, but the political orders passed through Lady Seraphine Valcair. She wanted Arven broken before the autumn meeting of the duchies.”

Morgana went rigid. ”Why?”

Havelock opened his eyes.

”Because Arven guards something she wants in the northern mines.”

The silence changed.

Damon looked at Morgana.

Morgana looked at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked at the box of seals, then at the documents frozen in the brazier.

Ester was the only one who looked at Damon, perhaps because the word mines had done exactly what she feared: awakened far too much interest on his face.

Damon breathed slowly.

”What thing?” Morgana asked.

Havelock swallowed dryly. ”I do not know. I only heard the name once.”

”What name?”

He hesitated.

Morgana’s sword pressed a little harder.

Havelock answered.

”Underground Heart.”

The elemental root in Damon’s chest pulsed.

Hard.

Cold ran through the room for an instant, so quickly everyone felt the temperature drop. Damon closed his hand, controlling it immediately, but Ester was already beside him. Elizabeth noticed. So did Morgana.

Havelock looked at Damon, confused by the reaction.

Damon kept his face calm, but inside, something ancient moved. Not a complete memory from Xue Lian, not a voice, only a glacial, profound intuition, coming from somewhere between the elemental root and the Celestial Ice Body.

Something in the northern mines had answered to the name.

And Damon did not like that at all.