Strongest Incubus System

Damon was the first to reach the staircase leading to the upper corridors, even with Ester keeping one hand close to his arm throughout the climb. The effort made the muscles in his legs protest, but he did not slow down. Not out of pride. The captured man had been found inside the mansion only hours after Seraphine’s departure, carrying poison and attempting to destroy documents directly connected to the former Duchess. That meant he was not merely a servant hastily bought. He was someone prepared to die before speaking, and men like that rarely operated without specific instructions.

When he reached the main floor, Damon found the mansion sealed from within. Guards occupied both ends of the corridor, servants had been gathered in the smaller hall for identification, and Ingrivid was issuing orders without raising her voice. The smell of smoke still came from the archive wing, but there were no visible flames. Aria had truly moved the important documents before the attack, leaving only copies and secondary records in the room. For the first time, her obsession with documentary redundancy had prevented a real loss.

”Where is the captured man?” Damon asked.

Ingrivid looked at Ester first, as though waiting for medical confirmation before answering.

Damon noticed and lost part of his patience.

”I can still ask questions without written authorization.”

”In the containment room near the armory,” Ingrivid replied. ”He is conscious, but not by choice. The physician neutralized part of the poison.”

”Part?”

”He bit down on a capsule. They managed to make him vomit before all of it was absorbed.”

Damon kept walking.

”Then we have little time.”

Ester followed, clearly displeased.

”You also have little time before you collapse if you keep ignoring your own body.”

”If I collapse after he speaks, it still counts as efficiency.”

”Do not expect me to agree.”

Morgana and Elizabeth came immediately behind them, while Aria remained near the attacked archive to review the damage. No one tried to stop Damon from leading the way. The words spoken in the cell were still present among them. Seraphine had spent weeks using threats to guide him. Now, for the first time, Damon had identified a defensive reaction from her. The attack on the archive was an attempt to erase something, and he intended to discover exactly what before the captured man died.

The containment room was small, built with thick walls and only one narrow window near the ceiling. The prisoner was tied to an iron chair, his arms bound behind his back and a leather strap between his teeth to prevent another suicide attempt. He was young, perhaps only slightly older than Damon, with short brown hair, a servant’s uniform, and a recent burn on his forearm. The ducal physician stood beside him, wiping dark blood from his chin.

”How long?” Ester asked.

The physician checked the man’s pulse.

”Perhaps half an hour before he loses consciousness. Longer if the poison was poor. Less if it was good.”

Damon approached until he stood directly in front of the prisoner. The man slowly raised his eyes. There was no panic. Only a kind of trained resignation. That confirmed Damon’s first impression.

He did not expect to survive.

”Remove the strap,” Damon said.

The physician hesitated.

”He may try to bite off his tongue.”

”Then hold his jaw.”

Ingrivid stood behind the chair and secured the man’s head with one hand. The physician removed the strap. The prisoner breathed through his mouth, coughed twice, and spat blood onto the floor.

Damon pulled over another chair and sat in front of him. His body appreciated the gesture, although no one needed to know that.

”Name.”

The man smiled with difficulty.

”You have already lost.”

Damon did not react.

”That is not a name.”

”It does not matter.”

”It matters to whoever collects your body.”

The smile diminished.

Damon rested his forearms on his knees.

”You entered the mansion wearing a servant’s uniform, waited for Seraphine to leave, and tried to destroy specific documents. You did not want to kill anyone. You did not want to free prisoners. You did not want to steal the bells. You wanted to erase records. That means someone discovered exactly which papers we found.”

The man remained silent.

”It also means the objective was not to destroy everything. If it were, you would have used alchemical fire on the entire wing. You went to the old archive because you were looking for something.”

The prisoner began breathing faster.

Slightly, but visibly.

Elizabeth noticed the change. Morgana did as well.

Damon continued without haste.

”You can die in silence. Seraphine probably expects that. But the other man is already dead, and the archive did not burn. Your mission failed. The only thing you can still decide is whether you die useful to her or useful to someone who may remember your name.”

”I do not need to be remembered.”

”Everyone says that before discovering they were discarded.”

The sentence struck him.

Damon saw it in his eyes.

The prisoner turned his face away. Ingrivid held him firmly enough to force him to remain facing forward.

”Name,” Damon repeated.

”...Elias.”

”Surname.”

”Venn.”

Elizabeth made a subtle gesture for a scribe outside to record it.

Damon continued.

”Who ordered the attack?”

Elias gave a quiet laugh and coughed again.

”You know.”

”I did not ask who funded it. I asked who gave the order.”

Silence.

Damon leaned a little closer.

”Seraphine does not speak directly to disposable men. There was an intermediary.”

Elias clenched his teeth.

”Dr. Caelis Vorn?” Damon asked.

The reaction was immediate.

Too small for an ordinary person to notice, but Damon had been waiting for it. The temperature around the chair fell slightly as his concentration increased.

Elias tried to hide it, but it was already too late.

Elizabeth stepped closer.

”The physician left the mansion with Seraphine.”

”Not necessarily all of his men,” Damon said.

Ester examined Elias more carefully.

”The burn on his arm.”

The physician pulled aside the torn fabric of the sleeve. The mark was not from ordinary fire. Thin lines formed an incomplete circular pattern.

”A spiritual containment mark,” Ester said. ”Recent.”

Damon looked at the man.

”Vorn put that on you.”

Elias closed his eyes.

”For what?” Morgana asked.

Ester examined the mark without touching it.

”Perhaps to prevent mental reading. Perhaps to destroy part of his memory when the poison was activated.”

Elizabeth became serious.

”Seraphine did not merely want him dead. She wanted to ensure that what he knew disappeared with him.”

This time, Damon allowed the silence to work. Elias already understood what that meant. He was not a trusted agent. He was a disposable container, prepared to be emptied once he stopped being useful.

”You think that is loyalty?” Damon asked. ”She marked your arm, gave you poison, and sent you to burn papers while she walked through the main door surrounded by the Council.”

Elias opened his eyes. The resignation remained, but now it was mixed with anger.

”You know nothing about her.”

”I know you are alive because you failed too quickly for the poison to finish its work.”

The man tried to move, but the ropes held him.

”She is saving Valcair.”

”By tearing a root out of Arven.”

”Arven will not survive the awakening.”

”So the solution is to kill children and turn my body into a tool?”

Elias did not answer.

Damon kept his voice low.

”Which document were you looking for?”

His resistance lasted several more seconds. Then his breathing failed, and his body began to tremble. The physician held a vial near his nostrils, keeping him conscious.

”Elias,” Damon said. ”You have minutes. Seraphine has already left. Vorn placed the mark. If you die now, they continue without you. Speak, and at least you choose the final damage you cause.”

Elias stared at Damon long enough to make a decision he probably hated.

”The white map.”

Aria, who had just entered through the door, stopped immediately.

”There was no white map in the archives.”

Elias moved his eyes toward her.

”Because it is not white yet.”

Damon frowned.

”Explain.”

”The map appears when it touches the correct cold. It was hidden inside the portrait frame. Seraphine said the Duchess was never able to open it.”

Morgana went rigid. The portrait was still in the private room, removed from the wall but not destroyed because Aria had wanted to examine the frame.

”Then the attack on the archive was a distraction,” Damon said.

Elias smiled with blood on his teeth.

”You moved the documents. You left the room empty.”

Damon stood so quickly that his vision darkened for an instant. Ester caught his arm, but he was already turned toward Ingrivid.

”How many guards are in the old wing?”

”Two at the entrance, two in the corridor.”

”That is not enough. The archive was never the target.”

Ingrivid left before he finished. Morgana followed immediately, ordering every passage into the old wing sealed. Elizabeth remained for half a second, looking at Elias.

”Who was sent to the room?”

He began to laugh, but the sound became a cough.

”She was not sent.”

Damon stopped at the door.

”Who?”

Elias raised his eyes toward him.

”She stayed behind.”

The answer struck Damon more forcefully than the heartbeat of the Heart. Seraphine had departed with the delegation, but someone from her entourage had remained inside the mansion. The young page. The twelve-year-old girl everyone had considered only a possible marked child. The exchange Damon had felt when the bell was sealed.

”She was not another key,” he said. ”She was an agent.”

Elias closed his eyes, satisfied that he had finally caused some damage.

”Not merely an agent.”

His body began convulsing. The physician moved forward, but Ester pulled Damon out before the poison and the mark completed what they had been designed to do.

”He will not speak again,” she said.

”He has already said enough.”