Rhayne keeps looking at the port after she accepts the expedition.
The cranes move cargo between the ships, cutting through the clear morning light. At the factory, a valve vents steam for a few seconds, and the sound reaches our table mixed with the water slapping against the pilings.
The noise pulls her attention back, and she speaks again.
"I need to farm experience before we go."
"Zhang Xi recommended rest."
"She recommended I stay off the Void for a few days. She didn’t say I have to sit here watching Richard and Oliver run the factory."
The way she looks at the building tells me that second part is already costing her enough.
"The Academy’s lower fields are safe," she goes on. "There are barriers, instructors, containment teams. I can hunt without Void Monarch and keep my progression."
She’s right. The efficient hunting grounds—the ones that turn years into months—were one of my reasons for choosing the Academy, even if, by some irony, I’m the one who doesn’t need them.
Rhayne needs to advance as much as I do. Rank D still caps her reserve, limits how the Void Capacitor performs, and holds down how much OXI she can take through the Soul Link. Grounding her would only push a problem down the road until it caught up with us in the Deep Asylum.
Even so, the red vessels in her eyes haven’t cleared all the way.
"Go to the VIP-S north field. Hunt Rank D Asperlings. Watch your use of your—"
"I know my limits. And thank you."
I look at her.
Rhayne holds my expression for a few seconds before her eyes slide off mine.
"Yesterday was different."
"Yesterday you found your limit with the Capacitor at ninety-nine percent."
"I needed to keep the link running."
"And I needed to cut it sooner."
The fault isn’t only hers. The plan hinged on the Soul Link, and I kept burning OXI knowing where part of that energy was going.
Rhayne runs her thumb along the edge of the table, and there’s a clear needle in her voice.
"This time I won’t be feeding you."
"Be careful anyway."
She nods.
We settle that I’ll send the time as soon as Zhang Xi confirms they’re both fit to enter a dungeon. Rhayne stands and heads for the Academy, and I stay at the table a few more minutes.
I still need a fourth.
Zhang Xi gives us healing, buffs, stability. Rhayne controls the field and can work the dungeon without falling back on Void Monarch. I know the routes, the guardians, and the rule of the trade.
What’s missing is someone who can hold the line alive when the Ferryman’s Toll decides to test the price of our passage.
Veric is the obvious choice.
So I don’t open the COMM.
If he got the proposal as a message, he’d have time to line up his arguments and build a reasonable refusal. Veric works better, for me, when he has to answer before prudence catches up with the rest of his personality.
There’s also no point asking for a Reentry Pearl outright.
House Azurea has the resources to keep a supply, but Garen wouldn’t leave something that valuable in his son’s hands unchecked. The pearls sustain operations on Earth, guarantee passage for important agents, protect executives who have to cross between the two worlds. They’re strategic assets of the House, logged and handed out by need.
For Veric, the weight of the Azurea name opens almost every door. What’s in the vaults still belongs to his father.
Garen might help Rhayne if I brought him a political justification, offered something in return, and took on a new debt. But I already have another way. I’d rather ask for the man than for the family’s holdings.
I walk slowly through the streets of Azure Prime until I reach the palace. By the time I arrive, the morning traffic has already filled the outer courtyards. Staff cross the galleries carrying documents, guards trade shifts at the entrances, and a few representatives from lesser houses wait for an audience in a side wing.
Nobody tries to stop me.
The gate guards recognize my face before they see the Crest of Azurea pinned to my chest. One of them salutes and only asks me to log the entry. The receptionist in the inner hall already knows my name and starts to tell me Veric is busy.
I walk past her before she finishes.
The palace isn’t my home, but its staff have seen me lounging around with Garen and have probably learned that treating me like a stranger creates bigger problems than letting me through.
I reach the main hall and find two rows of chairs arranged in front of a ceremonial dais. A large portrait of Garen fills the central wall, dressed in royal armor, a sword held upright in front of him.
Veric isn’t there.
I drag one of the chairs into the middle of the hall.
The scrape of the legs against the floor makes three staffers look my way. I sit dead center, study the portrait of Garen, and wait ten seconds.
Then I stand.
"Veric Azurea!"
My voice crosses the hall and reaches the upper galleries.
A woman with an armful of documents stops mid-corridor. One of the guards keeps his face still, but his eyes move to the staircase.
"Prince Veric!" I shout again. "Your shield is trying to run off with the inheritance because you’re too lazy!"
The receptionist I left behind hurries into the hall, breathing hard.
"Mister Sands, the prince asked not to be interrupted."
"He also asked me not to use his father’s Crest without permission. Some traditions exist to be ignored."
She seems to weigh calling the guards, and the guards seem to weigh pretending they aren’t there.
I take a small cushion from another chair and set it on the first one, settling in.
"Veric! I’m starting to rearrange the décor!"
Quick footsteps sound on the upper floor.
Veric appears at the top of the staircase a few seconds later.
No armor, no cloak, nothing ceremonial. A white shirt over his chest, dark sweatpants ending above bare feet. His hair is wet, and he’s drying it with a towel as he comes down.
The anger on his face tells me my method worked.
"You’re the only person in Thirstfall who can walk into a royal palace shouting a prince’s name like you’re not afraid of dying."
I point at the portrait of Garen.
"I’m friends with the owner of the game."
Veric stops on the last step and looks at the image of his father. Then his eyes move over the chair out of place, the cushion I stole, and the staff trying not to look interested.
He lets out a slow breath.
"My father is still going to regret ever meeting you."
"We’ve already covered that possibility."
Veric hands the towel to a staffer and gestures for everyone to clear out. The receptionist takes a few seconds to accept that no one is being executed this morning, then gathers her documents and leaves with the others.
When the hall empties, Veric comes over to the chair.
"What do you want?"
Before I answer, I take a better look at how he’s standing.
The morning bath is already strange. Veric usually treats the early hours as an extension of the night, especially when there’s no class or mission on the calendar. His shoulders are low, and the tiredness sits in his eyes despite the cold water and the clean clothes.
"What were you doing?"
"Bathing, until you started screaming. Can’t you tell?"
"Before the bath."
He looks at me more closely.
"Came back from the hunting grounds."
"At this hour?"
"Left before dawn."
The fatigue makes sense. No dirt survived the bath, but his body still carries the weight of hours of fighting.
"Farming experience?"
"Yes."
A smile slips out before I can stop it, and Veric catches it.
"I don’t like that look."
"Turns out we all have similar goals."
"That never ends well for me."
I put the chair back before some servant logs the moral damage done to the royal furniture.
"I’m putting together an expedition for a Rank C dungeon."
Veric shakes his head.
"No."
"You haven’t heard the proposal yet."
"I have personal projects on hold, political matters tied to the crown and our company, and my own training. I need to advance as soon as possible, and I’m not wasting the next few days following you to another dungeon that conveniently shows up in your memories."
The refusal was built for a proposal he didn’t even know was coming. Maybe showing up unannounced just saved him the time it would’ve taken to say it.
"The dungeon gives experience."
"So do the Academy fields. I spent all morning confirming that."
"The Ferryman’s Toll gives more."
Veric crosses his arms.
"And charges in blood, gear, or years of life?"
"We’re still figuring out that part."
The answer kills whatever interest might have surfaced.
"Find someone else."
He moves toward a side table where a pitcher of water and some documents have been left. He pours a glass and drinks half of it before continuing.
"Since the Team Battle, my father has had requests from three noble houses, two guilds, and Academy representatives wanting an explanation for House Azurea’s involvement. I also have to review the protection given to the factory and keep them from using my confirmation in the arena to claim the Silver Fang operates under direct control of the Crown."
"It operates with the Crown’s support."
"Support and control carry different consequences."
"Leona will love hearing you’re worried about her independence."
"I’m worried about mine."
He sets the glass on the table.
"On top of that, I have my own advancement. You’re not the only one trying to reach the next Rank."
"I’m at ninety-six percent."
Veric turns slowly.
The tiredness leaves his eyes for a moment.
"How much were you at before the Team Battle?"
"Sixteen."
"How did you get eighty percent in one afternoon?"
"Rahul lifted my prize."
"That explains the lack of money. Not the experience gain."
I tell him about the meeting in the west tower. Rahul had held the payment back to settle the fight I owed and to charge for the commercial use of the Oathring. Then he offered five percent of his own experience through a Nomine Gladiatus.
"He conceded," I finish. "The gap between our Ranks let me absorb three percent. The other two went back to him."
Veric rests a hand on the table.
"Rahul put Rank SS experience into you to keep good relations."
"That’s the phrase he used."
"He bought a debt that doesn’t show up in any contract."
"I know."
"And you took it anyway."
"I still owe him something, but now I’m at ninety-six percent."
Veric doesn’t argue the logic. He doesn’t approve of it either. He knows the value of experience and understands why I didn’t turn it down.
"The dungeon can finish what’s left," I say. "You’d also gain more than in the controlled fields."
"Experience isn’t the only resource I have to manage."
He takes another towel a staffer is holding and runs it over his hair again, though it’s nearly dry.
"I have responsibilities here. I need to train Undertow, review the policing my father asked for, and contain the impression that he personally signed off on everything you’ve done. Walking into a Rank C dungeon with you would mean abandoning three problems to find fifteen more."
"Zhang already agreed."
"Good. You have a Rank C."
"We need someone to hold the front line."
"Find Oliver."
"He’s frontline, not vanguard."
"Hire someone."
"I don’t trust someone hired for what’s at the center of that place."
Veric tosses the towel onto the railing, where it lands perfectly before the staffer rushes to grab it.
"My answer is still no."
He starts toward the staircase.
"The dungeon supplies Reentry Pearls."
Veric slows, but doesn’t stop.
"I already have access to one when I need it."
"I know."
"So it still isn’t my problem."
"I need three."
"With two hundred thousand Scales, maybe it’s time to find out whether the market works."
"The waiting list is long. The Ferryman’s Toll can deliver all three in a single expedition."
Veric reaches the first step.
"Take Zhang Xi and hire a defense. I’m busy."
"One of the pearls is for Rhayne."
He stops.
The hand on the railing stays still. The tension drains out of his shoulders bit by bit, and his arms loosen at his sides.
I don’t have to explain why she can’t ask some family, guild, or merchant network for help. Veric knows Rhayne’s life. Maybe he never put the problem in front of himself that way, but he knows she stayed in Thirstfall when the others found roads back.
"She hasn’t been home in years," I say.
Veric doesn’t turn.
"Does she want to go?"
"She does."
The hall stays quiet.
Experience didn’t move his decision. Neither did a rare dungeon. Obligations, projects, and prudence kept Veric walking to the stairs.
Rhayne’s name made all of it stop.
So that’s the point.
Rhayne is the part of Veric that doesn’t know how to keep calculating.
He lets go of the railing and turns his face toward me.
"Start from the beginning," he says. "And this time don’t leave out the part where we almost die."
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