**CHAPTER 7: "BLOOD ON MARBLE"**
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Morning in Lumeria arrived with bells again.
Kael woke to the sound drifting through his window—musical tones marking the start of the day. Outside, the city was already stirring. Scholars heading to libraries. Merchants opening shops. Guards taking up their posts with quiet efficiency.
He dressed quickly, wrapping the black sword and securing it across his back. Downstairs, the inn's common room offered a simple breakfast—bread, cheese, fruit, and that strange bitter tea Lumerians seemed to love.
Rynn was already there, looking disgustingly awake. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough." Kael sat across from her. "You?"
"Like a rock. Actual beds are amazing." She pushed a cup of tea toward him. "Fair warning—that stuff tastes like someone boiled old books. But it wakes you up."
Kael tried it. She wasn't wrong.
Liora appeared a few minutes later, moving with her usual measured grace. "Ready?"
"For what?" Kael asked.
"Same as yesterday. Explore. Learn. Don't cause trouble." She glanced at him specifically. "Especially that last part."
"I didn't cause trouble yesterday."
"You almost did. I could tell from your face when you came back." But her tone was light. "Today, just walk. Observe. Try to stay out of everyone's way."
They split up at the inn's entrance again—Rynn heading toward the docks, Liora toward the Scholar's Quarter, Kael left to wander wherever his feet took him.
He picked a different direction than yesterday, following a street that wound up the hillside. The higher he climbed, the wealthier the district became. Larger buildings. Finer clothing on the people passing by. More guards.
He was passing through a small plaza when he spotted a familiar figure.
Master Corvin stood outside his tea stall, arranging cups on a display table. He looked up as Kael approached and smiled in recognition.
"The observant traveler. Back for more people-watching?"
"Just walking," Kael said. "Seeing the city."
"And? What do you think of Lumeria so far?"
"It's... beautiful. But careful."
"Carefully beautiful. Yes." Corvin gestured to one of his tables. "Tea? On the house for someone with honest eyes."
Kael hesitated, then sat. Why not?
Corvin prepared the tea with practiced movements—heating water, measuring leaves, pouring with steady hands. "You're not from here. Obviously. But you're not just passing through either. You're *looking* for something."
"What makes you say that?"
"I've run this stall for twenty years. You learn to read people." He set a cup in front of Kael. "It's alright. I'm not going to report you to the guards. But be careful what you look for in Lumeria. Some answers are more dangerous than the questions."
"Have you ever found a dangerous answer?"
Corvin smiled slightly. "Once or twice. And I learned to keep them to myself." He returned to arranging his display. "Enjoy the tea. And the city. But watch your step."
Kael sipped the tea—better than the inn's version, smoother—and wondered what Corvin wasn't saying.
*Someone who knows things*, he thought again. *Someone to remember.*
He thanked Corvin and continued walking.
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The streets grew busier as morning deepened. Kael found himself in a market area—not the main commerce district, but a smaller square where scholars gathered to buy supplies. Bookbinders, paper merchants, ink sellers. Everything neat and organized.
He was browsing a stall selling Eidric-powered lanterns when he heard the voice.
"BEHOLD! MY BANKAI!"
Kael turned.
A young man—maybe eleven—stood in the middle of the square, holding a wooden practice sword above his head dramatically. He wore training robes and an expression of intense seriousness.
"With this technique passed down through generations, I shall—"
"Harry, put that down before you hurt yourself," an older merchant called from a nearby stall.
"But I've been practicing!"
"You've been reading too many adventure novels."
"THIS IS RESEARCH!"
A few people chuckled. The young man—Harry, apparently—looked around, realized everyone was watching, and lowered the sword sheepishly.
"...I was just demonstrating proper form."
"Demonstrate quietly, please."
Harry slunk away, still clutching his practice sword, muttering something about "uncultured masses."
Kael couldn't help smiling. Even in this carefully controlled city, kids were still kids.
He continued through the market, and caught other odd moments:
Two scholars having an intense argument about which philosopher was superior, complete with hand gestures that looked suspiciously like they were about to cast spells.
A street performer juggling books while reciting poetry, and somehow not dropping anything.
A small girl tugging her mother's sleeve: "Can we get the premium scrolls? They have better dramatic effect when you unfurl them!"
Normal life. Quirky life. The kind of daily chaos that existed everywhere, even in a city that pretended to be perfectly ordered.
Kael was starting to relax when he heard different voices.
Angry voices.
Raised, but not quite shouting. Coming from a side street off the market square.
He almost walked past. Almost remembered Liora's warning about not getting involved.
But something in the tone made him pause. Not anger between equals.
The kind of anger that came with power.
He turned down the side street.
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Three young men in fine clothing had someone pressed against a wall.
Nobles, clearly—their tunics were embroidered with house crests, their boots polished, their bearing confident in that way that came from never being challenged. They were maybe twenty, twenty-two. Old enough to know better. Young enough not to care.
The fourth figure was smaller, younger. A scholar in worn robes that had been mended multiple times. He clutched a leather satchel to his chest, and even from ten feet away Kael could see he was scared.
"—dangerous questions, boy," one of the nobles was saying. "Do you think we don't notice when people like you start poking around in matters that don't concern them?"
"I was just researching public records," the scholar said, voice shaking slightly. "I have every right—"
"Rights?" Another noble laughed. "You have the rights we *allow* you. Remember your place."
The third noble shoved him, not hard, but enough to make him stumble. "Maybe a few days in jail will teach you to keep your nose in appropriate books."
Kael's hand went to his sword.
*Don't get involved. Don't start trouble. Just walk away.*
But the scholar's face—that fear, that helplessness—reminded him of everyone back home who'd been powerless when violence came.
And his feet were already moving.
"Leave him alone," Kael said.
Four heads turned. The nobles sized him up—travel-worn clothes, wrapped sword, clearly not from Lumeria. The scholar just looked confused and terrified.
"This doesn't concern you, traveler," the lead noble said. "Move along."
"Seems like it concerns him." Kael nodded at the scholar. "And he doesn't look interested in whatever you're selling."
"Selling?" The noble's expression darkened. "We're simply having a discussion about proper academic boundaries. But since you've involved yourself—" He stepped forward. "—perhaps you need education too."
"I'm fine, thanks."
"That wasn't a request."
The tension crystallized. The nobles' hands went to sword hilts—decorative blades, probably never used in real combat, but blades nonetheless. The scholar pressed harder against the wall, trying to disappear.
And Kael realized, too late, that he'd walked into exactly the kind of situation Liora had warned him about.
"Last chance," the noble said. "Apologize for your disrespect, and we'll forget this happened."
"No."
"Then you're under—"
"Guards!" the noble called, voice cutting across the street.
Two city guards appeared from the market square—they must have been watching the whole time, waiting to see how it played out.
"This man attacked us," the noble said smoothly, pointing at Kael. "We were having a private conversation when he became violent and threatening. We want him arrested for assault on nobility."
"That's not what—" Kael started.
"Are you calling Lord Carius a liar?" one of the guards asked quietly.
The trap snapped shut.
Kael looked at the noble—at that smug certainty that the system would protect him. At the guards—at their blank professional faces that promised no mercy. At the scholar—at the horror and guilt warring in his eyes.
"And you," the guard said to the scholar. "You were involved in this disturbance as well?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Doesn't matter. Public disturbance. You're coming too."
"But—"
"Both of you. Now." The guard's hand went to his sword. "Peacefully, or we make it painful."
Kael's hand stayed on his wrapped blade. For just a moment, he considered fighting. Could probably take two guards. Could definitely outrun them in the twisting streets.
But the scholar was still there. Still scared. And if Kael fought, they'd blame him too. Probably worse.
Slowly, Kael raised his hands away from the sword.
"Fine. I'll come."
The guards moved in with practiced efficiency. One pulled Kael's hands behind his back, binding them with white cord that looked ceremonial but held like iron. The other removed the wrapped sword from his shoulders, handling it carefully.
"You too," a guard said to the scholar.
"This isn't fair—"
"Life rarely is. Hands."
The scholar's hands were bound as well. He looked at Kael with a mixture of guilt and anger and confusion.
The nobles watched with satisfaction as they were led away.
"Remember this," Lord Carius called after them. "Remember what happens when you forget your place."
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The jail was three blocks from the market square.
Not the Royal Jail—that was something else entirely, built into the mountain beneath the city. This was the normal jail. For petty criminals. Drunk and disorderly. Public disturbances.
People who forgot their place.
The guards processed them with efficient disinterest. Names. Origins. Charges. All recorded in neat ledgers. Then they were pushed into a cell together—maybe ten feet square, stone walls, a single barred window high up, two benches along opposite walls.
Four other prisoners were already there. An older man who looked like a merchant. Two young workers. Another scholar.
The door slammed shut. Locked.
Kael and the younger scholar stood in the middle of the cell, hands finally unbound, staring at each other.
Silence.
Then—
"This is your fault," the scholar said.
Kael blinked. "What?"
"I had it under control! They were just threatening me. If you hadn't interfered—"
"They were about to beat you up!"
"They were *posturing*. It's what nobles do. If you'd just walked past, they would have gotten bored and left." The scholar's voice was rising. "But no, you had to play hero, and now we're both arrested!"
"I was trying to help!"
"I didn't ask for help!"
"You looked terrified!"
"I WAS terrified! Of getting arrested! Which is exactly what happened!" The scholar threw his hands up. "Do you have any idea how much trouble this causes? I have research due. I have books to return. I have—" He stopped, breathing hard. "This is a disaster."
"They were going to hurt you," Kael said, voice hardening. "Was I supposed to just watch?"
"YES! That's exactly what you were supposed to do!"
"That's not who I am."
"Well congratulations on your principles. They've landed us both in jail." The scholar sank onto one of the benches, head in his hands. "Gods. My reputation is ruined."
Kael sat on the opposite bench, jaw tight. "I was trying to do the right thing."
"The right thing got us arrested."
"Better arrested than beaten."
"You don't understand how Lumeria works. Those nobles—they wouldn't have actually hurt me. Just scared me. Made their point. It's theater. But now it's *official*. Now there's a record. Now—" He looked up, face frustrated. "Now I have an arrest on my record for disturbing the peace. Do you know what that does to a scholar's reputation?"
"I know what getting your ribs kicked in does to your body."
"They weren't going to—" The scholar stopped, took a breath. "You know what? Fine. Thank you. For interfering. For getting us both thrown in jail. For making everything worse. Thank you so much."
"You're welcome," Kael said flatly.
They glared at each other across the small cell.
One of the other prisoners—the older merchant—cleared his throat. "First time arrested in Lumeria?"
"Yes," they said simultaneously, then glared harder.
"Thought so. You'll learn." The man settled back against the wall. "Guards will process the charges tomorrow evening. Usually just a fine and a warning for public disturbance. You'll be out by tommorow afternoon."
"Tomorrow?" the scholar groaned. "I have a book due back today."
"Should have thought of that before causing trouble."
"I didn't cause trouble! *He* caused trouble!" Pointing at Kael.
"Me? You're the one who—"
"I didn't ask you to intervene!"
"You didn't need to ask! It was obvious you needed help!"
"I needed to be left alone!"
"Well excuse me for having basic human decency!"
"Your decency is the problem!"
The merchant sighed and closed his eyes. "Going to be a long night."
Kael and the scholar continued glaring at each other, neither willing to back down, neither quite sure how they'd ended up here, both absolutely certain it was the other one's fault.
Outside, through the high window, the afternoon sun slanted across the white marble city.
Beautiful. Peaceful.
And somewhere in its carefully ordered streets, two young men who'd tried to do the right thing sat in a jail cell, arguing about whose fault it was.
"It's your".....
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**END CHAPTER 7**
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