"Rowan, I have a favor to ask."
Suspended within his life-support apparatus, the man smiled as he spoke. The cavernous hall hummed softly around him, sterile and quiet.
Rowan waved a hand dismissively. "No need for formalities. You've taught me well these past weeks. I'll uphold my end of the deal. Just tell me what needs doing, and be clear about the risks."
"The Grand Star Festival is about to begin," he said. "Two magicians with hidden motives will attempt to enter the city during the event. One of them holds a senior position within the Roman Church. They intend to use the festival as cover to trade a magical weapon known as the Stiletto Lance."
He continued evenly, as if recounting routine logistics.
"The Anglican Church is concerned. Their Archbishop, Laura Stuart, believes the Roman Church plans to use the Stiletto Lance against them. They've asked us to intervene and prevent the transaction."
Rowan listened without interrupting.
In truth, this conflict held little intrinsic value to the city's ruler. To him, all magicians were obstacles to be erased in the long run. His vision was a world without magic. Still, formal cooperation with the Anglican Church made refusal inconvenient. And the incident presented another opportunity to test certain variables already in motion.
"So," Rowan said, tilting his head slightly, "do you want me to eliminate them?"
There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.
He had been studying magical armaments recently, and the Stiletto Lance was infamous even among those. Its design traced back to a legendary weapon said to have pierced a holy figure. In this world, that myth granted it a singular function.
Once activated, it could kill a Saint. Distance was irrelevant. Sight alone was enough.
Against anyone else, it was useless.
That specificity was why it was feared. Saints were not simply powerful magicians. They were rare individuals who carried something akin to divine inheritance. Fewer than twenty existed worldwide. Each one was a walking strategic weapon, capable of overwhelming a modern city alone.
If such a weapon fell into the wrong hands, the balance between the major factions would shift sharply.
"No," came the answer. "That won't be necessary."
He smiled faintly.
"A student from the city will work with a magician from the Anglican Church to stop the exchange. Your role is contingency. If they fail, you intervene."
Rowan considered it for a moment, then nodded.
"Sounds simple enough. Names?"
"Lidovia Lorenzetti and Oriana Thomson," he replied. "Lorenzetti is a devout Roman Church operative from the Vatican. She's the buyer. Thomson is an independent courier, well-known in magical circles. Tracking, counter-tracking, logistics. She handles delivery."
He paused.
"You won't need to locate them yourself. The moment they enter the city, I'll know. I'll contact you immediately."
"That does make things easier," Rowan said.
The city's surveillance network left little room for secrets. Tens of millions of microscopic observers were distributed throughout every district. Nothing within the city truly went unseen.
On the day the festival began, Rowan stepped out from the windowless tower and descended into the city below, an earpiece resting against his ear.
The connection remained open. Once the two magicians arrived, he would be notified. Until then, he was free.
As he walked through the streets, he took in the scene around him.
Students filled the avenues in waves of color, each group wearing the uniform of their respective schools. Food stalls lined the roads, and visitors from outside the city mingled freely among them. The air buzzed with excitement.
The Grand Star Festival was a seven-day citywide event, jointly hosted by every academy. With over a million participants and full global broadcast coverage, it was one of the few times each year the city opened itself to the outside world.
Families came to visit. Outsiders came to watch. And students competed as representatives of their schools, showcasing their abilities in a series of public events.
On paper, it was a sports festival.
In practice, it was spectacle.
Abilities were encouraged, within limits. Stronger was not always better. Control mattered. Creativity mattered. The result was less a competition and more a carefully staged demonstration of the city's strength.
A warning, and an invitation, all at once.
"You can explore if you like," the voice in Rowan's ear said. "Or meet up with some acquaintances. You seemed to get along well with a few of the students last time."
"I'll wait," Rowan replied. "Just let me know when they arrive."
He understood the subtext. The more ties he formed here, the less likely he was to turn away from the city.
Rowan didn't comment on it.
For now, he simply blended into the crowd, watching the festival unfold, and waited.