The morning sun reflected off No'aar's endless ocean, casting shimmering patterns across the palace walls, but the brilliance of the day could not mask the tension within its halls. Duke Archimedes Hawthorne sat at the head of the table, flanked by Duchess Satine, Tobias, and his younger sisters, Jessica and Amber, reviewing the morning reports. Tobias sensed the faint pulse of danger, a warning tugging at his prescient link, fragmented and elusive yet urgent. Trace moved discreetly behind the Duke, scanning corridors and the corners of the hall, eyes catching subtle movements others would overlook.
The last surviving assassin from the previous night had evaded capture, hiding in the shadows near a ventilation shaft. With careful precision, he raised a miniature sniper rifle, a poisoned dart glinting on its tip. Tobias' visions flared violently, showing the trajectory of the dart and the dark figure poised to strike. Before Trace or the palace guards could react, the dart shot silently, embedding itself in Duke Archimedes' shoulder with surgical accuracy.
Archimedes' hand went to the wound as his face paled, and he slumped forward in his chair. Tobias' heart leapt into his throat, prescience sharpening, warning of the neurotoxin's fast-acting effects. Trace immediately scanned the assassin's location, but the figure had vanished into the palace shadows with inhuman swiftness. The danger was no longer abstract; the poison was in the Duke's bloodstream, and the palace had only moments to act.
Duchess Satine stepped forward, auburn hair glinting in the morning light, and assumed immediate command of the palace operations. "Secure the perimeter," she ordered, voice firm and decisive, "and ensure every access point is monitored. We cannot allow another strike while my husband recovers." Tobias watched her, admiration mingling with anxiety as his visions continued to flash fragmented warnings of potential hazards. Satine's leadership grounded the palace in order even as the immediate threat threatened to spiral.
Within five minutes, Duke Archimedes was being seen to by a Physician, Archimedes was suffering a potent neurotoxin combined with a rare marine extract from No'aar. Untreated, it could paralyze him completely within the hour. Duchess Satine was heartbroken, and yet hope was found in the unlikeliest of places. Ksavir of House Cocytus spoke up, "A shipment of antidotes for that specific neurotoxin were moved to a nearby warehouse by House Shēnghuà and haven't left yet."
"We need to move quickly," Trace said, "I'm familiar with that warehouse. We can reach it in under thirty minutes if we take the eastern corridors and avoid exposed platforms." Tobias nodded, already calculating steps, timing, and hazards. Every moment counted, and the poison was a relentless reminder of the stakes. Quiet acknowledgement shared between Tobias and Ksavir.
The corridors were quiet but tense, every shadow and corner potentially hiding the remaining assassin. Tobias' prescience pulsed faintly, warning him of structural hazards and unseen dangers. Trace led the way, scanning the environment for weak points and traps while Tobias anticipated movements, guided by foresight. Together, they moved with precision, weaving through the capital with unmatched efficiency.
Taking a vacuum tube transport which Trace hadn't initially noticed had cut the pair nearly a quarter-hour. At the warehouse, Tobias accessed the reinforced cabinet containing the antidote. His fingers danced over the biometric scanner, anticipating each security step. The cabinet opened with a soft hiss, revealing vials of neon-blue serum designed for rapid absorption. Trace verified the compound and nodded. "This should counteract the neurotoxin," he confirmed.
Retracing their steps, they avoided exposed platforms and corridors, guided by Tobias' visions and Trace's analytical vigilance. Every movement was deliberate, avoiding potential ambush points where the fifth assassin might strike again. The combination of foresight and calculated observation allowed them to move faster than any patrol could intercept. Time was precious, the Duke's condition worsening with each passing second.
Back in the palace, the Duke's physician administered the antidote under Tobias' supervision. Archimedes' breathing steadied, color returning gradually to his face. Tobias exhaled in relief, though the visions continued to flash warnings of future threats. "He'll recover," The physician said quietly, monitoring the Duke's vitals. Tobias knew House Mordred's reach extended beyond this single strike.
"Trace, Mr. Ksavir, a moment of your time if you please," spoke Tobias in a hushed tone, his voice filled with worry and yet, also purpose. "The assassin responsible for Father's state couldn't have made it out of the Capital, do you think you can discern their location? Trace, you know this world better than anyone, I'll need you by my side to apprehend this would-be murder. Are you with me?"
Trace did not answer immediately, his eyes flicking toward the palace windows as if he expected the walls themselves to be listening. He gave a slow nod instead, the kind born of experience rather than confidence, and folded his arms as he considered the problem. "If they're still planetside, they'll be moving through places no honest man goes," he said quietly. "Old maintenance tunnels, forgotten docks, or the lower habitation levels where records are thin and faces blur together."
Kvasir Jurgensson Watts-Burke smiled faintly, though there was no humor in his eyes as he adjusted the cuff of his immaculate jacket. "The capital is loud with noise but quiet with truth," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "If the assassin fled in haste, they will have left data scars behind, anomalies in transit logs, surveillance gaps that are too perfect to be coincidence." He tapped the side of his temple lightly, as though the vaults of House Cocytus already whispered answers to him.
Tobias felt the faint pressure of his prescience stir, not yet a vision but a tightening of possibility, like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon. "Then we hunt them together," he said, resolve hardening in his tone as he met both men's gazes. "Trace, you lead us through the streets and shadows, and Kvasir, you will peel back the lies this city tells itself." Somewhere deep within the capital, Tobias knew, the future was already shifting, and whether his father lived or died would depend on how quickly they moved now.