The office was vast.
The walls were lined with floating holographic screens displaying shipping routes and fluctuating currency values. Behind a desk large enough to land a glider on, sat Manager Lorn.
Lorn was a man carved from flint and wrapped in silk. He wore a tailored suit of charcoal, his silver hair slicked back with severe precision. He exuded the specific kind of power that had nothing to do with mana and everything to do with leverage.
As Regius entered, Lorn stood up immediately. He rounded the desk and bowed deeply.
"Lord Aethel," Lorn said. "It is an honor to finally meet the heir of the—"
Regius didn't stop walking. He stepped into the bow, interrupting the motion with a firm hand extended for a shake.
"Here, I am just a hunter, Manager Lorn," Regius said. "Let's dispense with the titles."
Lorn froze for a second. He looked at the hand, then up at Regius's violet eyes. He saw no arrogance, only a utilitarian focus.
He smiled—a thin expression that didn't reach his eyes—and gripped Regius's hand.
"Understood... Sir. Please, leave the materials on the table and take a seat."
Regius opened his spatial storage by tapping a sequence to his Sigil Link. The high-grade materials were transferred to it during the elevator ride. He materialized steel boxes in varying sizes laid in order on the table.
Lorn returned to his chair, tapping the surface of his desk. A holographic scan appeared between them. It rotated slowly, testing the value of the materials
"Your squad's haul," Lorn began, leaning back. "The Alpha Core especially. It is... exquisite. We usually see cores from borderland raids cracked or tainted. This one is in pristine condition."
"We are efficient," Regius said.
"Efficiency is profitable," Lorn agreed. "Surgical extraction implies a level of dominance over the target that is rare for a Rank 2 squad."
Regius remained silent. He knew Lorn was probing, trying to reconcile the data with the young man sitting before him.
"However," Lorn continued, swiping the hologram away. "Efficiency in combat is one thing. Efficiency in the market is another. Which brings me to a delicate matter."
Lorn tapped a button. The screens on the wall shifted, showing a map of the trade routes leading into the Aethel Domain. Several were flashing red.
"The Union monitors trends, Sir. We act as the weather watchers for the general area. And lately, the wind in this sector reeks of… decay." Lorn folded his hands. "We have noticed a 40% uptick in discreet purchases. High-grade toxins and armor. Military-grade mana jammers."
Regius's expression didn't change. "A lot of hardware for bandits."
"Precisely, bandits buy second-hand weapons. These purchases are sophisticated. Designed for assassination. Specifically, the assassination of a high-value target operating in the borderlands."
Regius leaned back, crossing his legs casually. "I imagine a man in your position knows exactly who is signing the checks."
"The Union is neutral," Lorn recited the company line. "Client confidentiality is the bedrock of our institution. If I sold names, I would be out of business by noon."
"But?"
"But..." Lorn's eyes gleamed with avarice. "Neutrality does not mean blindness. And it certainly does not mean we enjoy seeing our markets disrupted by clumsy internecine affairs."
Lorn slid a physical data chip across the mahogany desk.
"I cannot give you a specific name. However, I can share a shipping manifest that was flagged for a clerical error. It details a delivery of toxins to a shell company operating out of an office in the lower district. The shell company is a subsidiary of Marius Mining Corp. Who owns this mining corp? I have no idea."
Regius looked at the chip. House Marius.
The realization clicked into place. The Marius family was a Bloc house—petty nobility built on fraud, lavish lifestyles, and dwindling resources. House Marius held a generational grudge against House Aethel for land they felt was stolen.
"What exactly do you want, Manager?" Regius asked, his gaze piercing. "The Union doesn't do anything for free. Where is the profit in helping me?"
"Because House Marius is a dying horse," Lorn said. "They are leveraged to the hilt, their mines are drying up, and they are spending their last reserves on petty vendettas. They are a liability to the regional market, to the Union."
Lorn pointed a manicured finger at Regius.
"But you... you are a rising asset. I have read the reports. I want to invest."
"Invest in what?"
"In your future, of course. I want you to sign a Gilded Contract."
Regius raised an eyebrow. "You want a monopoly on my loot?"
"I want a partnership. You sign with the Aurum Union. In exchange, you get market priority on rare goods. You get asset protection. And, most importantly for a man in your position... you get a Black Signature."
Regius paused. He knew the term. "A shadow ledger."
"Invisible to the State," Lorn said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Invisible to your father. Invisible to House Marius. You can move funds, purchase equipment, and hire hands without leaving a single ripple in your personal account. Total financial anonymity."
Regius ran the logic in his mind. He was leaving the Iron Swords soon. He would be alone, hunting in the dark. He needed resources that couldn't be traced back to House Aethel. He needed a way to wash the loot he took from the assassins he killed and more he will kill in the future.
"And the cost?" Regius asked.
"Exclusive rights," Lorn said. "Everything you kill that is Rank 4 or higher comes to me. Not the state. Not the open market. Me—the Union."
It was a steep price. Rank 4 loot and above was where the real fortune lay. But the anonymity... that was priceless.
"It's a fair trade," Regius decided. "Deal."
Lorn beamed—a genuine smile. He pressed a panel on his desk, and a black glass scanner rose from the surface.
"Place your link here, Sir."
Regius hesitated. He placed his arm on the glass.
A beam of dark, ultraviolet light swept over his Sigil Link. Lasers etched the Black Signature into his digital ledger, burying itself beneath the official layers of his noble status.
Ping.
[BLACK SIGNATURE ACTIVE.]
Regius exhaled.
"A pleasure doing business, Sir." Lorn stood up. He tapped a sequence into his terminal, and a chime popped up. A total of 50,000 credits was transferred to the squad's shared account.
"Your payment for the Rank 2 materials. A transfer of 50,000 Credits to your squad's account."
"Pleasure doing business," Regius nodded. He grabbed the data chip containing the Marius intel and turned to the door.
"One more thing, Hunter," Lorn called out just as Regius reached the handle.
"Yes?"
"The world is a shark tank," Lorn said, his voice devoid of its usual sleekness. "House Marius is just the parasite attached to a bigger beast. I recommend watching your back."
Regius didn't look back. "They should be the one to watch their throats."
He walked out of the office, his face a mask of casual boredom.
The squad looked up from their snacks. Milo had icing on his cheek.
"Everything good, Boss?" Kael dusted the crumbs from his armor.
"Standard paperwork," Regius said. "Just haggling over the exchange rate. The Union tries to pinch every penny. Check our account."
Milo tapped his link. His eyes widened as he saw the incoming transaction.
"Fifty... T-This could pay for everything."
"Let's go," Regius clapped his shoulder. "We have a birthday to get to."
"Finally!" Vera stretched her massive arms. "This place makes me itch. Too much velvet."
As the squad walked out, laughing and joking, discussing which shops to hit next and what color ribbon to put on Sarra's gift, Regius felt the data chip burning a hole in his spatial storage.
He followed them out into the sun, the shadow of the coming night stretching out before him, unseen by everyone but the boy who carried the stars in his blood.
———
The heavy mahogany door clicked shut, sealing the office in silence once more.
Manager Lorn walked to the reinforced glass window. He looked down at the street below, watching the five figures of the Iron Swords mount their cycles. They looked small from this height, insignificant specks in the machinery of the city.
"Sir?"
The assistant stepped out of the shadows of the corner, stroking the feathers of her owl. The summon was still shivering, its head tucked firmly beneath its wing, refusing to look at the door where Regius had exited.
"What is he?" Her voice trembled slightly. "My summon is terrified. It wouldn't even scan him."
"It wouldn't scan him because it sees him as a threat," Lorn said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Tell me, did you see the police report from the Industrial District this morning?"
"I did. Three dead bodies were found in a secluded alley. Unidentified."
"Not unidentified." He tapped the glass of the window. A holographic screen materialized, displaying a grainy crime scene photo. "My informants confirmed them as Rank 3 assassins hired by a sleazy broker. And do you know how they died?"
He swiped the screen, enlarging the autopsy notes.
"Single blows. Instant kills. No struggle. No magical residue."
"How are you so sure it's him?"
"A gut feeling."
"But, doing that alone? A Rank 2 killing three Rank 3s? That's… impossible."
"There's a term for people like him, Unicorns," Lorn said, watching Regius's matte-black cycle flare to life and speed away into the traffic.
"Unicorns?"
"Anomalies in the market…"
Lorn turned back to his desk. The high-grade materials contained in steel boxes sat on the table—a symbol of the near impossible quality Regius could provide.
"He is playing a game that the rest of the world hasn't even realized has started," Lorn said, a greedy light kindling in his eyes. "Rumor has it he's aiming for the Academy in the next term."
"He'll be eaten alive by those Savants…"
"Or, they will fall prey."
He smiled and raised his glass in a toast to the empty room.
"If that boy grows old... he is going to make us richer than Gods."