Chapter 240: A Lie the King Cosigned
Richard is still staring at me when I put my hand on the door.
The money sits on the counter, glinting in small blue pieces under the bad tavern light. Zoe stands beside him, unsure whether to look at me, at the Shards, or at her father. Richard, on the other hand, has already understood enough to feel pain where there used to be only gratitude.
Fifteen percent is a good slice when you think the pie is small. When you find out the whole kitchen is running, the math turns bitter.
"You bastard," he repeats, with less force now.
"You negotiated well."
"I negotiated in the dark."
"Welcome to Thirstfall."
Richard makes a sound through his nose that almost becomes a laugh, but he holds it in. I pull a small scrap of paper from my inventory, write down my contact identifier, and leave it on one of the tables near the door.
"My mail ID," I say. "In case you’re still interested in my offer."
He looks at the paper, then at Zoe.
He doesn’t answer.
Better that way. Answers that come too fast are usually cheap. Richard needs to weigh a decision before accepting it. Especially one that means leaving the Red Squid Slums with his daughter and trusting part of his future to a kid who, months ago, asked to scrub his latrines for a few Scales.
Zoe makes a small motion with her head. Not quite a bow. Maybe not even intentional. I take it as a goodbye anyway.
I leave before the scene gets too sentimental.
The walk to the Oathmark feels shorter on the way back. Maybe because the Red Squid Slums is no longer just a miserable spot on the map, but an open account. Thomas, Lia, Zoe, Richard, Marden, the merchants, the ducts. All of it has stopped being scenery and turned into consequence.
I pay for the teleport without complaint.
This time the Oathmark’s light tears me out of Red Squid like a hand pulling someone from dirty water. My body still hates the process. My stomach turns, my bones seem to arrive half a second after my skin, and I have to blink a few times for my vision to stop splitting in two.
But the air comes different.
That’s the first thing I notice.
Azure Prime isn’t pure. No city in Thirstfall is. The air still carries the metallic taste of burned OXI, the undertone of salt and old energy that clings to the throat. But next to the Red Squid Slums, it feels like luxury. Controlled cold, built-in ducts, disciplined steam, streets wide enough that misery doesn’t have to brush against you at every step.
The towers reflect the ocean sky above, and for an instant the city looks clean.
But it isn’t.
It just has enough money to hide the filth better.
The Red Squid Slums isn’t poor because Thirstfall is cruel. It’s poor because someone learned to profit by keeping it that way.
I open the communicator on the group channel as I walk.
"Azurea Castle. Everyone. As soon as you can."
Veric’s answer comes too fast for someone who claimed to be busy.
"You talk like you live here now."
"I’m considering paying emotional rent, dear prince."
The reply is just a click of the tongue.
Rhayne joins the channel right after, her voice careful.
"Did something happen?"
"Plenty."
Oliver is the last.
"Should I bring my hammer or my junk?"
"Bring brains," I answer. "Weapons only if there’s room left over."
Veric sighs across the channel.
"So Oliver’s excused?"
"I heard that," Oliver says.
"Good. You were meant to." Veric again.
"Jealous of him and me, Veric? My heart has room for everyone."
I cut the line before the conversation turns into a three-way domestic argument. For a few seconds, their banter makes the morning feel lighter. Only for a few seconds.
Arriving at Azurea Castle is still strange. The guards recognize me too fast, and that bothers me more than it helps.
My father used to say small fame is useless, but big fame is a leash.
I move through the corridors of bluish stone, discreet crests, expensive tapestries, and windows that look out over a city that seems proud of its own wealth.
Garen receives us in a private room, different from the last one. No oversized table, no official theater. That alone says he already knows this conversation won’t be a clean one.
Veric leans near a window. Rhayne sits with her hands in her lap, watching my face as if trying to read wounds that aren’t on my body. Oliver stands, arms crossed, practical as always.
Garen lights a cigar, takes a drag, and points it at me.
"So, partner. What did you do in the Red Squid Slums?"
It seems they’ve already figured out something happened.
"I used your name."
The chain reaction is immediate. Veric closes his eyes. Rhayne tightens her hands, and Oliver mutters, "Off to a great start."
Garen doesn’t smile. That’s the first sign he’s actually listening.
I explain everything without unnecessary flourish. Richard. Zoe. Lia. Thomas Vale. The government junta breathing filtered air while the city coughed poison. The authorization pried loose under pressure. The patent registered. The fifteen establishments cleaned without charge. And the one simple message I left in every place: House Azurea was seeing what Thomas pretended not to.
When I finish, the room goes quiet.
Garen rests the cigar on the ashtray and laces his fingers on the table.
"Do you understand what you just did?"
"Yes."
"No." His voice doesn’t come loud, but it gets heavier. "I don’t think you do. You planted my banner where my administrators failed."
"Then maybe it’s time your banner arrived before they do."
Veric opens one eye, as if part of him wants to curse me out and another part is too busy weighing the play.
"You turned a rotten duct into a real campaign," he says.
"Ducts, not sewers."
"Same fragrance."
Rhayne doesn’t laugh at that one. Her eyes are fixed on me as she asks.
"Is Zoe safe?"
"For now. Richard has her."
"And Lia?"
"With enough money not to go back to work anytime soon."
Rhayne lowers her eyes, and I feel that, for her, this was the most important part of the whole meeting. Maybe it was. Politics changes cities slowly. Pulling one person out of the wrong hands changes their entire world at once. And it was because of who she was that I took the first step.
Oliver uncrosses his arms and comments.
"Thomas will retaliate."
"I know."
"Then we prepare the return before the return happens."
I nod. He’s right. Thomas is Rank B, a baron, corrupt, and now humiliated. A man like that doesn’t swallow a loss. He just chooses the hour of the bite.
Garen stays silent a few more seconds. Then he pulls out a sheet, writes something in firm handwriting, and presses the Azurea seal at the bottom with his Diver Mark beside it.
"From now on, if anyone asks, you were acting under my attention."
Veric turns his head toward his father.
"Father..."
"I know." Garen pushes the document to me. "Under my attention, Sands. Not under my unrestricted authorization. Don’t test my patience before dinner."
I take the paper.
"I’d never do that... I’m clearing the way for your plan."
Garen’s expression shifts, as if he only now grasps the real reason for my play, but Veric laughs without humor.
"You absolutely would. And before the appetizer."
I ignore him and tuck the document into my inventory, feeling the weight of the morning move somewhere new. I walked into the Red Squid Slums with a borrowed brooch and a well-dressed lie.
I walk out of Azure Prime with that lie cosigned by the King himself.
Now I have a patent, an authorization, and a freshly born official policy.
All that’s left is convincing the Silver Fang to breathe with me.
