Lance and his party went straight for the Imperial Embassy, moving like a dark stream cutting through lamplight.

They stopped at the front gate, a row of figures braced like spears in the wind.

Lance looked up at the building, grander than any house or even the royal palace, a mountain of stone under a cold sky.

“We’re here.” The Spy Mage halted first, his robes settling like dusk.

“Yeah. Let’s go in.” Heat pressed behind Lance’s ribs first, then his right hand curled into a fist like a drawn knot.

Inside, as before, the embassy was filled with Celestial Spirits, most of them of the Celestial Race, officials and merchants and travelers moving like a pale tide.

When the crowd saw humans, their eyes flicked with open disdain, sharp as frost on steel.

But when they recognized Lance, those narrowed eyes snapped wide, like shutters thrown open in a storm.

“It’s the Blazing Fire Knight!” someone shouted, the words cracking the air like a whip.

Stares turned strange and tangled, like weeds swaying under dark water, and awe tangled with fear.

Another squad of interrogators had just arrived, their steps had meant to block, but now they faltered like hooves on ice.

Lance and the rest strode through the embassy, each footfall steady as a drumbeat carrying into night.

A Celestial official came to lead them, and they reached a door along a second–floor corridor, the hallway long as a spear shaft.

Before opening, the official warned, each word a needle: “Don’t be rude when you see Lady Shadiya, human.”

The door swung open to a guest parlor dressed in gold and velvet, luxury piled like lacquer on lacquer.

Shadiya herself wasn’t there; on the center table sat a crystal sphere, its surface still as a frozen lake.

Two Celestial mages stood over it, fingers flicking like sparrows; one lifted a pocket wand and pointed at the sphere.

Light bloomed, and Shadiya’s figure spilled out, as if she’d stepped into the room with a rustle of silk.

It was a remote audience, a bridge of light strung across distance like a silver thread.

Shadiya appeared, her tone solemn yet edged, like a blade wrapped in brocade: “Isn’t this the Blazing Fire Knight? I’m so glad you got home safe.”

Lance felt the barb first, then his fist tightened until bone creaked, useless against a phantom face he couldn’t reach.

He dropped to one knee in courtesy, his voice steady as a held line: “Thanks to you, my snow–mountain road was peaceful, and my return easy and pleasant.”

That jab landed; Shadiya knew a handpicked unit had died for it, and her face soured like milk in heat, then twisted further with each thought.

Her expression smoothed again, a river frozen over: “To end your journey safely under my blessing—nothing could be finer.”

Old fox, Lance thought, bile rising like smoke; he didn’t want to waste another heartbeat fencing words.

“Lady Shadiya, it’s late. Do you have business?” His impatience flashed first, then he cut straight to the point like a knife through hemp.

“Just a glimpse of your noble face before bed,” she said, airy as ash, “or I’ll have nightmares.”

Her dig hit; Shadiya’s expression tightened again, like a drum pulled too hard.

The Spy Mage blinked, shocked that Lance dared spit fire at a royal, the surprise sharp as sleet.

But this duel belonged only to the two of them; the rest were stone lanterns in the garden, watching in silence.

Maybe the next topic pleased her, because Shadiya’s face smoothed once more, a mask lacquered and gleaming.

She smiled with a coiled look. “Blazing Fire Knight, I summoned you because I’ve got a good news and a bad news. Which one?”

“Do I get to refuse both?” Lance asked, his voice dry as dust.

“You don’t.” Her smile held pity and contempt, like perfume over rot.

Lance let the breath sink first, then said, “Start with the good.”

Her voice turned grand, rolling like thunder over a plain: “A week ago, a massive Shadowspirit fleet slipped past the coastal line, heading for your Doran. Our Imperial maritime special unit intercepted them. How about that?”

The room shivered with shock, eyes flaring like lanterns in a squall.

Lance didn’t blink. “That’s great… and the bad news?”

She shifted to a tragic lilt, the tone a funeral bell: “A sudden fog rolled in. We stopped only two. Ten ships sailed on. If the Strategic Bureau’s right, those ten are bound for Mu Bay…”

Everyone knew what ten heavy warships of the Shadowspirit Legion meant; the thought pressed down like a falling sky.

Shadiya spoke as if tasting glee, a sweetness curdled.

Silence poured into the parlor, thick as tar, swallowing breath and voice alike.

Lance’s clenched fist trembled, a caged flame stinging the air until even the light seemed to quiver.

He banked the fire and spoke flat, voice like cooled iron: “If it’s this big, where’s the Empire’s reinforcement?”

He was right; when the Shadowspirit Legion struck deep, Imperial forces usually arrived like storm riders, which would’ve made this urgent summons make sense.

But not this time. Shadiya pitched her voice into careful apology, each syllable polished: “Sorry. Reinforcements won’t be fast. The earliest mobilization lands in three days.”

“What, three days?!” the Spy Mage roared, his palm slamming the table like thunder, words tumbling like rocks, “Doesn’t the Empire have airships?! Why three days?!”

Shadiya switched to an office tone, dry as a ledger: “A Dark Spirit escaped inside the Empire. To ensure safety, the border knights are searching at full strength. The first unit free to move will be in three days.”

“So even if Doran falls, the Empire won’t lift a finger?!” the Spy Mage barked, fury spitting like sparks.

“Of course not,” Shadiya deflected, the smile thin as rice paper. “The military weighed it all. I’m just royalty; I wouldn’t know the details.”

“Damn it!” The Spy Mage collapsed onto the couch, despair flooding him like winter rain, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, eyes unfocusing.

“As for this, the Imperial military will notify you officially soon. And I—” Shadiya’s glance slid to Lance with a knife’s glint, “I’m just here to chat with a friend, right, Blazing Fire Knight?”

Lance laughed coldly, a shard of ice in a bowl of ink. “Sorry. People who stab me in the back don’t get called friends.”

Her lips curved, meaning coiled under varnish, and nausea rose in Lance like a bitter tide.

“Well, that’s the good and the bad. Now let’s see what Doran’s ‘great hero’ will do. However—”

Mid–word, the world dimmed, like clouds swallowing the sun, until only Lance and Shadiya remained in a hush.

A mind–art took hold, a private chamber built of shadow and breath.

Her voice slid only to him: “Blazing Fire Knight, you live for yourself. You want a quiet life. With Doran at the brink, will you step forward or not?”

Lance held the line of his breath, said nothing, and kept his face still as stone.

Light returned, the spell peeling back like morning fog, and Shadiya bowed to the room. “That’s all. Gentlemen, see you another day.”

Her figure winked out, leaving not even a ripple, as if she had never been.

The room held a dozen hungry stares and one silent Lance, his quiet as heavy as an anchor.

Minutes later, the Spy Mage stood, despair gone, traded for a resolve hard and cold as iron before the forge.

At the door he turned his head. “I’m going back to His Majesty. What about you, Lance?”

“I’m going back to Mu Bay.” The young knight rose, his words landing like a nailed vow.