Inside the chest, resting on black velvet, are six rods made of a dark, matte metal. They are about two feet long, smooth, and featureless except for a single silver rune etched into the handle.
"The Quietus Batons," I introduce them.
I pick one up. It feels heavy and cold.
"Most of your trouble will come from drunk nobles or belligerent merchants. You cannot decapitate a Duke because he refuses to wait in line. It is bad for business."
I toss the rod to Vex. He catches it.
"Grip it tight," I order. "And tap the table."
Vex taps the heavy oak table lightly.
Thrum.
There is no sound of impact. Instead, a wave of silent, concussive force ripples through the wood. The solid oak leg of the table instantly turns to sawdust, and the table collapses with a crash.
Vex jumps back, nearly dropping the rod.
"It discharges kinetic force directly into the target," I explain. "If you hit a man in the arm, the bone shatters, but the skin doesn't break. If you tap him on the head... he goes to sleep for a week. Use them for crowd control. They leave no bruises, only internal regrets."
I move to the next chest. This one contains bundles of what look like silver wires, coiled tightly.
"Gossamer-Webs," I say. "For when you need to take a prisoner alive."
"It looks like jewelry," Katar grunts.
"Throw it," I command, pointing to a dummy armor stand in the corner.
Katar picks up a coil and hurls it. Mid-air, the wire explodes outward, expanding into a glittering net. It wraps around the armor stand.
"Now, pull," I say.
The net constricts. The metal of the armor stand groans and then buckles, crushed inward as the wires tighten.
"The more they struggle, the tighter it gets," I say. "It can crush plate armor. If you catch a thief in this, do not leave him too long, or you will be sweeping him up with a dustpan."
I move to the third chest. Inside are bows. But they are not made of wood. They are made of Glass-Iron, translucent and terrifyingly beautiful. There are no quivers of arrows.
"Where are the shafts?" Sinat asks, picking up a bow. It is light as a feather.
"Pull the string," I say.
Sinat draws the string back. As he does, the air moisture condenses rapidly, forming a jagged, crystalline arrow of pure ice on the rest.
"Frost-Bite Bows," I explain. "Infinite ammunition, as long as there is air in your lungs. The arrow flies silently. It pierces steel. And within ten minutes of impact, it melts. No murder weapon. No evidence."
Riven runs a hand over his shaved scalp. He looks terrified and delighted.
"These are assassins' weapons, my Queen." Riven says.
"We are entering a cold war, Riven," I say. "Cold wars require cold weapons."
I reach into the final chest. This one is smaller. I pull out five small, dark spheres. They look like obsidian marbles.
"Void-Pearls," I whisper.
I hold one up to the light. It seems to suck the brightness out of the room.
"If the Bank is breached... if there are too many of them... if you are overrun..."
I look at each of them.
"Smash this on the floor."
"What does it do?" Riven asks.
"It creates a sphere of absolute darkness," I say. "Not just 'lights out'. Magical darkness. No torch can pierce it. No Fey sight can see through it. It also silences all sound within the sphere."
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I place the pearl back in the box.
"Inside that darkness, you are blind. But so are they. And you know the layout of the Bank. They do not. It turns the Great Hall into a slaughterhouse. You have five minutes before the darkness fades. Make sure that when the lights come back on, you are the only ones standing."
Riven nods slowly. He takes the box of pearls and clips it to his belt.
"And for you, Commander," I say, walking to a separate stand covered in a cloth.
I pull the cloth away.
It is a shield. But unlike Duke Webbe’s gaudy billboard, this one is made of Mirror-Steel. It is perfectly reflective, like a pool of mercury.
"The Spell-Eater," I say.
Riven touches it. His reflection stares back at him, distorted and fierce.
"If a mage casts at you, fire, lightning, force, catch it on the shield. It doesn't just block the spell. It absorbs the energy and stores it."
I point to the rim of the shield, which is edged in razor-sharp crystals.
"Then, when you bash them with the shield... it releases the spell back into them. Point-blank."
Riven picks up the shield. He slides his arm through the straps. He weighs it.
"If Webbe sees this," Riven grins, showing his teeth, "he will weep."
"Let him weep," I say. "Tears rust armor."
I step back. My squad is equipped. They have the batons for the drunks, the nets for the thieves, the ice-bows for the spies, and the darkness for the armies.
"Suit up," I order. "Tonight, we run a drill. I want to see if you can take the Vault from Kenric and me."
"You and the Lord Kenric?" Riven asks.
"Yes," I smile, summoning a ball of blue fire in my hand. "Try not to die."
Kenric groans from the doorway. "I was hoping for a quiet dinner."
"Training is dinner for the wolf, husband," I say. "Now go get your sword. Riven is going to try to catch you in a net."
Riven bows low. "It will be an honor to hunt you, My Lord."
"I hate this family," Kenric mutters, but he is already reaching for his blade.
I shake my head, "We'll do this later. Say… midnight?"
Riven nods.
I turn and walk out. Kenric opens the door for me.
As we walk down the hallway, back toward the mundane world of ledgers and interest rates, Kenric exhales.
"Kili Uin," Kenric muses. "I haven't heard anyone call you that in a long time."
"It is a useful name," I say. "It saves time on negotiations."
"He looked like he wanted to kiss your boots," Kenric notes. "Or die for you. Possibly both."
"He is Wild-Kin, Kenric," I explain. "They crave a strong leader. I just showed them the biggest teeth in the forest."
"Remind me," Kenric says, taking my arm, "never to make you angry enough to use that voice on me."
"You are safe, husband," I smile, patting his hand. "You are not an employee. You are management."
The Bank at midnight is a cathedral of shadows. The moonlight filtering through the glass roof casts long, skeletal bars of silver across the slate floor.
" The rules are simple," I announce, my voice echoing in the empty hall.
I am standing near the front entrance, wearing a simple tunic and trousers. Lantecari is sheathed on my back. Beside me, Kenric is rolling his shoulders, loosening up. He is armed with a wooden practice sword, weighted to match his steel one.
At the far end of the hall, standing before the Gold Door that leads to the Vault, are Riven and his four men. They are silhouettes against the brass.
"We are the thieves," I call out. "Our objective is to touch the Gold Door. Your objective is to stop us."
"Lethal force?" Riven asks. His voice is calm.
"Simulated lethal," I correct. "If you hit me with a Quietus Baton, I will acknowledge the limb is broken. If you catch me in a Gossamer-Web, I surrender. But be warned..."
I draw Lantecari. The blade hums, sensing the coming violence.
"I will be using magic. Tier One only. Kinetic bolts, flash-bangs, and minor illusions. If I hit you, you stay down."
Kenric draws his wooden sword. "And I," he adds, "will be fighting dirty. Because that is what thieves do."
Riven nods once. He lowers the visor of his new helm.
"Begin."
The hall explodes into motion.
I don't run. I flow. I slip into the space between seconds, dashing toward the first pillar.
Thwip. Thwip.
Two crystalline arrows shatter against the stone inches from my head. Sinat and Katar are on the balcony with the Frost-Bite Bows. They are fast.
"Suppression fire!" Kenric shouts. He grabs a heavy brass spittoon and hurls it at the balcony. It clangs loudly against the railing, forcing Sinat to duck.
Kenric uses the distraction to sprint low, sliding behind a marble counter.
I vault over the counter to join him.
"Two on the roof," I report. "Three on the floor."
"Vex is flanking left," Kenric says, pointing. "I saw his shadow."
"I'll take Vex. You take the middle."
"Go."
I break cover. I summon a ball of blue light,a Strobe-Flare,and toss it into the air. It detonates in a blinding pulse.
Sinat and Katar cry out, blinded.
I rush the left flank. Vex steps out from behind a pillar. He swings the Quietus Baton.
He is fast. But I am Kili Uin.
I duck under the swing. The baton hits the pillar. Thrum. The stone cracks with a sickening sound.
I sweep Vex’s legs. He falls. Before he hits the ground, I tap his chest with the flat of my blade.
"Dead," I whisper.
I keep moving.
In the center of the room, Kenric is engaged with Thorn.
Thorn is huge, wielding a glaive. He sweeps it low, trying to take Kenric’s legs. Kenric jumps the blade, lands on the shaft, and drives his elbow into Thorn’s nose.
Thorn staggers. Kenric spins and kicks him into the counter.
"Two down," Kenric pants.
We are thirty feet from the Gold Door. Only Riven remains.
He stands directly in front of the Vault. He is holding the Spell-Eater Shield and a baton.
"Surrender," Riven says.
"Make me," I challenge.
I throw a Kinetic Bolt,a punch made of solid air. It flies across the room, fast enough to knock a horse over.
Riven doesn't dodge. He raises the shield.
The bolt hits the mirrored surface.
CRACK.
The shield doesn't just block the magic; it eats it. The mirror glows violet for a split second.
Then Riven slams the shield forward.
The energy reflects back at me, amplified.
"Víl?!" Kenric shouts.
He tackles me. We hit the floor as the reflected bolt screams over our heads and shatters a decorative vase behind us.
"It works," I wheeze, impressed.
"Too well," Kenric grunts, rolling to his feet.
We scramble up. Riven is advancing. Katar and Sinat have recovered their vision and are nocking fresh ice arrows.
"We're pinned," Kenric says.
"Time for the grand finale," Riven calls out.
He reaches for his belt. He pulls out a Void-Pearl.
He smashes it on the floor.
Ohhh Chapter 136 was a chef?kiss masterpiece of controlled chaos, magical warfare, and family bonding that could only exist in a household where “date night” means running a live?fire infiltration scenario with your spouse.
Let’s begin.
The armory in this chapter?
Oh my stars.
Víl? casually opens chest after chest like she’s showing off new kitchen gadgets, except instead of slicers and dicers you get:
- Quietus Batons — the “boneless chicken wing” of concussive trauma
- Gossamer?Webs — the net equivalent of a hug from a black hole
- Frost?Bite Bows — because ammo is for peasants
- Void?Pearls — portable existential dread
- A Spell?Eater Shield — Webbe’s shield wishes it could aspire to this
Meanwhile, Oskar thinks the height of military technology is a polished sword and a stern expression.
This was the chapter where Riven’s murder?pack officially graduated from: “Dangerous drifters with impulse?control issues” to “Elite, bank?approved, magic?wielding nightmares who file reports.”
They handle these weapons like kids opening presents, if those presents could break bones, invert ribcages, and create localized pockets of absolute darkness.
Oskar would have screamed at the first Quietus thrum.
He would have yelled at the table for “attacking” him.
Ah yes. The “friendly” spar.
Víl? and Kenric decide to test their new guard squad by role?playing thieves.
Because naturally, when you love someone, you challenge them to mortal combat in your own bank.
Highlights:
- Víl?: “I will be using magic.”
- Kenric: “I will be fighting dirty.”
- Riven: “Understood.”
- Oskar (if present): “Why is everyone running? Are we late for dinner?”
The drill goes feral:
- Arrows fly
- Nets tighten
- Quietus Batons thrum
- Víl? is literally slipping between seconds
- Kenric is improvising with brass spittoons
- Someone is definitely concussed
- Everyone is having the time of their lives
Except Oskar, who would have already forfeited by falling over a decorative rug.
Let’s talk about Riven catching a Kinetic Bolt, amplifying it, and firing it BACK like some kind of magical uno?reverse card forged in a volcano.
Víl?: “Amazing.”
Kenric: “Terrifying.”
Decorative Vase: “I died for this.”
Oskar would have burst into tears.
Kenric’s entire mood this chapter:
“I adore my wife, but also, I regret every choice that led me to being hunted by professionally violent Fey with magic weapons.”
He loves her.
He supports her.
He is also rapidly reevaluating his life insurance policy.
Oskar would have passed out during the warm?up stretches.
This man went from:
- “We don’t serve soft nobles”
to - “My Queen, we are honored to hunt you.”
And honestly?
Iconic.
Oskar wishes someone would address him with even fake respect.
Chapter 137 is the ultimate marriage between training exercise and absolute chaos:
- Víl? shows off terrifying magical weaponry
- Riven and the pack prove they are the sharpest tools in the murder shed
- Kenric spars like the world’s most put?upon husband
- A vase dies heroically
- Oskar contributes absolutely nothing, as usual