A moment later, the air a few inches above the token shimmered. A small, floating visual projection stabilized, revealing the dim, dusty interior of the attic observation post in the outer rings of the capital.
Mariella's face appeared in the projection. She was no longer wearing the drab headscarf from her previous report. Her silver hair was tied back severely, and her blue eyes were sharp, scanning the projection with professional caution before recognizing the man beneath the layered disguise. The connection was flawless, the image crisp and clear despite the distance.
"Leader," Mariella greeted, her voice a low, controlled whisper. She looked closely at his altered features, a flicker of genuine professional respect crossing her eyes. "Your disguise is exceptional. Dominante outdid herself, and your magical suppression is absolute. I cannot sense a single trace of the artifacts' mana."
"A necessity for the environment I am about to enter," Lencar replied, his voice maintaining its natural timbre but kept low to avoid echoing in the quiet forest. "I am currently standing in the tree line on the eastern outskirts of the capital. My alibi in Nairn is secure. I am ready to move into the city."
Mariella's brow furrowed slightly in the projection. "You intend to enter the capital today? Leader, the security grid is unprecedented. The Magic Knight squads have erected overlapping, high-density sensory wards across all the main gates and the major commercial checkpoints. They are scanning every single traveler, merchant, and noble for unregistered magical items and hostile intent. The banquet has them on edge."
"I have no intention of walking through the front door and offering myself up for inspection," Lencar stated smoothly. "I require a blind spot. A fissure in their armor. How does one bypass the royal checkpoints?"
Mariella sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She had spent years operating in hostile territories, and she knew the underbelly of Kikka better than most native citizens.
"The formal routes are impassable for someone trying to stay off the grid," Mariella explained, her tone turning analytical. "But the capital has a vast, ancient sewer and catacomb system. It connects directly to the lower slums and, ultimately, to the primary Black Market hub that operates beneath the city. You can enter the capital through the routes used by the Black Market veterans and the high-tier smuggling rings."
"A smuggler's route," Lencar mused, the idea appealing to his need for absolute discretion. "I assume it is heavily guarded."
"Not by the Magic Knights, but by the syndicates that control the tunnels," Mariella corrected. "They don't care about your identity or your magical signature. They only care about profit. It is a highly guarded secret, and they charge an exorbitant toll for safe passage past the subterranean beasts and the localized traps. It will be incredibly pricey."
Lencar let out a soft, amused scoff. Thanks to his arrangement with Garrick and Dominante's artifacts, funding was the absolute least of his concerns. He had enough raw platinum and gold coins sitting in his spatial ring to buy a half of estates in the noble realm, let alone bribe a few tunnel guards.
"The price is irrelevant. Send me the coordinates to the external entrance of this route," Lencar commanded. "I will navigate the tunnels and meet you inside the city walls."
"I will meet you in the Black Market itself," Mariella offered. "It is the safest, most neutral ground in the lower districts. The Magic Knights rarely patrol down there during the festival; they are too busy guarding the nobles. I will transmit the location of a specific tavern within the market known as 'The Blind Basilisk'."
"Understood," Lencar said. But before she could cut the connection, he raised a hand to stop her.
Operating in the shadows required paranoia. He was walking into a chaotic, volatile environment just hours before a massive terrorist attack. The Eye of the Midnight Sun employed spatial mages and potentially shapeshifters. The capital was a labyrinth of deceit.
"Mariella," Lencar said, his voice dropping into a colder, deeply serious register. "When I arrive at the Black Market, I will be looking for you, but we cannot rely on visual confirmation alone. Transformation magic exists. Illusions exist. If our enemies intercept our movements, we need an absolute method of verifying our identities before we make contact."
Mariella nodded instantly, completely understanding the tactical necessity. As a former assassin, she thrived on paranoia. "A passphrase protocol. A call and response."
"Exactly," Lencar confirmed. "But it cannot be something mundane. It cannot be a common phrase that someone might accidentally guess or overhear in passing. It needs to be completely random, highly specific, and entirely unpredictable. If the response is off by a single syllable, we treat the other person as hostile and engage immediately."
"I agree," Mariella said, her eyes narrowing as she processed the parameters. "What is the phrase, Leader?"
Lencar thought for a moment. He needed something that sounded like complete nonsense to an eavesdropper, but carried a distinct, memorable cadence for the two of them.
"When I approach you," Lencar began, ensuring his enunciation was perfect, "I will say: 'I heard the river flows upward during the drought.'"
Mariella repeated the phrase silently, committing the exact wording to her memory. "A bizarre statement. The response?"
"You will look at me and reply: 'But only when the silver foxes bark,'" Lencar instructed.
"Understood," Mariella said.
"We need a secondary confirmation, just to be absolute," Lencar added, leaving no room for error. "After your response, I will follow up with: 'I've heard the tavern serves salted iron.'"
"And my final confirmation?"
"You will tell me: 'Only if you pay with rusted feathers.'"
Mariella offered a sharp, approving nod. The exchange was utter lunacy, a poetic string of contradictions that no shape-shifting spy or eavesdropping Magic Knight could ever successfully guess or replicate under pressure. It was the perfect verbal lock and key.
"The phrases are secured, Leader," Mariella confirmed. "The river flows upward during the drought. Only when the silver foxes bark. The tavern serves salted iron. Only if you pay with rusted feathers."
"Flawless," Lencar said. "I am moving out. Send the coordinates to the tunnel entrance. I will see you in the dark."
He cut the connection, the glowing projection vanishing into the cool night air. He slipped the obsidian token back into his concealed pouch. A moment later, a faint, rhythmic pulse vibrated through his mana core—Mariella transmitting the geographical coordinates via the encrypted link.
Lencar adjusted his slouched posture, ensuring the brass amulet was sitting perfectly flat against his chest, and began his long, silent walk toward the hidden entrance.