The Silverleaf Autumnal was held three days after the Ceremony.
It took place at a neighboring estate—a place far wealthier than ours and far too eager to show it. Lanterns hung across the garden paths, glowing soft gold against the cool autumn air. Music drifted through the courtyard, just loud enough to fill the gaps between polite lies.
It was exactly like the formal gatherings I'd been forced to attend in my previous life. The same forced smiles. The same expensive drinks used as props.
I arrived with my family just after sunset. My father went to greet the hosts, Gareth was pulled into a discussion about trade, and Oswin disappeared toward the training grounds.
Within minutes, I was exactly where I wanted to be: Alone.
The news of the "Dull Stone Vayne" had traveled fast. No one insulted me, but no one acknowledged me either. To these people, I was just a clerical error in a fancy coat. It was the most freedom I'd felt in two lifetimes.
I moved along the edges of the gathering, taking a drink from a passing servant.
Conversations flowed around me like water. I listened, picking out what mattered. A merchant complaining about shipping delays. A minor lord mentioning increased patrols. Information was the only currency that didn't require a functional Core to spend.
Near the center of the lawn, a crowd had gathered. That was where Lady Seris Valorian stood.
Even from a distance, I could feel the faint, ozone tang of her Silver-Grade Lightning. She was a major figure in the novel—a person whose temper tantrums changed the map of the Empire. She spoke with a calm precision while everyone else leaned in, desperate for her notice.
On the opposite side of the lawn, I spotted Harken Solace.
He was leaning against a stone railing in a crisp cavalry uniform. He was the protagonist of the story, though right now, he just looked like a tired recruit. He didn't know what lived inside him yet. He was a sleeping volcano, and I had no intention of being around when he finally erupted.
"The view is better from the cheap seats, isn't it?"
The voice came from right beside me. I hadn't heard a single footfall.
I turned to find a boy my age. He had dark hair that was a bit too messy for a gala. He leaned against a pillar, holding a glass of juice with the relaxed posture of someone who found all of this hilarious.
"Less crowded," I said. "And fewer people trying to sell me things."
"God, tell me about it," he muttered, rolling his eyes toward the crowd. "Every time I go in there, someone tries to convince me their daughter is a genius. It's exhausting."
He didn't look at me with pity. He looked at me like a guy trapped at a boring party.
His attention lingered a little longer than it should have.
"You're Aldric, right?" he asked. "The Vayne who supposedly broke the Assessor's tuning fork?"
"I didn't break it," I replied. "It just didn't have anything to say to me."
He laughed—a genuine, low sound. "That's a better way to put it. I'm Kael."
I knew the name. Kael was the second son of a ducal house. In the novel, he appeared in two scenes and then vanished from the story entirely. Seeing him now, he felt much more real than the book suggested.
"A ducal son hiding in the bushes," I noted. "Your father must be thrilled."
"He's stopped looking for me," Kael said. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes drifting over the crowd. "You're not really here for the party, are you? You have the look of someone studying the room."
I felt a sharp pang of recognition at the phrasing, but I kept my face still. "I'm just observing. It's a hobby."
"A useful one for a Dull Stone," Kael said. "People forget that just because a room is quiet doesn't mean it's empty. We should grab a real drink when this is over."
"Maybe," I said.
He nodded and pushed off the pillar. "Well, I see my aunt looking for someone to lecture. Time to vanish. See you around, Aldric."
He disappeared into the crowd as silently as he'd arrived.
I watched him go.
Strange.
But not important. Not right now.
I turned my gaze back toward the estate's private gallery.
I checked the guard rotation one last time. I felt the weight of the ink-stained notes in my pocket.
The real reason I came here wasn't the gathering.
It was to steal something no one realized was missing.