The rectangular box mounted to the wall was now fully open, revealing something Alaric hadn't expected at all. It wasn't a stack of documents, nor a cache of jade, and certainly not the usual firearms like pistols or rifles he often found in smuggling cases.
Inside, there was just one object.
Its shape was strange. Resembling a pentagon, with edges so precisely carved it looked like a miniature shield, small enough to be held with both hands. The surface was a dark gray, reflecting a faint glint from the room's overhead light. It was made of an ancient, solid metal, cold and unyielding. Every engraved line spoke of craftsmanship beyond ordinary skill, the work of artisans who understood not only how to shape metal, but also the hidden purpose behind the form.
