Lauren had come with news—and not the good kind.
In the days since, the Office of Inquest and Judgment had chased down every thread tied to the Redstone Village massacre. They'd grabbed Gray Cat Alai and, through him, the handler above both him and Bas: a man called Black Corpse Abu.
The Judicial Division put Abu through "special examination." One of the four High Adjudicators, Manolobana Gura, carried it out personally, grinding Abu's soul nearly to powder and prying out several key leads.
Verdict so far: the Polluters—a sect within the Doomsday cult—were behind the operation. Their aim was to use some sort of fragment to summon a powerful eldritch being, wipe out humanity, and win so-called eternal life in the dark.
Redstone's relocation convoy had been a target for a long time. The cult seeded an inside agent in the village even before relocation began. With that insider's help, they slipped past the Guardian and hit the convoy with precision.
Which left three big questions:
Was the plan truly viable—real threat or fanatic delusion?
Why Redstone Village in particular—what made it special?
Who was the insider? Dead… or gone to ground?
On these, the four High Adjudicators disagreed. Manolobana insisted Rod was highly suspect. He wanted the "two-finger leniency" revoked immediately, Rod arrested, and subjected to special examination to rip out whatever secrets his soul hid.
The other two—Black Bear and Mipol—didn't agree. The Grand Adjudicator Lucien didn't back Manolobana either, so the winds were still blowing Rod's way.
But the frontlines were heating up. Tension was bleeding into the capital. Every defense bureau braced for cult sabotage. The Office's pressure spiked; "clean cuts" started looking attractive. The fourth High Adjudicator, who'd been neutral, was drifting toward Manolobana.
If it settled into a two-to-two split, Lucien might "balance" the scales by switching sides.
"The worst part," Lauren said, "is the letter you sent to Gray Cat Alai—asking him to deliver a box to Redstone. Manolobana is latched onto that. He's nearly convinced you're the insider."
By the time Lauren finished, Rod's stomach had turned to ice. If he had to judge himself on the facts… he'd probably call himself the culprit too.
"But we don't believe it."
Lauren's gray eyes met his; a corner of his mouth hinted at a smile.
Relief warmed Rod—then confusion.What are you, my secret royal dad?
No such luck.
"The biggest crack in that theory," Lauren went on, "is that at the time, you weren't even an Ignited. And later, when you did ignite, your soul showed no pollution—no taint from foul power."
"Using a regular person as an insider? That's not how the Doomsday cult operates. It's bad tradecraft. And your conduct in the Academy has been exemplary. We've found nothing off about you. You look exactly like any ordinary entrant."
Rod's heart lurched.
They have people watching me in the Academy?
Cold sweat slid down his back. He wasn't spotless: he'd made that odd hand-sign to enter the dream more than once; his sudden passion for linguistics and Old Tongue stuck out. And per Aunt Yusa's warning, unknown sigils and unknown rites were red flags—forbidden.
If someone connected those dots, his one solid ally might stop believing him.
Careless. Of course they wouldn't just unleash an unknown risk into their most precious nursery of hope.
Thankfully, no one had seen him make the sign. Otherwise he'd probably already be rotting in a cell.
He kept his face even, listening as Lauren laid out the case and answering questions when asked. Inside, he cataloged the implications: if Lauren was telling him this, trust was real—but caution still mattered.
No more hand-signs where anyone could see.And in the Academy, be even more exemplary. From Lauren's tone, being a model student weighed heavily in his favor.
I need my fireseed checkup ASAP. Time to make the second fireseed public.
With that decided, he focused back on Lauren.
"We're headed to see the Administrator of Outer District Two—crucial witness," Lauren said. "But first, you have to report to the Office for questioning. Manolobana demanded it."
The horseless car slid through empty avenues—always empty, always tense. Soon it nosed toward a tall wall. Red-cloaked sentries waved them through without a word. The road dropped steeply into a tunnel; the driver never touched the brake.
"Is the Upper City that high?" Rod asked, testing.
Lauren nodded. "Upper City's halfway up the Ash-of-Death Range. Lower City is at the base. The capital was built with its back to the mountains."
Rod's curiosity sparked—none of this was in their textbooks."What's on the other side of the range?"
"The Shadow Plain."
"Monsters ever come over the mountains?"
"They do."
"So what then?"
"The Nightwatch Legion built a long wall along the mountain crest. They hold the northern threats back."
Rod had more questions, but Lauren cut the subject short.
"You'll meet my teacher shortly—Black Bear. He's running the case. One of the four High Adjudicators—and head of House Mipol."
Lauren's gaze flicked over. "A warning. Though Mipol opposes Manolobana's take, his support of you goes beyond necessity. Casha Mipol is his pampered youngest. Don't toy with feelings. If you pull anything of the sort, the Conduct Committee will be the least of your problems. Mipol will personally hand you to the Judicial Division."
Rod blinked.
That brat has those kinds of connections?
He wasn't exactly scared of her—but if that was true, then all his finely cultivated "EQ" was for nothing? The blue-and-white lady might as well be a dream. And then who would he call upon to save—ahem—to save him from the abyss, one tender heart at a time?