The moment the Silver Dawn guards charged in, the underground den collapsed into panic.
Shouts erupted as lanterns were knocked over, flames sputtering against damp stone. Coins scattered across the floor as tables were overturned, gamblers scrambling back like startled vermin. One man tried to bolt for a side passage, only to be met with a shield slammed into his chest hard enough to lift him off his feet. Another reached beneath his cloak and froze as steel kissed his throat.
"On the ground!" a captain barked. "All of you!"
Saturo did not hesitate.
He stepped back from the gambling table, hands raised, face calm. Kael followed suit immediately, his movements controlled, eyes alert but compliant. Resistance would have been easy—too easy—but Saturo had already decided that tonight was not about strength.
It was about truth.
Within moments, the ring was secured. Guards moved with disciplined precision, binding wrists, disarming hidden blades, and cataloging evidence. No unnecessary blows were struck. No screams echoed for show.
Everyone present—dealers, enforcers, watchers, gamblers, and thieves—was arrested.
Including them.
Iron cuffs closed around Saturo's wrists, cold and solid. He felt Kael glance at him as they were pushed into line.
"We're really going through with this?" Kael murmured under his breath.
Saturo gave a barely perceptible nod. "Observe."
They were marched out into the night air. Rain had begun to fall, light but steady, washing the grime of the underground world from the streets above. Torches reflected off wet stone as the prisoners were escorted toward the inner districts.
Saturo took it all in—the guards' formations, their restraint, the way civilians watched without fear or hatred.
This is not a kingdom ruled by terror, he thought. This is order.
The building they were taken to was neither dungeon nor palace.
It stood solid and plain, its stone walls etched with the emblem of Silver Dawn. Inside, the air was warm and clean, lanterns casting steady light along wide corridors. Scribal desks lined the walls, records already being written as guards checked names and confiscated belongings.
The prisoners were separated and seated along the hall, each bound to a wooden bench. One by one, names were called, and individuals were escorted into adjoining chambers for questioning.
Some returned trembling, eyes hollow.
Others returned angry, defiance crumbling beneath scrutiny.
Saturo waited patiently, head lowered, listening.
Questions were methodical. Voices calm. No raised tones. No threats.
Justice before punishment, he noted.
Kael was called first.
He rose without complaint and followed the guards inside. The door closed behind him with a soft but final click.
Time stretched.
Saturo counted breaths, listening to the rhythm of the hall. When Kael eventually emerged, his expression was neutral—unharmed.
Saturo's turn came last.
"Aren Holt," a guard called.
Saturo stood.
The interrogation room was modest in size, lit by a single lantern hanging above a sturdy table. Shelves of neatly organized ledgers lined the walls. Two guards stood watch near the door, alert but relaxed.
And seated at the table—
Saturo paused for the briefest instant.
Silver hair, smooth and tied back with elegant simplicity. Hazel eyes lifted from a parchment to meet his.
Recognition flickered.
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.
"Well," she said, voice calm and composed, "it seems we meet again."
Saturo inclined his head politely, masking his surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here, my lady."
"Nor I you," she replied, studying him carefully. "Please. Sit."
She gestured to the chair opposite her. "Please. Sit."
He did.
For a moment, she studied him in silence—not with suspicion, but with focused curiosity.
"Your name," she said.
"Aren Holt."
Her quill moved smoothly across the page. "Occupation?"
"A traveler," he replied evenly. "Occasional guard work."
"You were found inside an illegal gambling operation tied to theft and fraud."
"Yes."
"And you did not attempt to flee when our guards arrived."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I had nothing to hide."
She paused, eyes lifting to search his face.
"You claim you were robbed earlier today."
"Yes. On the northern road. Three individuals posing as stranded travelers."
Her quill slowed. "You tracked them into the city."
"I did."
"With only one companion."
"Yes."
"That requires skill."
"Skilled tracking," she noted. "And unusual composure under arrest."
Saturo met her gaze steadily. "Survival often does."
For the first time, something like amusement flickered across her expression.
"Your companion's account aligns with yours," she said after a moment. "Details, timing, even descriptions."
One of the guards stepped forward and placed a familiar pouch on the table.
Saturo's coin
"Your belongings were recovered among the ring's holdings," she continued. "You are cleared of all suspicion."
She slid the pouch toward him.
"You are free to go, Aren Holt."
Saturo stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your fairness."
As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.
"Silver Dawn does not judge lightly," she said. "And we do not arrest without reason. But when innocence is proven… we do not cling to pride."
He glanced back at her.
"Our meeting before today," she added quietly, "I hope you do not hold my guards' actions against them."
"They were only doing their duty," Saturo replied sincerely.
Her smile returned—soft, genuine.
Back to the Inn
Kael was waiting outside when Saturo emerged.
"Well?" Kael asked.
"We're clear," Saturo said, handing him part of the recovered coin. "As expected."
Kael exhaled. "Good. I was starting to think they'd keep us overnight."
"They could have," Saturo replied. "They chose not to."
Kael sighed. "I am starting to think this was an elaborate lesson."
"In a way," Saturo said, glancing back at the building, "it was."
They returned to the inn under the silver glow of moonlight, exhaustion settling into their bones.
Dinner was simple and quiet. Neither spoke much, the weight of the night pressing gently but persistently.
Kael leaned back afterward. "You're awfully quiet."
Saturo shook his head faintly. "Just thinking."
That night, as Saturo lay staring at the ceiling, sleep came slowly.
Silver hair.
Hazel eyes.
The composed authority beneath gentle manners.
When sleep finally came, it was deep.
Morning light filtered through the shutters, painting the room in gold.
Saturo stood by the window, watching Silver Dawn awaken. Merchants opened their stalls. Guards greeted citizens by name. Laughter drifted through the streets.
Kael tightened his boots. "So. When do we head back?"
Saturo didn't answer immediately.
"Not yet," he said at last.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You're staying."
"Yes."
Kael smirked faintly. "I had a feeling this wasn't just about thieves."
Saturo didn't deny it.
Outside, Silver Dawn shimmered beneath the rising sun—open, vibrant, and hiding depths he had only begun to glimpse.
And somewhere within its walls, a silver-haired woman with hazel eyes was already leaving an impression he could not ignore.