Jezeri stood outside Scion Copperhand’s campus residence, calm after committing to the decision she had made back in the park. Night had descended in full now, and she counted it a sign that the sky above her head was empty of clouds, allowing the stars she loved so much to sparkle above her.


    A brief look to either side of the road outside the scion’s residence and, seeing no one, confidently made her way over to the fence alongside the simple, unguarded gate. People, let alone scions, rarely paid attention to Sentinels beyond a cursory glance. They assumed that any Sentinel wandering around the campus was likely on official Academy business — likely securing it against potential threats. That assumption worked to Jezeri’s advantage as she looked the fence over, seeking a spot to pull herself up and over that would minimize the chance she would attract attention. This part was a bit frustrating, actually. She had the stats to just jump over, but doing so would likely attract too much attention.


    Jezeri heard a dog bark in the distance, and she froze. All at once, the weight of the actions she was about to take pressed heavily against her. But, despite her position in the Sentinels, it was not guilt she felt — it was purpose. The star elf knew exactly why she was here, even if the idea of risking her status as a Sentinel for someone else would have seemed absurd to others.


    Because, at some point over this past week, she had come to see Klarion as someone who mattered to her. And she still wasn’t sure when that had happened.


    The dog ceased barking, and Jezeri moved swiftly, scaling the wall with practiced ease. Her fingers found purchase on the metal on the top, and within moments, she was perched atop it, surveying the grounds on the other side of the fence, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. The Copperhand residence, while quite a bit smaller than Blacksword Manor, was nonetheless lavish, with neatly trimmed hedges and a cobblestone path leading to the entrance. Lanterns glowed softly along the path, casting light across the manicured garden.


    No movement. Nothing out of place.


    She dropped near silently to the ground, landing in a crouch. Her senses sharpened, attuned to every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind. The air smelled of jasmine and damp earth. Using old skills, she moved like a shadow, skirting the edges of the garden, avoiding the pools of light cast by the lanterns.


    Reaching the side of the building, Jezeri pressed herself against the wall, her fingers tracing the edges of a narrow window. It was locked, but that was a minor inconvenience. Pulling out a slender tool that she hadn’t used in years from the pouch at her side, she deftly worked the mechanism. A soft click signaled her success. She thanked the System that skills lasted forever once learned.


    Lifting the window gently, Jezeri slipped inside, landing lightly on polished marble floors. Once she verified there was no one else in the hall, she reached back to close the window in order to cover her tracks. That done, she focused on her surroundings, trying to think through which direction she should head in. The walls, painted in gaudy shades of gold and crimson, gleamed under the soft glow of candles. Much like in Blacksword Manor that she remembered, the Copperhand residence had decorative pieces covering every available surface, but where those belonging to House Blacksword reflected the history of the entire house, the ones she was now looking at were of a singular focus.


    Marble busts of Scion Copperhand himself, detailed tapestries depicting him training for war or pursuing private studies, and even an obnoxiously large portrait of the man at the end of the hall she was walking down, his smug grin captured in painstaking detail.


    Jezeri couldn’t help it. Her lip curled in disdain under the Sentinel mask she wore. The things she saw were garish and, worse, self-indulgent. Scion Copperhand had not designed his home to welcome guests or to provide comfort but simply to trumpet his own inflated sense of importance. You’d think he was an heir of the Empire the amount of times he had thrown his face up on the walls.


    Banishing the scion’s questionable taste in decorations aside, Jezeri moved quickly but cautiously, her steps as silent as she could keep them as she navigated the halls. She softly opened each door she passed to check if it was the scion’s office. If there was evidence of his involvement in the assassination attempt on Klarion, it would be there.


    She ghosted down another hallway, pushing her skill in stealth to the limit, her sharp eyes also scanning for servants. Given how early in the year it was, and that this was only a residence of a first-year, she did not think there would be anyone else in the house at this time of night but the scion and his bodyguard, but she had been surprised before. Thankfully, she noticed no one, so she was able to make good time.


    The end of the hall opened into a lavish sitting room filled with even more gaudy decorations — velvet drapes, jeweled vases, and another portrait of Scion Copperhand, this time dressed in the armor of a Legion captain. As if he had ever seen battle. Jezeri suppressed a scoff, thinking about how the arrogant scion probably counted a military parade as combat experience.


    Turning her attention away from the painting, she spotted a door flanked by ornate columns. It had a solid, authoritative look that suggested it led to an office or study. Hopefully, this was the room she was looking for.


    She approached the door cautiously, scanning for signs of magical or mundane traps. Once again, it was not something she expected to find, but it was better to be too cautious than not cautious enough.


    Her fingers traced the edges of the doorframe, feeling for hidden runes or pressure plates. Nothing. She crouched low, checking the floor for any sign of subtle enchantments. Still nothing.


    Satisfied with her examination, the star elf gripped the handle and slowly eased the door open. It didn’t creak, which she appreciated. She slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her.


    The room was spacious but cluttered, with shelves lining the walls, crammed high with ledgers, scrolls, and books. A large desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with papers, writing implements, and even a gaudy quill set adorned with gold filigree. The sheen of it indicated either the scion cleaned it after each use or, more lightly, had it displayed as another decoration. She had guessed right. This was the scion’s office.


    Jezeri’s eyes swept the room, cataloging every detail. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the faint tang of ink. A single lantern glowed on the desk, casting shadows across the walls. The scion must have forgotten to take it with him when he had turned in for the night, as there was no area of the room for him to hide in if he were still present.


    Much like the window she had picked earlier, Jezeri hadn’t done something like this in a while, but she remembered the best approaches to finding information based on what Mistress Blacksword had taught her. As she moved swiftly over to the desk, she briefly thought how it was strange to think about her previous Mistress without any of the old emotions she had come to expect. Perhaps she had started to move on. Or perhaps she had simply moved her attention onto the current scion of House Blacksword.


    Setting her musing aside, Jezeri methodically worked her way over the scattered piles of papers and documents cluttering the desk. Scrolls, parchments, and a single ledger detailing financial dealings from before his attendance to the Imperial Academy sat in disorganized chaos on over a third of the desk itself. She skimmed over lines of text, searching for anything that could link Scion Copperhand to the assassination attempt on Klarion. It was slow, meticulous work, but Jezeri thrived on precision. Years as a Sentinel had honed her instincts, even if they hadn’t given her greater practice with the skills she had picked up while a servant of House Blacksword. Her touch was gentle, careful not to leave traces of disturbance, and she made sure to return everything to exactly where she had found it.


    No luck on the top of the desk, so she reached down and gently pulled open the first drawer. Inside was a neat stack of correspondence — letters from minor nobles seeking the favor of House Copperhand, additional mundane financial records, and a few invitations to social events when the scion left the campus for the summer break. Nothing incriminating.


    The second drawer yielded much the same.


    Jezeri’s patience remained steady. This was a game of persistence, and she was well-versed in that. Though she did wish she had some of those spells that true Imperial spies had at their beck and call. The class required to use them was rumored to be rare ranked at least, but a girl could dream.


    Sliding open the third drawer, she found another collection of letters, these ones tied together with twine. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the crest of House Brightcoin on several of them. Sliding the topmost letter free, she opened it up and scanned through its contents. The language was flowery and indirect, but the intent was clear enough to one who had been taught about such things: veiled discussions of “handling obstacles” and “ensuring favorable outcomes.” Unfortunately, while damning to her, Scion Copperhand’s correspondence with House Brightcoin wasn’t specific enough to tie him directly to the Klarion’s near-assassination.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Jezeri cursed under her breath and continued searching. Her fingers brushed against a faint ridge at the bottom of the drawer, immediately drawing her full attention. There you are.


    She pressed down firmly, and a previously hidden compartment slid open. Inside was a single parchment, the ink still fresh. Jezeri’s fingers trembled slightly


    Blood and ash, she''s a Sentinel. We shouldn''t even be doing this. You don''t mess with the Sentinels."


    arrangement will still be honored.”


    "Now then," he hissed, turning back to face her, "you''re going to tell me everything you know about Klarion Blacksword—or I''m going to enjoy breaking you piece by piece."


    Guardian Dash.