Trafalgar’s hand closed around the Shadowlink Echo as it materialized in his palm, hotter than the device had any business being. A message was waiting inside.

Selara clocked the item at once. The irritation from a breath ago vanished beneath something more focused, and she drifted closer, dropping her voice as people moved past them along the street.

"Is that him?"

Trafalgar gave a small nod. "Most likely, yes."

He channeled mana into the item, and the Echo answered with a faint thrum. Caelum’s voice came through, calm as always, stripped of urgency or wasted words.

"Young master, I entered the Atrium without issue. I have been moving through the upper floors of the location and have spoken with several people connected to the event. From the outside and the public sections, there is nothing useful so far. I will continue investigating and keep you informed."

The message ended there - Caelum reporting precisely what he had found: a successful infiltration, several contacts made, and nothing yet that justified dragging Trafalgar into it. The Echo dimmed in Trafalgar’s hand, and he vented one breath and dismissed it. The item dissolved into mana particles and slipped back into his inventory.

Selara’s mouth tightened. "Upper floors."

"Only the upper floors so far. He hasn’t reached anywhere lower."

"So he hasn’t gone below."

"Not yet. He’s working his way down."

Selara clicked her tongue, frustration crawling back now that the message had failed to hand her a miracle. "I hate how reasonable that answer is. It means we keep waiting."

"It also means he got inside and is making progress," Trafalgar said. "That’s better than a locked door."

"Don’t make patience sound intelligent. I refuse to respect it."

"You respect results."

"I respect results that arrive faster."

Trafalgar buried both hands into his coat pockets and resumed walking. "He said he would keep informing us. If there’s something beneath the Atrium, he’ll find a route to it."

Selara fell in beside him, her pace a touch brisker than before. "And if the route is sealed?"

"He’ll tell us what sort of seal stands in our way."

"And if he can’t?"

"Then we stop waiting, and we find another door."

That answer satisfied her more than the previous ones had - not enough to ease her, but enough that she stopped grinding her impatience against every stone in the street.

They continued toward the lodging district. Aurevane crowded around them with its polished streets, bright banners, event stalls, and guards stationed at corners with careful spacing. Everything about the city had been arranged to reassure visitors that order existed here. Trafalgar was building a quiet suspicion that Aurevane used order the way other places used curtains - something expensive to hang over whatever they preferred guests not to see.

Selara tracked his attention toward a pair of guards checking passes near an alley mouth. "You noticed it as well?"

"The city is very proud of being watched."

"It has always been like this during large events, but this year feels heavier." Her voice dipped. "After the train attack, they have an excuse to tighten everything. Convenient timing."

"Could be a coincidence."

"It could also be a corpse wearing a hat and calling itself a guest. I’m not obligated to believe it."

Trafalgar shot her a sidelong glance. "That was vivid."

"I’m hungry. My imagery suffers when I’m hungry."

"You just ate."

By the time they arrived at the hotel, the lobby had already filled with students returning from their morning tasks. A few had carted in notes, others carried small samples, and a handful wore the sour expressions of people who had learned that academic assignments did not become more enjoyable simply because they happened in another city.

The atmosphere was better than yesterday. Not good, exactly, but less brittle. The students had been handed streets to walk, things to record, and official reasons to pretend they weren’t thinking about the attack on the train. Routine had a knack for flattering fear into behaving.

Selara snapped back into director mode the instant they crossed the threshold. Whatever frustration clung to her vanished behind a professional mask polished enough to cut paper. She swept toward the cluster of waiting staff and began demanding reports, dispensing small corrections, and reminding one unfortunate assistant that "organized" did not mean "placed in a stack and prayed over."

Trafalgar peeled off from her without making it obvious.

He found Cynthia near one of the long dining tables, her assignment paper folded beside her plate. She had already eaten part of her meal, though from the way she was tapping one finger against the edge of the table, her attention was elsewhere.

When Trafalgar approached, she moved her plate slightly to make room across from her.

"So," Cynthia said, watching him sit, "how was your very serious alchemical breakfast?"

"Complicated."

"Did it involve actual breakfast?"

"Eventually."

Her mouth curved a little. "Nice to hear. I was worried the assignment might have been too advanced."

"It nearly was."

She leaned closer, lowering her voice until it stayed between them. "How is the real thing going?"

Trafalgar picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half. Around them, students talked about stalls, exhibits, and how one assignment had apparently required counting ward markers along three different streets. None of them were paying enough attention to matter, but he kept his answer careful anyway. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"Nothing useful yet," he said. "Although technically, it’s still the first day. I knew it wouldn’t be simple."

Cynthia studied him across the table. "You sound like you’re reminding yourself."

"I am."

"Does that work?"

"Sometimes."

"And when it doesn’t?"

Trafalgar took a bite of bread and glanced toward Selara, who was now smiling at a student with the exact expression of a woman about to turn academic disappointment into a weapon.

"When it doesn’t," he said, "Selara usually makes sure nobody forgets we’re running out of patience."

Cynthia’s finger stopped tapping against the table.

"By coincidence," she said, lowering her voice a little more, "while doing the assignment Director Selara gave me, I found something interesting. Something that might interest you."

Trafalgar’s hand paused over the bread.

His attention, which had been split across the room a moment ago, narrowed entirely onto her.

"What did you find?"