NOVPUB"Litty," Yue commanded without taking her eyes off David, "pack the essential components from cabinets three and seven." Her tone brooked no argument as she added, "We're relocating immediately."
Litty's expression suggested this was hardly the first time her mother's scientific enthusiasm had overridden all other considerations. With practiced resignation, she began gathering the specified equipment, handling delicate instruments with the care of someone who had repaired them after previous "incidents" all too often. Her half-elven heritage was subtly evident in her slightly pointed ears and the unusual grace with which she moved a stark reminder of the rarity of humans and elves forming relationships close enough to produce offspring.
"I should note," David added as Litty worked, "that the manor's training facilities would also provide excellent opportunity to continue assessing my combat capabilities." He gestured toward the twin blades sheathed at her back. "The courtyard was specifically designed for blade work, with reinforced targeting dummies and specialized practice areas."
Litty paused in her packing, undeniable interest flickering across her features. Like many dedicated martial practitioners, the promise of proper training facilities held particular appeal. "Reinforced with what, exactly?"
"Ironwood frame with dragonhide covering," David replied, "enchanted to provide variable resistance based on the practitioner's force application. They register strike patterns and provide tactical feedback after each session."
"Acceptable," Litty decided, resuming her equipment gathering with noticeably increased enthusiasm.
With Yue and Litty's participation secured, David returned his attention to his improvised map, mentally calculating travel routes and timing. The glass shards caught the light, transforming the crude representation into something almost beautiful—broken pieces arranged to form a coherent whole, much like the fragmented resources he was now consolidating.
"There's one more thing," he noted, addressing the room at large though his gaze remained fixed on the makeshift map. "The injured elf's presence must remain absolutely confidential. The political implications could complicate an already volatile situation."
"She remains under my protection," Elara stated firmly. "That hasn't changed since you convinced us to shelter her."
David nodded, acknowledging her commitment without revealing his private knowledge of exactly who they were protecting. The injured elf represented yet another complex thread in the increasingly intricate tapestry of their shared mission one that bound them together despite occasional disagreements about methods and approaches.
As preparations for departure continued around him, David felt a familiar ripple of awareness at the edge of his consciousness—the distinctive sensation of Luna approaching. Unlike her usual physical manifestation, however, her presence coalesced from the shadows themselves, fragmenting and reforming like liquid darkness until she stood beside him in near-corporeal form.
"I'm done," she reported, her voice carrying harmonic undertones that seemed to bypass normal hearing. "Assets are being positioned as instructed."
"And the Castle surveillance?" David inquired.
"Angelica maintains her position," Luna confirmed. "Initial reports suggest unusual activity within the Council Chamber. The Duke has summoned multiple military commanders for a closed session."
This information added another piece to the complex puzzle. Military commanders meant potential troop movements perhaps the rumored forces preparing to move against Lysora County.
"Good job," David acknowledged with a nod of satisfaction.
Luna inclined her head in acknowledgment before her form began to dissolve once more, darkness flowing like water toward David's feet. Rather than departing entirely, however, the shadows merged with his own, creating a deeper darkness that moved in perfect synchronization with his movements present but invisible to casual observation.
From across the laboratory, Vespera watched this process with evident understanding. Without a word, her ethereal form similarly diffused, mist-like tendrils dispersing before reforming as part of David's elongated shadow. The process happened so subtly that only those specifically watching for it would have noticed anything unusual.
"A useful talent," Elara observed quietly, her keen eyes having missed nothing of this transformation.
"One of many," David acknowledged simply.
With Luna and Vespera now effectively invisible merged with his shadow in a state that allowed them to travel with him while remaining concealed David turned his attention to final preparations. The twelve-hour countdown continued its relentless progression, each passing minute bringing them closer to whatever confrontation awaited.
"We should depart separately," he suggested to Elara, "following different routes to avoid establishing obvious connections. Seraphina will ensure the manor is prepared by the time we arrive."
Elara nodded her agreement, her earlier resistance to his leadership apparently set aside in favor of practical cooperation. "I'll make preparations at the inn tonight and have the elf ready for transport tomorrow. We'll await your carriage's arrival."
As she moved toward the doorway, David added, "When you reach the manor, we'll need to discuss accessing the Whispering Creed as well."
The reference to the elusive information network caused Elara to pause momentarily, glancing back with sharpened attention. "You have contacts within the Creed?" The surprise in her voice was evident the Creed was known to few, an exclusive network of information brokers whose reach extended into places even imperial spies couldn't access.
"I've been cultivating certain relationships," David replied, his tone measured. "My shadows have located someone who might provide us an introduction to one of their masters. The Creed likely has information about Count Nicalo's activities that we can't obtain through conventional means, perhaps even leads on the assassins and the Eye of Ternion."
"The Whispering Creed doesn't grant access easily," Elara noted, her expression skeptical. "Their services come at extraordinary prices, and not always measured in gold."
"Some prices are worth paying for the right information," David responded. "My own network is still developing they maintain safe positions outside the castle walls, bribing servants for internal intelligence. Useful, but limited. The Creed could provide us with deeper insights and connections we currently lack."
Elara studied him for a moment longer before nodding once more. "Twelve hours," she reminded him, the deadline hanging between them like a blade suspended by increasingly fragile thread.
"Counting every second," David assured her as she departed.
Left with Yue and Litty, who continued their efficient packing of essential equipment, David allowed himself a rare moment of stillness. The weight of what lay ahead rescuing Salomonis, protecting Lysora, unraveling the conspiracy surrounding Count Nicalo pressed against him with almost physical force.
Yet beneath the immediate problems, a deeper current of concern flowed through his thoughts. The parallels to the events depicted in "Crimson Tides" troubled him more than he had revealed to the others. In the novel, Elara had died, creating the power vacuum that allowed demonic forces to take control of Lysora County.
David had intervened, saving her life, yet fate seemed determined to follow its course through different means. Now, instead of death removing her from Lysora, political machinations were achieving the same result, her absence from her territory.
"Interesting," Yue's voice interrupted his contemplation, her ancient eyes studying him with unnerving perception. "You're genuinely concerned, aren't you? Not just about Salomonis or even Lysora County."
David met her gaze directly. "The pieces on the board suggest patterns beyond what's immediately visible," he acknowledged, neither confirming nor denying her observation.
Yue's childlike features arranged themselves into an expression of scholarly assessment. "Patterns indeed," she murmured. "I look forward to seeing this exceptional greenhouse of yours and learning exactly what game you're really playing, David De Gror."
The use of his full name carried subtle emphasis, a reminder that despite his careful compartmentalization, others could still connect the diverse elements of his identity. The shadow maidens, the manor, the commercial enterprises, the political maneuvering, all fragments of a larger whole that Yue's perceptive mind was already beginning to assemble.
"We all play the games our positions require," David replied with diplomatic neutrality. "The next move, however, takes place at the manor. Shall we proceed?"
As they prepared to depart, following carefully separate routes toward the same destination, the clock continued its countdown toward the twelve-hour deadline, and whatever awaited them when time expired.
