Chapter 54: A Walking Lie...
Keiser stopped just short of the bars.
The others... Lenko, Tyron, Jim, and Jill... trailed close behind but couldn’t quite bring themselves to step as near.
Their eyes kept flicking to the stairwell, every creak of torch-iron or drip of water making their shoulders stiffen. Even free, they looked like prisoners awaiting for the next trial.
But Keiser didn’t glance back.
He stood only a breath away from the hand jutting lazily between the bars, the cold weight of the iron key dangling from his own fingers. The man inside watched its sway with a predator’s patience.
At last, the broker raised his head, catching the light. Recognition sparked in his expression... his brows lifting, then lowering into a narrow-eyed amusement that glimmered despite the shadows.
"Well, well," he drawled, voice low and edged with mockery. "Seems one of the King’s wayward children has managed to land himself in a pinch."
Behind Keiser, Lenko stiffened. Tyron blinked in confusion, as though the words hadn’t made sense. Jim and Jill exchanged a glance, whispering something sharp under their breath.
Keiser only raised his chin, letting the words fall between them like so much dust. Of course this man knew. Even if Muzio had hidden himself away for years, he was still the King’s son.
A royal could cover his face, bury his name, but he couldn’t erase the blood in his veins. And this one... this slippery bastard... was too clever not to see it.
The broker’s gaze flicked back to the key, hand extending just a little farther, waiting for it. Yet Keiser didn’t yield. He let the iron dangle just out of reach, a silent refusal.
The man stilled, amusement never fading, though his smirk thinned into something more curious. His hand hung in the air, but it no longer strained for the key.
Instead, his pupils shifted
... sliding down, fixing squarely on Keiser’s right eye beneath the hood.Keiser exhaled through his nose, a sharp huff. "You don’t even need this."
For a heartbeat, silence once again hung in the dungeon.
The man behind the bars stared at him, eyes unreadable. Then his lips twisted... and the laugh burst out. Not a chuckle, not a snicker, but a full-bodied cackle that rolled through the stone chamber.
He doubled over, clutching his stomach, the sound bouncing off the damp walls. When he straightened again, he dragged a finger beneath his eye, wiping at the moisture that laughter had drawn.
"Oh, that’s a good one, Valemont." His voice dripped with amusement, the name cutting through the cell like a blade.
Before anyone could breathe, his whole frame surged forward. Iron clanged as his weight slammed into the bars. His arm snapped out like a whip, hand slicing the air so close it might’ve snagged Keiser’s cloak.
"Hey...!" Lenko’s sharp gasp broke the air as he yanked Keiser back, one hand clamped hard on his shoulder.
Tyron flinched violently, clutching the vial at his chest. Even Jim and Jill stumbled back in fear, the old men’s eyes wide as the iron rattled from the force of the impact. The sound of metal against stone rang down the corridor like an alarm.
The broker only smirked wider, teeth flashing white in the gloom.
His arm lingered between the bars for a moment longer... taunting, daring... before he let it slide back in with lazy ease, as though he’d never struck at all.
"Child, you don’t know who you’re playing with..." the man hissed, voice low and serpentine, each word slithering between the bars.
Keiser only smirked, the expression thin and sharp as a knife. ’Ah... as he thought.’
’No wonder this bastard was so slippery.’
His mind flickered back to the countless times he had chased this shadow through the capital... always one step behind, always arriving too late.
When Keiser finally managed to corner him once, he hadn’t looked like this at all.
No man bun, no scruffy brown hair, no weathered face with its sly grin and heavy gray bags beneath his eyes. Back then, he’d worn the shape of someone else entirely.
And the time before that? Different again.
This wasn’t just a clever disguise or a rogue’s trick.
Keiser’s gut told him the truth... the same gut that had kept him alive through court, campaign, and the Gambit itself.
Not merely a mage.
The figure beyond the bars tilted his head, shadow cutting sharper across his face. And for just a fraction of a heartbeat, the torchlight bent strangely against his features, as if it couldn’t quite decide what shape it should cling to.
Not human...
That explained everything. The endless disguises. The vanishing trails. Why every rumor about him contradicted the last.
This one wasn’t just a broker of secrets... he was the secret, a walking lie bound together by old magic.
No wonder Keiser had never been able to hold him for long.
"I know..."
Keiser couldn’t help but notice how the man’s eyes shifted... green dissolving into something sharper, as though something buried was clawing its way to the surface.
His decision was made in a snap.
With a swift motion, he drove the jagged end of the key into the flesh of his bandaged palm, pressing it hard against the man’s arm he had seized.
The reaction was instant. Blood welled hot and fast, spilling across their joined skin.
Where the blood touched his skin, it burned, searing deep as lines crawled outward, etching themselves into the man’s arm, glowing faint and cruel as they formed the shape of runes.
Gasps echoed through the corridor.
Tyron and the old men stumbled back in horror.
Lenko hissed sharply, his hand tightening on Keiser’s shoulder. "Muzio, what are you---!"
The broker barely flinched. A low, amused sound slipped past his lips. "...oh?"
And then the change began.
His brown scruffy man-bun unraveled, hair tumbling down instead in a dark green cascade that shimmered faintly under the torchlight.
Ears stretched and sharpened into fine points. His face smoothed, jaw narrowing, cheekbones rising.
The years melted off him... or her, leaving something both youthful and inhuman.
His eyes... no longer dull green, but a piercing, luminous color... locked on Keiser with delighted malice.
Before their very eyes, the weary broker was gone.
In his place stood a tall, elegant figure, too sharp and otherworldly to ever be mistaken for human.
An elven.