Cale
I push my rage down as I moved. I needed to feed that rage somewhere towards something, but not here. Not now, but soon.
I had a oath to fulfill. Two of them actually and I would fullfil it; it was just a matter of time.
I exited the building on the north side of the property. I didn’t run or posture. I am pretty sure that alone made them nervous.
Knights spread out the moment I stepped clear of the barrier. Their formation widened on instinct, spacing adjusting without orders, weapons half-raised but never fully committed. Blades angled low. Rifles not quite shouldered. Every stance said ready, not eager.
These weren’t parade knights.
These were the kind you didn’t test unless you had no other option.
I’d seen them before, men and women, poweful Expression users with at least two cores, trained to hold ground against things that didn’t break easily. Knights who didn’t rely on intimidation or spectacle, because they’d already learned what those failed against. Their armor, a massive piece of sky steel, techinca and lord knows what else, wasn’t ornate. It was layered and reinforced backed by whole teams of Aura, Scriptura and Techinca specialist. Each knight's Aura sat close to their bodies, dense and controlled, not flaring outward. These men wasted nothing either motion or power.
Specialists hung back behind them, eyes sharp, systems humming quietly as they recalibrated on the fly. Technica frames adjusted to micro-shifts in posture. Arcanum feeds ran hot but contained, waiting for permission rather than reaching for it. They were watching me the way you watched a level 10 domain spell—carefully, respectfully, and with no illusions about what would happen if something went wrong.
They hadn’t decided what I was yet.
Whether I was a threat that had already passed…
…or one that hadn’t finished. I approved of this. I am dangerous, and an unknown. They should be cautious. That makes them smart and in most situations that uncertainty kept them alive.
Smart, well funded and powerful and it told me exactly how dangerous they were.
The Knight-Captain stepped forward.
Allen Bari a minor noble actually from Valecis Isle. I recognized him from the broadcast feeds—older than most field captains, posture rigid with discipline rather than bravado. His sword was down, not sheathed, but grounded. A deliberate choice in the face someone that is supposed to be a living emibodment of death.
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“We’re securing the site,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “I need you to stay where you are.”
I looked at him. Then at the perimeter forming behind him. Knights sealing lanes. Specialists already moving toward the north structure. Medics pushing through gaps, careful, fast.
“Secure it,” I said. “I’m not in your way.”
“That child needs to be processed,” he replied. “Statement taken. Medical verification—”
“She’s going home,” I said.
That did it.
A ripple went through the line. Subtle, but real. Someone shifted their grip. Someone else keyed a system just a little closer to active.
Bonnie's voice came across the open commucations lines. “Sir I really don't think this is a—”
“I’ll talk Captiain. You don't have to worry about me disappearing into the night. I will give you statement. You have my word and I keep my word.,” I said. “But not here. Not like this.”
I met his eyes. Let him see the fatigue and rage I hadn’t bothered to hide yet.
“She has a place she belongs,” I continued. “And someone waiting for her. That was my job. It still is.”
Bari hesitated. I could see the calculus playing out—duty versus reality, protocol versus the very obvious footage that had already gone Dominion-wide.
“You’re saying this was a contract,” he said. "You took on a army to save a single child."
“Yes,” I replied.
He blinked. “A rescue?”
“Originally,” I said. “It just turned into something bigger than anyone anticipated.”
He snorted at that which earned a few looks.
I shifted the child slightly as she stirred again, one small hand tightening reflexively in my coat.
“She didn’t sign up to be evidence,” I said refusing to be deterred. “Neither did the others.”
Bari exhaled slowly. “You’re asking me to let you walk out of an active operation.”
“I’m telling you I am walking out,” I said my voice going low as I flared my mana, “that you don’t want to try stopping me.”
Silence stretched.
Then he nodded once the motion sharp and decisive.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“Where she needs to be,” I answered. “After that, I’ll make myself available.”
“How?” he pressed.
“Through Bonnie Calder,” I said. “And through Captain Aidan Vanta.”
That name landed differently.
Bari’s jaw tightened. “You know Vanta?”
“He knows me,” I replied. “That’s enough.”
Another pause. Then, quieter, “You’re not going to disappear.”
“No,” I said. “But I won’t be staying here.”
Bari glanced at the surrounding knights, then back at me. “For the record,” he said carefully, “you’re not under arrest.”
I nodded. “Good.”
“And for the record,” he added, “if my people decide to ignore this and try to detain you anyway—”
“They won’t like what happens,” I finished for him.
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he stepped aside. The line opened andI walked through it.
No one touched me. No one followed too closely. The wind carried the distant noise of cleanup—orders concerning media and injured, with stretchers and Sanito experts arriving, there were also containment teams that instantly started proces in the area—but it all felt secondary now.
As I reached the transport perimeter, Bonnie’s voice came through, low and steady.
“Exit corridor’s clear,” she said. “Vanta’s been notified. He… sounded relieved.”
I allowed myself a breath.
“Good,” I said.
I adjusted the child one last time and kept walking. Behind me, the Knights of the Silent Decree locked the night down.
Ahead of me, a promise waited to be kept. And somewhere deeper in the Dominion, people were still arguing about what they’d just seen.
That could wait bacause I had a job to finish.
