Covenant (7)

Valan's room was almost dark except for the desk lamp to help him read his journal. His pocket watch showed one hour past midnight—the perfect time for what he had planned.

He stretched across the bed, still wearing his boots, taking a final look at the pages he'd filled earlier that evening. His observations about Arline's appearance, personality, arcane ability, every detail that might prove useful later. This was his way to help him remember.

The house had settled into silence. The last footsteps he'd heard had passed some time ago.

Now, he decided. It's time.

Standing up, he moved to the window while slipping the journal into his pocket. There was no balcony outside, but more importantly, his senses detected the presence of a protection ward in the window frame. The moment anyone passed through—whether entering or leaving—it would certainly trigger it.

It could be a mere detection device, or something far worse.

Either way, Valan had no intention of finding out on his first night as the Telderans' guest. Creating trouble after accepting their hospitality would be both ungrateful and counterproductive to his interest.

Besides, jumping from a second-story window risked exposure to any servants who might still be awake, with fewer places to hide once he reached the grounds.

The room’s door, however, showed no such protections—a practical choice that kept the house manageable for daily life, Valan assumed. Maintaining full perimeter wards on every possible exit would drain mana reserves quickly, even if Mr. Telderan possessed a powerful mana generator somewhere in his home.

Valan placed his hand on the door handle and paused. He needed to move silently through the house without alerting anyone.

"Enhance senses, whisper step," he breathed two spells, letting the them wrap around him.

The incantation heightened his senses while muffling all sounds he made. He tested a step forward—his boot made almost no noise against the floor. Perfect.

After pressing his ear to the door and hearing nothing, he slowly opened it and slipped into the corridor.

The hallway stretched before him in moonlit shadows, the wall lamps having been turned off for the night. Pale light went through tall windows onto the carpet. Family portraits lined the walls—likely past Telderan family members—became silent witnesses as Valan made his move.

Moving forward, he assessed the space around him. The corridor was longer than he'd initially estimated—perhaps ten meters to the main staircase, with several doors branching off on both sides. Servants' quarters, guest rooms, perhaps a study or library.

What continued to puzzle him was the absence of arcanist guards. Most families with money would hire at least a few trained arcanists for protection against criminals, especially if they were capable of using arcane as well..

Yet he'd sensed no such presence since his arrival. He assumed the family relied entirely on their ward system.

Mrs. Telderan might be more formidable than she appears, he mused, remembering her words at dinner.

As he reached the intersection, the main corridor met a smaller hallway leading to the family's private wing. His enhanced senses detected something he'd missed earlier: a faint presence of mana was embedded throughout the building's very structure—far more sophisticated than the protective wards he had found so far.

Interesting, he thought.

Valan descended the main staircase. The ground floor opened into another hallway with multiple passages: kitchen and servants' areas to the left, formal rooms straight ahead, and what he remembered as Mr. Telderan's study to the right.

This house was large enough to get lost in without knowing the layout, though Valan had navigated stranger places during his travels. He chose the passage toward the formal rooms, reasoning that it would lead to the main entrance—and his next challenge.

The heavy front door loomed ahead, and as expected, multiple layers of protection surrounded it. Ward patterns designed to alert the entire household of any unauthorized passage. Valan knelt beside the door frame, studying the magical structure.

He let out a sigh, finding himself with no other choice.

"Uncover the veil," he murmured. "Synchronize."

The spell matched his mana signature with the ward's frequency, creating a brief window of ten seconds where the protection would deactivate before reverting back to full alert.

Valan slipped through smoothly, though he knew this would leave traces that could be noticed. He could only hope the Telderans weren't quite that diligent or meticulous in their routine security checks.

The night air hit his face as he stepped onto the grounds. Moving from cover to cover between trees and shrubs—just for extra care—he made his way toward the estate’s gates.

The iron gates stood nearly six meters high. As Valan had noticed since his arrival, the protective wards here covered not just the gate itself but extended into the air above it—an invisible barrier that would trap most intruders attempting to climb or jump over.

Kneeling beside the gate's stone pillar, he repeated his earlier incantation. "Uncover the veil. Synchronize."

Valan just channeled the mana towards the air around him. He leaped high as if the wind carried his boy, clearing the gate's height before landing on the sidewalk. The street before him stretched empty in both directions, lined with lamps that cast yellow light at regular intervals.

"Whisper step, release."

The spell's effects faded, returning his senses and his footsteps' sound.

After a bit of thought, he touched his glasses with one finger.

"Form switch."

The lenses began to glow that pulsed once it expanded across his face into a plain white mask that covered everything except his eyes.

His entire appearance transformed in the space of a heartbeat. His head wore a top hat now, while his modest clothes shifted into a black frock coat that fell to his knees. Leather gloves covered his hands, one of which now gripped a walking cane that hadn't been there moments before.

In an instant, he'd become exactly what he appeared to be: a well-dressed gentleman who might frequent Glendione's theaters or social clubs during the evening hours.

Valan tested his voice next.

"Good evening," he said, letting the words in a completely different cadence. His tone shifted into something warmer—a skill he'd mastered years ago under Master's training.

He cleared his throat and tried again, this time adopting a more clipped pronunciation. "Quite a calm evening we're having tonight."

Valan couldn't decide what to pick, so he saved the thoughts for later. He then set off down the hill, holding his walking cane off the ground.

"Swift step," Valan whispered.

The spell enhanced his stride, allowing him to cover ground at nearly twice his normal pace without appearing to run.

He reached the commercial district within minutes, where shop signs creaked in the breeze and darkened windows displayed goods for tomorrow's customers. Taverns spilled warm light and conversation onto the sidewalks.

A few pedestrians wandered the streets—workers heading home from late evening shifts, couples strolling arm in arm. Everyone was just minding their own business.

Then, there were two townguards making their rounds. One carried a rifle across his shoulder. The other kept his hand resting near the sabre hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, Valan released his spell and slowed his pace as he approached them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, adopting the warmer tone he'd practiced. "I trust the evening has been peaceful for you both?"

The two townguards turned toward him, their expressions shifting to amusement—borderline ridiculing.

The taller one, sporting a graying mustache, looked Valan up and down with skepticism.

"Well, well," the guard with the sabre said, nudging his partner. "Look what we have here, Barcus. A proper dandy out for a late-night stroll."

"Seems so, Maden." His companion, a younger man with a crooked nose, snorted. "What's with that mask, though? Bit late for the theater district, isn't it? Or did you lose your way back from some fancy party?"

Valan tilted his head slightly.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice carrying concern. "But is it quite proper for two patrolling townguards to be intoxicated during their duties?"

The younger guard's—Barcus—smirk faltered. His hand moved instinctively toward his rifle. "What did you just say to us?"

"I merely observed that your breath carries the smell of ale," Valan continued, maintaining his pleasant tone. "And your friend there seems to be swaying slightly."

The older guard with the mustache straightened, his eyes narrowing behind the yellow lamplight.

"Listen here, you masked freak—"

"Don't worry," Valan said, raising a hand. "I have no intention of reporting anything to your superiors. I simply need directions to Weldphal Academy, and I thought you gentlemen could assist me."

"Weldphal? That's clear across the city—in the northern district!" Maden's posture relaxed slightly, though suspicion remained in his eyes. "What business does someone like you have there at this hour?"

"More importantly," Barcus added, "that's not even our jurisdiction. We patrol the commercial ward. You want the northern district guys for anything up there."

Despite their condition, both of them were still able to comprehend Valan's questions. He thought about making them more useful for him before reaching into his coat pocket. His fingers found two gold coins.

"Perhaps you could make an exception," he said, letting the coins glint. "One for each, if you give me a tour—and a bit of a companion."

The two guards exchanged glances. Barcus's eyes fixed on the coins, while his older companion scratched his mustache thoughtfully.

"Well now," Maden said, his previous hostility gone. "When you put it that way, sir, I suppose we could make a small detour. After all, helping citizens is part of our duty."

"Absolutely," Barcus nodded enthusiastically, nearly dropping his rifle in the process. "Can't have a fine gentleman like yourself wandering around lost. These streets can be dangerous at night."

"Most generous of you both," Valan said. "I take it you know the quickest route?"

"Oh yes, sir," Maden said, pocketing his coin. "Know every street, every alley, every shortcut from here to the docks."

Barcus straightened his uniform jacket. "We'll have you there in no time, sir. Just follow our lead."