Chapter 57: Night Stroll

The Marquess, a man whose wardrobe consisted entirely of imported silks and spun gold, had fully committed to the bit.

He was wearing a tattered, oil-stained blacksmith’s apron over a roughspun linen shirt.

His flawless, silver hair had been slicked back and tied into a messy knot, and he had used some sort of theatrical ash to darken the skin around his eyes, giving him a hollow, desperate look.

He didn’t look like a Marquess.

He looked like a man who had lost his fortune and had resorted to hammering horseshoes to pay off gambling debts.

It was a terrifyingly effective transformation.

"Incredible," Lucas muttered, genuinely impressed. "You look utterly pathetic, My Lord."

"Thank you, Sir Lucas," Julian smiled grimly. "Desperation is the mother of invention."

Finally, the door to the main suite opened, and Duke Kaelus von Nacht stepped out.

The room went dead silent again, but this time, it was not out of awe. It was out of sheer, unadulterated shock.

Kaelus had stripped away every single piece of armor, every sigil, and every silver button.

He was wearing a pair of worn, dark canvas trousers and a simple, loose-fitting, long-sleeved black tunic that was unlaced at the collar.

He had thrown a faded, charcoal-gray woolen cloak over his broad shoulders, pulling the hood up to obscure the sharp, recognizable angles of his face and the glowing violet of his eyes.

He did not look like the Reaper of the North.

He looked more like a rogue or an assassin.

He looked like the kind of man you cross the street to avoid in a dark alley, a lethal, coiled spring of muscle and dark intent, stripped of all noble refinement.

The casual, unlaced tunic revealed the scarred, muscular expanse of his chest and throat, adding an entirely different, ruggedly dangerous element to his usual intimidating presence.

Seraphina dropped her charcoal.

’Okay, wow,’ her brain short-circuited entirely. ’The dramatic handsome filter is working overtime. He looks like the brooding male lead on the cover of a forbidden romance novel! If he walks into the market looking like that, the kidnappers won’t grab me; rather, the local tavern maids will grab him!’

"Stop staring," Kaelus grunted, clearly uncomfortable without the familiar, heavy weight of his armor. He adjusted the coarse wool of his cloak, looking deeply offended by the fabric’s low thread count. "Are we adequately degraded for this mission, Marquess?"

"You look perfectly anonymous, Kaelus," Julian assured him, though even the Marquess seemed slightly taken aback by how effortlessly the Archduke pulled off the ’lethal vagabond’ look. "The perimeter is set. My guards are stationed in civilian clothing at every exit of the market square. If Lady Seraphina signals a target, we can close the net."

Kaelus looked down at Seraphina.

He reached out and wiped a smudge of charcoal from her cheek with his thumb.

"You," Kaelus said softly, his tone completely serious. "You are my daughter. Tonight, you are the daughter of a traveling sellsword. You will hold my hand and walk around. If you feel the dark magic, if you see the ’floaty people’ pointing at someone, you do not yell, do not point. You need to squeeze my hand twice. Do you understand the protocol?"

Seraphina nodded solemnly. "Squeeze twice. Got it, Papa!"

Kaelus reached into his cloak and pulled out the small, wickedly sharp dagger he had been cleaning earlier.

He didn’t put it back in its sheath.

He slid it expertly up the sleeve of his black tunic, securing it to a hidden wrist brace.

"Then let us go hunting," Kaelus murmured, the Reaper finally stepping into the shadows.

***

The Night Market of Oakhaven was a sensory explosion.

Unlike the orderly, sunlit markets of the day, the Night Market was a chaotic, winding labyrinth of tents and stalls set up in the sprawling plaza beneath the ancient, massive oak trees.

Thousands of glowing paper lanterns, enchanted with slow-burning faerie fire, hung from the branches, casting a warm, shifting, kaleidoscopic light over the massive crowds.

The air was thick with the smell of roasting meats, exotic spices, and the cloying sweetness of spun sugar.

Music drifted through the air, the thrum of lutes, the beating of hand drums, and the laughter of hundreds of people seeking entertainment after a long day of labor.

Fire-breathers shot plumes of vibrant orange flame into the night sky, illuminating the smiling faces of the crowds.

It was vibrant.

It was beautiful.

And to Seraphina’s Spirit Sight, it was a nightmare.

The moment they stepped into the crowded plaza, the volume of ambient magical and spiritual noise hit her like a physical blow.

There were hundreds of people, and every single one of them had an aura.

Some were bright, some were dim, some were tainted with petty jealousies and minor sins.

The ghosts were here, too.

Mostly harmless, lingering spirits of past merchants tethered to their old stalls, watching the living haggle with hollow, nostalgic eyes.

It was incredibly loud.

But as she reached up and slipped her small hand into the massive, calloused palm of Duke Kaelus, the noise instantly muffled.

Kaelus’s presence was a black hole for ambient noise.

His heavy, dark mana acted as a physical shield, parting the spiritual chaos around them like a ship cutting through rough waves.

Seraphina let out a small breath, leaning closer to his leg as they navigated the throng.

"Stay close," Kaelus murmured, his head on a constant swivel, his violet eyes tracking every shadow, every movement, every face that lingered too long in their direction.

Behind them, acting as their ’muscle’, were Lucas and Boris.

They lumbered through the crowd, looking incredibly intimidating in their patchwork leather and burlap.

The crowd naturally parted for them, not wanting to bump into the two massive men who looked like they broke bones for a living.

Gallahan walked slightly ahead, trying to look like a relaxed mercenary, though his face was too serious and his posture was entirely too straight for a sellsword.