The streets of the Inner Sanctum stretched before Kael, emptied of commonfolk by curfew and privilege. Only the occasional merchant's wagon rattled past, its wooden wheels muffled by streets paved with enchanted basalt that swallowed sound. He moved like a shadow along rooftops that grew progressively grander, their tiles shifting from clay to glazed cobalt edged in real silver. Occasionally, he paused to check his map, the parchment starkly crude against this world of polished marble and perfumed air.
When the mansion finally came into view, Kael's lips curled. The Baron hadn't merely built a home - he'd erected a monument to excess. Thirty-foot walls of pure marble encircled the property, their surfaces too smooth to climb but for the decorative marble gargoyles whose outstretched wings made perfect handholds. From his vantage point, Kael could see four novice-tier guards at the main gate, their armor filigreed for show rather than function, the ceremonial halberds in their hands worth more than a district family's yearly meals.
He circled to the rear grounds where topiary griffins stood sentinel over gardens that reeked of engineered beauty - moonblooms genetically altered to glow blue, their petals arranged in perfect spirals. The grass beneath his boots was too uniformly emerald, too soft, like walking on a noblewoman's discarded furs. Ahead, a figure paced near what servants doubtlessly called the "discreet" entrance - a carved ebony door small only by the mansion's standards, its knocker shaped like a lion devouring a lamb.
As Kael approached, the butler's head snapped up. The man's livery was finer than any temple vestments, the silver buttons alone likely worth-
"Quickly! The party ends early tonight," the butler hissed, then recoiled. "By the Seven, you smell like a tannery's back alley." He produced a vial of perfume that probably cost more than Kael's entire arsenal and doused him in scented oil that reeked of vanilla.
They slipped through kitchens where copper pots hung like choir bells above a stove large enough to roast an bull. The butler shoved him into a closet lined with shelves of imported cleaning solvents, each bottle stoppered with wax stamped by foreign merchant guilds.
"You're late," the butler whispered, pressing the lion emblem into Kael's palm. The metal was warm from the man's sweating grip, its ruby eyes catching the light. "The Baron's bedroom is through the east hall. Find the book titled Mowzie's Magic Beasts on his private shelf.
Kael said nothing, pocketing the emblem with fingers that itched to drive a dagger through this fool in silk gloves. The butler led him down corridors where tapestries woven with gold thread depicted the Baron's ancestors conquering things that had likely never existed.
At the final turn, Kael's nape prickled.
"Two guards at the door," the butler breathed. "I'll draw them away. You'll have three minutes before they check the bedroom." With that, the man transformed into a perfect portrait of panic, his velvet slippers whispering false urgency as he ran.
When the guards left, Kael faced the Baron's door - a double-arched monstrosity of blackwood and gold, its surface carved with a dragon and phoenix locked in combat, their gemstone eyes following him as he pushed inside.
The bedroom was as could be expected. A chandelier of enchanted ice crystals hovered above a bed large enough for an orgy, its sheets spun from ghost-silk that shimmered like oil on water. The bookcase dominated the far wall - three stories of rare tomes accessed by a sliding ladder of whalebone and platinum.
Kael didn't have time to gawk at the solid obsidian bathtub or the portrait of the Baron painted in his own blood (because of course, it was). He went straight for the shelves, his fingers trailing over spines tooled in leather until-
There.
"Mowzie's Magic Beasts."
The book resisted slightly as he pulled, then clicked like a loaded crossbow.