Ace_the_owl
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Chapter 192. Shadow
🕑 Added 2025-12-07 04:28:02 +0000 UTCHey everyone,
Sorry about the absence lately. I finally had to get that surgery I'd been avoiding for way too long.
So apparently the RSI had built up enough pressure in both my arms that my doctor basically gave me an ultimatum: either I get it taken care of now, or I'd be looking at permanent nerve damage down the line. Fun times, right?
I learned a lot of medical terms, too. The procedure itself is called a carpal tunnel release, or more specifically in my case, a bilateral carpal tunnel decompression since they had to do both arms. While it sounds pretty fearsome (at least it did to me, especially since I already had surgery earlier this year for my leg, yeah, it's been a tough year), it's actually not that complex as far as surgeries go.
Basically, what happens is there's this ligament in your wrist called the transverse carpal ligament, and it forms the roof of the carpal tunnel where your median nerve passes through along with a bunch of tendons. When you've got chronic RSI like I do from typing for hours every day, inflammation builds up in there and the whole space gets compressed. That puts pressure on the median nerve, which is what causes all the numbness, tingling, and pain that shoots up your arm and makes it feel like your hand is constantly asleep.
The surgery involves making a small incision in the palm and cutting through that ligament to release the pressure. Once it's cut, the ligament eventually heals back, but it heals longer than it was before, which gives the nerve and tendons more room and stops the compression. The whole thing takes maybe fifteen minutes per arm, though they did mine on separate days to make recovery easier.
Recovery's been slow but steady. I've been doing a lot of dictation software work and only using my arms when I absolutely have to, which has been an adjustment. But honestly, my brother has been doing the colossal work of helping me write the chapters during this whole recovery period. He was even willing to make many, many drafts of the same chapters until he got my style and tone right, going back and revising scenes over and over until they felt like something I would have written myself. I'm really grateful for that. I couldn't have kept the story going without him.
But the good news is that I'm doing much better now. The doctor said everything looks good and that it should be okay from now on as long as I'm more careful about not overdoing it.
Anyway, I'm back now and working on getting chapters out at a more regular pace. Thanks for your patience, and thanks for sticking with the story.
More coming soon.
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Well, this was... awkward.
The Chancellor clasped hands with Gaius one final time, still beaming like they'd just concluded the most pleasant afternoon tea instead of what had actually happened. He moved to Merlin next, gripping his shoulder with that easy familiarity that somehow felt both genuine and calculated at the same time.
"Always a pleasure," Mephtilem said.
Merlin nodded. "Lord Chancellor."
Then came Beth's turn.
The Chancellor extended his hand toward her, and Adom watched with a kind of detached fascination as Beth just stood there with her arms crossed, staring at him with the kind of flat expression that would make most people wither on the spot.
She didn't take his hand.
Mephtilem laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that sounded genuinely amused rather than forced, like her refusal was somehow endearing rather than the insult it clearly was.
"Still the same, I see," he said, dropping his hand without any visible offense. "I've known Beth for fifteen years now, and I don't think she's smiled at me once. Not even once."
"Sixteen years," Beth corrected, her tone flat enough to freeze water.
"Sixteen, then." The Chancellor's smile didn't even flicker. "My mistake."
He turned to Magnus, who was waiting by the door with that same satisfied expression he'd been wearing since Peregrine was introduced, and the two of them exchanged a few words that Adom couldn't quite make out from where he stood.
Being the empire's best diviner gave Beth certain privileges that others didn't get, a kind of leeway that came with being irreplaceable. She could be hostile to the Chancellor himself and it would be overlooked, excused as eccentricity or the burden of her gift. Prophets and seers had always occupied strange positions in hierarchies—too valuable to punish for their rudeness, too unsettling to fully embrace as allies.
And Beth leaned into that permission hard, in a way that Adom respected about her.
The Chancellor paused at the doorway and glanced back one more time, his gaze sweeping across all of them—Gaius, Merlin, Beth, Adom, Eren—before settling on Adom for just a beat longer than it had rested on the others.
Then he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that made you want to trust him even when every instinct screamed not to.
"Take care, Magus Sylla. I look forward to hearing of your continued successes."
"Thank you, Lord Chancellor."
And then he was gone, with Magnus following behind him, the general's boots clicking against stone in that precise military rhythm. The door closed behind them with a heavy, final sound that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. Adom moved to the window because he needed something to do with his hands, something to focus on that wasn't the weight of what had just happened.
He watched them cross the courtyard below, watched the pegasus cart descend from wherever it had been waiting—massive white wings cutting through the air with surprising grace for creatures that size, hooves touching down on cobblestone with a delicacy that seemed almost impossible. The Chancellor climbed in first, still talking to Magnus about something and smiling like nothing in the world could disturb his good mood. Magnus said something in response, gesturing with one hand, and the Chancellor laughed.
The cart lifted off moments later, the pegasi's wings beating in perfect synchronization as they climbed. Up and up, higher and higher, banking east where the sunlight caught their white coats and made them look almost ethereal. Within moments they were just a speck against the sky, and then they were gone entirely.
Adom exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as much as he dared with Peregrine standing somewhere behind him.
Tomorrow night, there would be the meeting with the Silvandrosi Queen and the timing couldn't be worse. It was an important meeting, critical, even, the kind that could tilt the scales significantly when they finally made their move for the throne. Having the Elven kingdom's support would lend Morgana legitimacy in ways that gold and promises never could, and would tie her to one of the oldest and most respected sovereign powers in the world.
They couldn't afford to botch it, and now he had to figure out how to attend a secret meeting with the elven queen while being shadowed by an imperial operative whose entire job was to watch his every move.
He glanced to his right without fully turning his head.
Peregrine Hook stood a few paces behind him and slightly to the side, positioned in that way professional guards always seemed to position themselves—not hovering, exactly, but present. And aware. Her posture was relaxed but ready, weight distributed evenly, hands loose at her sides like she could move in any direction at a moment's notice.
She met his gaze without flinching when he looked at her, her expression neutral and completely unreadable.
He looked away first, which annoyed him more than it should have.
There were two other Shadows in the room now, and Adom realized they must have entered while he'd been distracted by the Chancellor's departure. Both men, both carrying themselves with that same professional stillness. One was positioned near Beth, the other near Merlin, and they managed to be simultaneously invisible and impossible to ignore.
Adom's mind started cycling through options almost automatically, the way it always did when he was backed into a corner.
Magical means, obviously. A well-placed illusion could make her think he was somewhere he wasn't, or he could try memory alteration if he could get close enough and she dropped her guard long enough for him to work. A bounded field that scrambled perception might work, or there were those spells that created false sensory input, made you see and hear things that weren't really there. There were dozens of approaches that could, theoretically, let him slip her observation long enough to do what he needed to do.
But she'd be trained for that, wouldn't she?
Had to be. The Shadows didn't guard the imperial family and the Chancellor by accident, they were the best, which meant they'd have countermeasures. Enchanted items that detected magical interference, maybe. Mental discipline techniques to resist illusions. Protocols for recognizing when magic was being used against them, alarms they could trigger if they suspected anything.
And even if he managed it once, even if he pulled it off perfectly, it would raise flags. She'd report it in her next debrief. They'd adjust their approach, send someone better, or send two people, or implement some new policy that made things even harder to work around.
How did the reporting even work, anyway?
Did she file daily summaries with her superiors? Hourly updates? Was there some kind of magical relay she could activate in emergencies, or did she just memorize everything and debrief in person at scheduled intervals? He needed to know the structure of it, the timing, where the vulnerabilities were in their system.
He needed—
"I'm quite tired now."
Gaius's voice cut through Adom's thoughts, and he turned to see the Archmage straightening from where he'd been leaning against his desk. He stretched in a way that looked almost theatrical, like he was performing the concept of exhaustion rather than actually experiencing it.
"The meeting's no longer happening," Gaius continued. "We'll schedule it for tomorrow. For now, you're all dismissed."
Merlin nodded once and turned toward the door without a word. His Shadow followed behind him like a second, quieter version of himself, matching his pace exactly.
Beth lingered a moment longer with her eyes still on the window, her expression unreadable, before she finally moved as well. Her Shadow trailed behind her with that same professional distance they all seemed to maintain.
"Eren," Gaius said, and his tone shifted slightly, became a touch warmer. "Come with me."
Eren, who'd been standing near the back of the room trying very hard to be invisible this whole time, straightened immediately like he'd been waiting for permission to exist again. "Yes, master."
Gaius's gaze shifted to Adom then, just for a second, and it was one of those looks that said absolutely nothing and everything at once.
Later, that look said. We'll talk later, when we don't have an audience.
Adom gave the smallest nod in response, barely a movement at all.
Gaius's expression didn't change, but he turned and walked toward the side door, the one that led deeper into his personal chambers rather than out to the main corridor. Eren followed, glancing back once at Adom with an expression that might have been concern or confusion or both before disappearing through the doorway behind the Archmage.
The room emptied out in less than a minute, and then it was just Adom standing by the window with Peregrine Hook somewhere behind him.
She still hadn't moved from her position, still standing there in that professional guard stance, still watching him with that neutral expression that gave away absolutely nothing.
Adom turned back to the window and stared out at the empty sky where the pegasus cart had disappeared, trying to figure out his next move.
He took a deep breath then turned back toward Peregrine.
She stood exactly where she'd been when the others left; a few paces behind him, hands clasped at the small of her back, posture perfect. Watching.
"Well," he said. "This is a little awkward silence, right?"
"I was not bothered by it, my lord." Her tone was even and professional. "Please be at ease around me."
Adom stared at her. The formality was like armor. Every word measured, every syllable in its place.
"Do you always speak like—" He caught himself. "I mean, it's not a bad thing. I'm just curious."
"I was trained for years to communicate efficiently," Peregrine said. She didn't blink. "This manner of speech serves that purpose."
A pause.
"Would you prefer I have more personality, my lord?"
Adom felt his eyebrows climb. "You can do that on command?"
"My task is to ensure your safety and comfort. If adjusting my demeanor would contribute to either, I am capable of doing so."
He tried a smile. Tried to find some crack in that professional veneer. "So what you're saying is, you're so good at your job that you can pretend to be bad at it if it makes me feel better?"
"If that is how you would like to interpret it, my lord."
The smile didn't work. She just looked at him with those steady eyes, waiting for his next move like she was calculating three steps ahead.
Adom gave up. "Well. I'm hungry. Are you hungry?"
"I have well-defined eating hours, my lord."
"What are those?"
"Fourteen hundred hours for seven minutes. Nineteen hundred hours for four minutes."
Adom understood the format, his father still used military time out of habit from his knight days. Two in the afternoon, seven at night. The Imperial military counted hours from midnight in a full cycle to avoid confusion during night operations or shift changes.
But the windows themselves..."Wait. What do you eat that takes four minutes?"
Peregrine reached into her coat. Drew out a small wrapped package and held it up. It looked like... bread?
Yes. That's what it was. The bread inside was flat, gray-brown, about the size of her palm. Adom recognized it then: waybread, the old military ration from the Great Famine two centuries back. Alchemically preserved grain compressed with enough nutrients to sustain a soldier for a day. The Imperial Army had refined the recipe over generations, and it had saved thousands of lives during sieges and hard times.
It was also, by every account Adom had ever read, absolutely vile.
"You can't possibly tell me that's all you eat."
"I drink water as well, my lord."
"Peregrine, that's—" He stopped. Looked at her standing there with her terrible ration bar, her four-minute meal window, her entire life compressed into efficient blocks of time.
He gave up.
"Come with me. We're eating real food."
"That is not necessary, my lord. I am adequately—"
"It would make me feel very safe," Adom said, "if you would do that. As my protector, you need to be well-fed and satisfied with your food so that you're able to protect me properly. Right?"
The logic was garbage and they both knew it. But Peregrine's training wouldn't let her argue with his stated preference for his own safety, even if the reasoning was flawed.
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "As you wish, my lord."
"Great!" Adom felt something almost like victory. "You like meat pies?"
*****
They walked through the district until the scent of baked pastry and roasted meat grew thick in the air. Old Mary's sat on a corner, its weathered sign creaking in the evening breeze. This location was smaller than the one near the market, just a window counter and a handful of wooden tables set up outside.
The vendor was a young man, maybe a few years older than Adom, with flour dusted across his apron and forearms. He looked up as they approached, and his face split into a grin.
"Ghost! Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy," Adom said. "Three meat pies, please."
The vendor's eyes flicked to Peregrine, and the grin faltered for just a second. Then came back stronger. "Of course. And for the lady?"
Adom glanced at her.
"I do not mind anything served to me," Peregrine said.
The vendor straightened a little. Cleared his throat. "Well, our star flavors tonight are duck with cranberry glaze, seasoned beef with root vegetables, and krawler; that's dungeon meat. Texture's a bit dense, chewier than regular meat, but it's got this gamey taste to it. Bit like lamb, if lamb had a wild edge to it. Popular with the adventurer types."
Peregrine gave no reaction.
Adom watched her for a moment, thought he caught the slightest shift in her posture when the vendor mentioned the krawler. "One of each, then."
"Three pies." The vendor was already moving, pulling the golden-crusted pies from the heated shelf behind him, wrapping them in parchment. He worked fast, but his gaze kept drifting back to Peregrine. "You, uh... you new to Arkhos?"
"Yes," Peregrine said.
"Thought so. Would've remembered seeing you."
She said nothing to that.
The vendor set the three pies on the counter, then hesitated. Reached back and grabbed a fourth, wrapped it quickly, and added it to the pile.
Adom stared at it. "What's that?"
"Duck's on the house tonight."
"I always pay here," Adom said. This location was the only one of Old Mary's places where they actually let him. Everywhere else, the Ghost didn't pay, Old Mary's standing order. But this vendor had always accepted his coin, which was exactly why Adom kept coming back to this particular spot.
"Old Mary says the ghost doesn't pay." The vendor grinned, but his eyes were still on Peregrine. "Boss's rules."
Adom looked at the fourth pie. Then at the vendor's face. Then at Peregrine, who stood there like a statue.
Right. The duck wasn't about Old Mary's policy.
"Appreciate it," Adom said, gathering up the pies.
"Come back anytime," the vendor said, still looking at Peregrine.
She didn't seem to notice. Or care.
Adom led them to one of the wooden tables and set the pies down. Peregrine remained standing.
"Please sit," Adom said.
She sat.
He unwrapped the krawler pie—the one he'd thought he'd seen her react to—and slid it toward her. Kept the beef for himself, left the duck and the extra for later.
"Eat."
Peregrine looked at the pie. Then at him.
"That's not a request for your safety," Adom said. "I'm just asking you to eat. Try it. The first bite."
She picked up the pie carefully, like it was a piece of equipment she was evaluating. Took a bite.
Adom watched.
She chewed. Swallowed. Her expression didn't change at all. No surprise, no pleasure, no disgust. Just the same measured calm.
"It is good," she said. "Thank you for the food, my lord."
"Don't mention it."
She took another bite. Still no reaction. Like she was consuming water, not food.
Adom bit into his own pie and tried not to feel disappointed that he couldn't tell if she actually liked it or not.
The silence stretched between them.
Adom was gauging her. He knew what Shadows were, everyone in the capital did, at least in theory. The Emperor's personal operatives, trained young in facilities no one talked about. They underwent conditioning that would break most people. Physical training that turned them into weapons. Mental conditioning that made them unshakeable, unreadable, utterly loyal.
And they were all mages. Every single one had a mana core and could weave spells. That was the difference between Shadows and regular soldiers or even Imperial Knights. They were the only mages in the entire Empire who answered solely to the Emperor and his inner circle, completely outside the Magisterium's authority.
The Magisterium had the Magi, the Archmage, all the infrastructure of magical education and regulation. But the Shadows? They belonged to the throne alone.
Which made Peregrine's assignment to him even more of a problem.
Adom needed to set up his meeting for tomorrow. The one with the queen. The plan had been simple before: slip out, meet in secret, negotiate an alliance. But now he had a Shadow watching his every move.
He couldn't dismiss her without a valid excuse. She'd been assigned by the Chancellor himself, and refusing her protection would be seen as either foolish or suspicious.
He couldn't subdue her either. That would be an attack on an Imperial Shadow, and it would give the Chancellor exactly the excuse he needed to move against Adom openly.
What to do... what to do indeed.
Adom took another bite of his pie. The beef was good, seasoned well, the pastry flaky. He chewed slowly, thinking.
Peregrine finished her krawler pie and set the parchment aside, her hands returning to rest on the table in perfect symmetry.
Across the street, a group of children ran past, shrieking with laughter and playing what appeared to be a game of tag. One boy tagged a girl and immediately sprinted away, her indignant yell following him as she gave chase.
An idea sparked in Adom's mind, one that involved a changeling.
If he could get one of them to impersonate him, just for the duration of the meeting... The changeling could stay with Peregrine while the real Adom slipped away. By the time she realized—if she even did—it would be over.
He'd need to contact Valiant first. Set it up properly. But it could work.
Adom finished his pie and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Aah. I'm full."
Peregrine looked at him.
"Did you eat well?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord. Thank you. It was good."
"Better than waybread, I hope."
"Yes, my lord."
Adom smiled. "You know, I always feel a bit giddy after a good meal. Energized. Like I could run across the whole city." He stretched his arms above his head. "What about you? Do you feel different after eating real food?"
"I feel adequately nourished, my lord."
"Right. Of course." He dropped his arms. "Speaking of running... you're pretty fast, aren't you? Shadows are supposed to be incredibly quick."
"We undergo extensive physical conditioning, my lord. Speed and endurance are foundational."
"How fast are we talking? Like, faster than a horse?"
"Over short distances, yes, my lord."
"And strong too, I'd imagine."
"Strength training is part of our regimen, my lord."
Adom leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone was light, almost playful. "Stronger than me?"
Inside, his mind was working. He needed to evade her long enough to go see Valiant right away, and set up the changeling plan.
Peregrine's expression didn't change. "I could not say, my lord. I have not observed you in combat."
"Well, I'm a Magus," Adom said, grinning. "Magi are usually the strongest mages after the Archmage himself. It's just funny, you know? That they'd assign a Shadow to protect someone like me. Like sending a guard to protect a fortress."
He watched her carefully.
"Do you think you could beat me, Peregrine?" he asked, still smiling and casual, but there was an edge to the question now. A challenge underneath the friendly tone.
Peregrine was quiet for a moment. Then: "My job is not to fight you, my lord."
Damn right it's not, Adom thought. Because you're here to spy on me, not protect me.
He didn't say that.
"Of course not," he said instead. "But for me to feel safe, I need to know the capability of my protector. I need to understand what you can do. How you operate."
"I am trained in close combat, ranged combat, infiltration, tracking, and several forms of—"
"How about a game?" Adom interrupted.
Peregrine stopped.
"A game of tag," Adom said. "All over Arkhos. You try to catch me in under twenty minutes."
She stared at him. "My lord, I do not believe—"
"Think about it," Adom continued, his enthusiasm building in a way that seemed genuine but was entirely calculated. "Tag tests everything. Your agility, because you'll need to navigate the city at speed. Your strength, because you might need to vault over obstacles or break through barriers. Your endurance, because twenty minutes of pursuit across Arkhos is no small feat." He leaned back, spreading his hands. "And I'll even let you use magic. No limitations. Do your absolute best. Use whatever spells you want, whatever techniques you've been trained in. Show me what a Shadow can really do."
He paused, letting that sink in, then continued with a more serious tone. "Because if you can't keep up with me—if I'm faster than my own protector—then I'd have to request a replacement Shadow. Think about it: if there's a threat targeting a mage of my caliber, and you can't even catch me in a controlled environment, then in a real crisis, I'd be the one protecting you instead of the other way around. You'd become a weight instead of a protector. And I can't have that."
For the first time since he'd met her, something flickered across Peregrine's face. It was small, barely there, just a slight tension at the corner of her jaw. But it was something.
She could be provoked, it seemed. That was good. That was useful.
"My lord," she said, and her voice was still controlled but there was a thread of something underneath it now, "I am not certain this is an appropriate use of—"
"Are you saying you can't catch me?" Adom asked, tilting his head with an innocent expression that was absolutely deliberate.
Another flicker. Her posture shifted by perhaps an inch, her shoulders drawing back just slightly.
"I did not say that, my lord."
"Then prove it," Adom said. "I need to know my protector can keep up with me if something goes wrong. If we're attacked and I need to move fast. If we get separated in a crowd. This isn't just a game; it's a legitimate test of your capabilities in a realistic scenario." He paused, then added with a grin, "Unless you think I'm too fast for you?"
Peregrine's eyes narrowed. Just a fraction. Just enough.
"I will catch you, my lord," she said, and there was the faintest edge of certainty in her voice now, professional pride breaking through the perfect composure.
"Twenty minutes," Adom said, standing up. "Starting now."
He reached out and tapped her shoulder.
"Tag."
And then he vanished.
Comments
Gernot Bahle
I have to agree with Mel. Going completely silent for a month is just such an awesome way to show respect and appreciation to your fans and supporters. 🤷♂️
Mel
Happy holidays, happy new year, take care! Still, I hate a unannounced hiatus. It takes 30 seconds to write a short message and makes your patreons "happy" or "understanding". Nobody is angry about a pause, life is life, but waiting daily for a new chapter without any notification is...bad style.
