Chương 27: Chapter 26: Truth

The silence after Tessa's question stretched. Rellen's brow furrowed, his expression shifting from concern to confusion.

"Why does that matter?" he asked, his voice genuinely puzzled.

"It just does," she said quickly, too quickly. The words came out defensively, even to her own ears. Should she just ask him outright? Do you know where my father and sister are? But what if he didn't know? What if he knew something and refused to tell her? His gaze searched her face, trying to piece together what had caused this sudden shift. She could see him working through it, probably cataloging her reactions like he cataloged everything else. Panic fluttered in her chest.

She needed to give him something, needed to make him want to answer her. The words tumbled out before she could think them through.

"I'll tell you everything," she blurted.

"About the job I got. The one that led me to Veilcross. Who gave it to me, how I closed the dungeon, all of it." He must not know those details, she reasoned frantically. Rion gave her the job without paperwork, and Rellen said he didn't know about the existence of the cube until Veilcross. Which meant there were gaps in his knowledge, things she could fill in. Things that might be worth trading for what she wanted. But Rellen's expression changed immediately.

His focus sharpened, and something darker flickered across his features, maybe disappointment. He straightened slightly.

"Did you plan to lie before?" he asked, his voice quieter than before.

"Or did you plan to simply not tell the truth?" His eyes fixed on hers, unblinking.

"You're offering this information now that you want something from me?" The accusation hit like a slap. She felt her stomach drop. She had been planning to tell him the truth, had been planning to give him all the information he wanted and clean her hands of this business. But now, suddenly faced with the possibility that he might know something about her family, she was ready to change her mind and trade it instead.

"I—" She stopped, caught between denial and honesty. Her hands twisted in the blanket.

"No, I planned to tell you everything," she finally admitted.

"My request makes me sound suspicious, I know." She knew. It made her sound exactly like what he probably already thought she was: an opportunist, someone who dealt in information and withheld truth until it suited her purposes. Someone who couldn't be trusted. But desperation made people do stupid things. And right now, Tessa was desperate.

"Look," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze even though everything in her wanted to look away.

"I want something from you. Information. And I'm not sure if you'll just... give it to me, or make an effort. For free. So I'm making a deal instead. Information exchange. I tell you what you want to know about Veilcross and the cube, and you tell me what you found when you investigated me. Everything you found." Her heart hammered as she said it. This was a gamble, a desperate, transparent gamble.

She was showing her hand completely, making it obvious that she needed something from him badly enough to trade for it. But what other choice did she have?

"That way," she continued, her voice gaining a fraction more confidence, "we both get what we want. Fair trade. And you can be sure I'm telling you the truth, because I'll have just as much invested in this exchange as you do." Rellen remained silent, studying her with those sharp, analytical eyes. She couldn't read his expression, couldn't tell if he was considering her offer or already planning a refusal. The silence stretched again, but this time she forced herself to wait, to let him process.

She'd laid her cards on the table. Now she could only hope he'd be willing to play. His expression had hardened, the concern from moments ago evaporating entirely. When he spoke, his voice was level but carried an unmistakable weight.

"Are you aware," he said slowly, deliberately, "of what punishment would befall you if you choose to hide information that is integral for the continued safety of the Empire?" Her breath caught.

"You could be accused of aiding the enemy," he continued, each word falling like a stone.

"It would net you a lovely stay in prison if you were lucky." He paused, letting that sink in.

"And a swift execution if you were not." The blood drained from her face. Her hands went numb where they clutched the blanket. Prison or execution. The words echoed in her skull, drowning out everything else. She hadn't thought about that. Hadn't even considered it. She'd been so focused on the artifacts themselves that she'd never stopped to think about the larger implications. But Rellen had implied—no, practically stated—that he was one of the Emperor's own people. Which meant this wasn't just some empty thread.

And she'd been planning to withhold information that mattered for Imperial security. Her vision swam slightly at the edges. Who would care for Larry if she got imprisoned? Or worse? Her companion would be left alone in his stall, waiting for her to come. He'd starve, or end up on the streets, or—"Though," Rellen's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, "I am a bit hurt that you don't believe I would tell you what you want to know about your own life."

Her head snapped up, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. The hard edge had softened, replaced by something that sounded almost... wounded? He shook his head slightly, a wry expression crossing his features.

"I had hoped I hadn't made a completely useless and unreliable impression on you." A hint of self-deprecation colored his words.

"But I had no intention of hiding anything from you. At least, not anything that I could talk about." She stared at him; her panic-addled brain struggling to process the abrupt change in direction.

"You have to understand," he continued, his voice earnest now, "I recognize that you've saved and helped me out considerably. Taking the cubes, closing both dungeons—those actions prevented something that had the potential to be catastrophic." He held her gaze steadily.

"Even the Emperor is aware of this." The words hit her like a physical blow. The Emperor. The Emperor knew about her.

"You are currently in his grace," he continued, something that might have been reassurance in his tone.

"That counts for something. That counts for a great deal, actually." Tessa felt faint. Her ears buzzed. The Emperor himself was aware of her in some capacity. Aware of her existence, her actions, her name maybe even. This was far too high for her measly self. She was nobody—a recent Guild recruit with no notable skills, no fancy family connections, no achievements worth mentioning. And now the Emperor knew who she was to some extent. Her hands started trembling. This was so far beyond anything she'd imagined.

She'd thought maybe she'd gotten herself tangled up in some minor investigation, something she could extract herself from and go back to taking normal jobs. But this? This was imperial level.

"I—" Her voice came out as barely a whisper. She swallowed hard and tried again.

"The Emperor knows about me?" The question sounded stupid even as she asked it, but she needed to hear it confirmed, needed to know she hadn't misheard or misunderstood. Rellen's expression shifted again, this time taking on a distinctly sheepish quality. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed.

"During the planning sessions," he began, his voice losing some of its formal edge, "I wanted to secure some benefits for you. For helping." He grimaced slightly.

"I might have... talked too much. So, people got interested." She felt her stomach drop even further. People. What people? How many people?

"Though," he added quickly, clearly seeing her expression, "many were more interested in Larry than you, if that helps." It didn't help. Not really. The image of imperial officials sitting around a table discussing her bird was even more surreal than them discussing her.

"Look," Rellen said, his tone consoling, "it only means good things if the Emperor knows of you. Trust me on this." Tessa's eyes narrowed. Some of her panic crystallized into skepticism.

"Is that true?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He met her gaze.

"If you behave yourself?" He paused for emphasis.

"Yes. It's good." The caveat hung in the air like a threat wrapped in reassurance.

"After this, my coworkers could probably investigate any information you want regarding your own life," he continued, apparently deciding to push forward while she was still reeling.

"You can request things from the Empire, to a degree. Naturally." He added that last word as if it were obvious that imperial favors came with limitations.

"But, information should be doable." She felt all the wind leave her sails. The sneaky bargaining, the careful withholding of information, her attempt at making a calculated trade, all of it collapsed like a house of cards. This sounded too good to be true. Which usually meant it was too good to be true. But Rellen's expression was earnest, almost eager, like he genuinely thought he was offering her something valuable. Maybe he was. Maybe she'd stumbled onto something that would actually help her find her family.

Or maybe she was being played by someone far more skilled at this than she was. Stolen novel; please report.

"I could also," Rellen continued, clearly warming to his topic now, "get you a place in the Maker's Guild. Or maybe preferably, a position in the palace as an apprentice under an Artisan?"

"No." The word came out sharp and immediate, before Tessa's brain even fully processed what he'd said.

"Absolutely not. The palace." She shook her head firmly.

"That just sounds like trouble." He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unbothered by her vehement refusal.

"It pays well," he said mildly.

"And it's a cushy job if you plan right. Good benefits, stable employment, access to resources most crafters would kill for." He said it as if he were describing a pleasant country inn rather than a position that would place her directly in the heart of imperial politics. As if working in the palace, surrounded by nobles and courtiers and people who actually mattered, wouldn't be a potential disaster. She took a breath, trying to force her thoughts to slow down. She had two options, really.

Tell the truth and hope Rellen was being honest about the benefits, or keep trying to bargain and potentially face the consequences he'd outlined—prison, execution, and poor Larry left alone. When she put it like that, there was only one actual answer. She sighed, her shoulders sagging.

"Alright," she said quietly.

"I'll believe you." The silence that followed felt different somehow, less suffocating, more expectant. She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket; her face growing warm. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him as she added, voice barely above a mumble, "And you didn't... you didn't make a useless impression. Or unreliable." Her cheeks burned hotter. Why was this so hard to say?

"Maybe a bit secretive," she continued, still not meeting his eyes.

"But in general, a good impression." The embarrassment was crushing. She felt as if she were confessing something far more significant than a simple assessment of his character. Her fingers twisted the blanket fabric into knots. Finally, she forced herself to look up, needing to see his reaction—and immediately regretted it. Rellen had a boyish smile spreading across his face, warm and genuinely pleased, like she'd just given him an unexpected gift.

It transformed his features entirely, making him look years younger and far too satisfied with himself. Irritation flared in her chest, hot and immediate.

"Shut it," she snapped, pointing a finger at him.

"Don't say anything. Not one word." The smile didn't fade, though he pressed his lips together in an obvious attempt to comply. His eyes still crinkled at the corners, radiating amusement. Tessa huffed, looking away again. Fine. She'd just push through this and get it over with.

"I found the cube in Outpost Vire," she began, her voice stronger now that she'd committed to telling the truth.

"By accident. During a fight." She paused, remembering that chaotic moment.

"Larry fell into a cellar." Rellen's eyebrow rose slowly, his smile fading into an expression of mild bewilderment.

"At the time I didn't know it had created the dungeon," she continued quickly, before he could interrupt with questions.

"I just... took it. And played around with it for a bit." He visibly winced at her words. The idea of someone just "playing around" with an unknown magical artifact clearly pained him on a fundamental level.

"Shush," she said immediately, raising her hand before he could voice whatever horrified protest was clearly forming.

"Just... let me talk for now." He closed his mouth, though his expression remained deeply troubled.

"I believed at the time," she said slowly, picking her words with care, "that it was a coincidence that the dungeon closed at the same time the cube made a clicking noise when I turned a few sides." She said it with as much conviction as she could muster, even though she knew— knew —it sounded absurd. The look on Rellen's face suggested he thought so too. She pressed on, eager to get through this now that she'd started.

"Afterwards, I took Guild deliveries for a few months. Simple stuff, mostly." She shifted on the cot, the springs creaking.

"Most of my jobs were recommended by the same Guild clerk. His name is Rion. He always had a job ready after I came back from the previous one." She could picture him clearly, standing behind the Guild counter, always seeming to know exactly when she'd arrive, always with that helpful smile and a new contract ready.

"That went on until Rion asked me for a favor," she continued, her voice growing quieter.

"To make a delivery that wasn't logged through the Guild." She swallowed, her cheeks heating again.

"I took it. As a favor, and... for the pay." Money. Again. She hated how mercenary it made her sound, but it was the truth. She'd needed the coin, and Rion had been offering good money for what seemed like straightforward work. Rellen leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening.

"This is the job that led you to Jorran?" Tessa nodded.

"Had you met Rion before that point?" he asked, his tone becoming more focused, more investigative.

"Do you know anything about him? Where he's from, his background, anything?" She shook her head.

"No. He was just... there. At the Guild. We never talked about anything private."

"His appearance?" Rellen pressed. Tessa described him—average height, his hair kept neat, clean-shaven, probably in his early thirties. Forgettable, really, in how clerks often were. Pleasant face. Nothing stood out as suspicious at the time. Rellen's gaze shifted upward, toward the ceiling.

"Did you get that?" he asked the empty air. A knock came at the door—sharp and confirming. Tessa froze. Of course people were listening. Of course this entire conversation was being monitored, probably analyzed by whoever Rellen worked with. Her skin crawled with the awareness of unseen eyes and ears.

"Thank you," he said, his attention returning to her.

"Mm," she hummed noncommittally, unable to form actual words. Her throat felt tight.

"The way you closed the dungeon in Veilcross," he continued, either not noticing her discomfort or choosing to ignore it, "was it the same as in the Outpost?" She nodded mutely. Relief washed visibly across his features. His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath.

"Good. That's good. We need to document the exact process—write down every step, every detail you remember." He glanced around the sparse room, his eyes scanning for something. Finding nothing, annoyance showed on his face.

"No paper," he muttered.

"We'll have to do that later." Tessa just nodded again, still feeling the weight of that knock on the door, the knowledge that strangers were listening to every word she said. She wondered how many people were out there. What they thought of her. Whether they believed her story or were already building a case against her. The room suddenly felt much smaller than it had moments before. Rellen stood from where he'd been sitting and made his way to her side of the cot. He paused there, hovering uncertainly.

"May I sit?" he asked. She simply nodded. The cot dipped under his added weight as he settled beside her. The interrogation seemed to be over; his posture had relaxed, his expression softening into something gentler and familiar.

"The people here," he said quietly, gesturing vaguely toward the door and the walls beyond, "they're here for our protection." She said nothing. The knowledge that strangers were listening didn't feel protective. It felt invasive. Noticing that his reassurance had landed flat, he continued.

"The guards have three objectives." He ticked them off as he spoke.

"Protect the cubes. Protect me—I'm a squishy mage under level one hundred, after all." A wry smile touched his lips at the self-deprecating admission.

"And protect you, a helpful civilian." Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. The movement was tentative, asking permission even as he acted. He pulled her gently toward his side. Tessa's first instinct was to resist, to pull away from the awkward attempt at comfort. She didn't do this; didn't accept casual physical comfort from people she barely knew. But something in her was too worn down, too tired to fight it. And honestly, despite the awkwardness, it was... nice.

She let herself lean into him slightly, just enough to accept the gesture.

"I'm the least important of the three, though," she murmured, the words coming out before she could stop them. Rellen snorted, an actual, genuine snort of amusement. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch. The one containing the cubes. He held it out to her.

"Here," he said, his tone light, almost teasing.

"Now you're the most important, if you take them." Tessa's eyes went wide. She jerked back slightly, staring at the pouch as if it might bite her.

"No," she said immediately, her voice rising.

"No way. Absolutely not. I will not take them back." The vehemence in her own voice surprised her.

"I just got rid of them," she continued, shaking her head emphatically.

"Do you have any idea how relieved I was to hand those things over? I'm not—I refuse—no." Rellen laughed. Not a polite chuckle or a suppressed smile, but an actual, full laugh that made his shoulders shake. The sound filled the small room, bright and genuine and completely at odds with everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Despite herself, despite the lingering anxiety and the awareness of listeners, she felt the corner of her mouth twitch upward. The tension loosened just slightly.

It was a nice moment. Unexpected and brief, but nice. He tucked the pouch back into his pocket, still grinning.

"Fair enough," he said, his arm still around her shoulders.

"Can't blame you for that." She shook her head again, but this time there was less panic in it. More exasperation.

"You're annoying," she muttered.

"So I've been told," he replied cheerfully. Time kept running, and at some point they had shifted positions, both now sitting with their backs against the wall, the rough wool blanket stretched across both their laps. The cot groaned occasionally beneath their combined weight, but held. She found herself oddly comfortable despite everything.

"I hope you don't have a lover somewhere," she said, breaking the companionable silence. A wry smile tugged at her lips.

"Our position could be mistaken for something else." Rellen made a noise, something between a laugh and a sigh.

"No lover here to make jealous," he said easily. Then he side-eyed her, and she could see mischief creeping into his expression.

"Aren't you the one who should worry about a sweetheart getting the wrong idea?" Her momentary good mood evaporated instantly. Her spine stiffened.

"If you mean my ex," she said, her voice sharp with annoyance, "you should quit as an investigator. We separated a long time ago." He squeezed her shoulder gently.

"I've heard through the grapevine," he said carefully, his tone more diplomatic now, "that he's made an effort to ingratiate himself with you again. He was heard defending you to his friends and colleagues." She let out a harsh breath through her nose.

"I don't believe Dren would speak well of me just because he cared," she said flatly.

"That ship has sailed. Sunk, actually. Hit a rock and went down with all hands." The bitterness in her own voice surprised her slightly. She'd thought she was over it—over him —but apparently some resentment still lingered.

"I didn't mean anything bad by it," he said quickly, awkwardness creeping back into his voice.

"Just... making conversation. Poorly, apparently." She sighed, letting some of the tension drain from her shoulders. It wasn't his fault.

"Forget it," she muttered. She shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket. The silence stretched again, but this time it felt heavier, less comfortable. She needed to move past this, focus on something practical.

"So what's the plan from now on?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Just wait until we get the all-clear?"

"Pretty much," he confirmed. He tilted his head back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly.

"Wait for my people to finish their sweep of the area, confirm there are no immediate threats, and then we'll move to a more secure location for debriefing."

"More secure than this?" Tessa glanced around the bare room pointedly.

"Much more secure," he said.

"This is temporary. A holding point. The real safe house has actual amenities, beds that don't threaten to collapse, food, hot water." He opened one eye to look at her.

"Maybe even boots that fit." She wiggled her still-bare toes under the blanket.

"That would be nice," she admitted.

"Though," he added, with a hint of warning in his tone, "there will be more questions. More detailed debriefings. My superiors will want to hear everything directly from you about the cubes, the dungeons, this clerk Rion." He paused.

"It won't be as casual as this."

"You call this casual?" She asked dryly.

"You threatened me with execution."

"I provided context about potential consequences," he corrected, but there was a smile in his voice.

"There's a difference."

"Subtle difference."

"Important difference." Tessa shook her head but smiled. This was surreal, sitting here sharing a blanket with an imperial investigator, joking about interrogations and executions while people listened from beyond the door.

"How long do you think we'll be waiting?" she asked. Rellen shrugged, the motion jostling her slightly.

"Could be an hour. Could be several. Depends on what they find and how quickly they can verify the area is clear."

"So we just... sit here."

"We just sit here," he confirmed.

"Great," she muttered, but she didn't actually mind as much as she pretended to. After the chaos of the night, sitting quietly in a safe room wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even if people were listening. Even if the Emperor himself apparently knew her now. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how complicated her life had suddenly become.... A pulse of cold washed over her. Her eyes snapped open as the familiar chime rang in her ears. [You have entered the Dungeon: ███████]