Stone benches surrounded a fountain, offering perfect sightlines in every direction.

The shifting water and wind made scrying magic unreliable, the perfect place for real talk.

Speaking in a low voice, Kane informed them about the three surveillance crystals hidden inside the parlor.

Kessa immediately bared her fangs, stepping toward the doors.

"I can crush them right now."

Kane caught her wrist, holding her back.

"Leave them intact. Smashing their toys just tells them we have something to hide. From this second forward, everything we say inside those walls is a staged performance. Act accordingly."

Rutheus nodded slowly.

The barbarian understood political environments perfectly well. Thora and Sira adapted instantly, exchanging a knowing glance.

Kessa took a moment longer to process the strategy, but the realization eventually smoothed her aggressive posture.

Brak, however, looked completely lost.

Pulling the young warrior aside, Kane placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Brak, simple rule: Inside those walls, you only talk about training or how badly you want to fuck elven pussy. Nothing else."

Brak frowned in deep concentration, nodding seriously. "Got it, Chief."

Kane smirked and patted his shoulder.

"Good boy."

Leaving the group to settle their bags, Kane walked the perimeter of the courtyard alone. The Honored Guest District was beautiful but subtly constraining.

Designers deliberately arranged every single street to direct traffic toward the central palace, ensuring every sightline framed those silver spires.

’Unmapped territory,’ Kane thought, leaning against a marble pillar to study the skyline. ’No game data exists for this place. No strategy guide. I only have what I built and what I can read from the people around me.’

Grieselda materialized beside him without making a single sound. She stood right at his shoulder, staring up at the distant palace with her usual blank expression.

"You feel something different here," Kane noted, watching her profile.

She didn’t gesture or rely on the system translation. Slowly, she raised one pale hand and pressed it flat against her own chest, right over the mark.

’It’s pulling her,’ Kane realized.

"It’s closer here," he said, making a statement rather than asking a question.

She offered a single nod. Kane didn’t push to ask what exactly was closer. He simply filed the detail away for later.

Less than an hour later, a palace functionary arrived at their gates.

The young male elf looked exceptionally composed, delivering a formal invitation to the Welcome Ceremony with shallow warmth.

His keen eyes darted to Rutheus’s bound arm, then to Grieselda’s glowing neckline, before returning to a neutral stare with professional speed.

"Formal court attire is mandatory," the functionary stated, offering a polite smile. "The palace can provide appropriate garments for your party."

"We’ll wear what we came in. If the queen wants to see barbarians, she’ll see real ones, not dressed-up pets."

The functionary paused. His smile tightened into the specific expression of a bureaucrat planning to write a very detailed report about this interaction.

Giving a stiff bow, he turned and marched out of the courtyard.

Sira watched the elf disappear down the street.

"Was that necessary?"

"Everything in this city is designed to reshape how we see ourselves," Kane explained, looking at his women.

"Small concessions feed that process. If we put on their clothes, we start playing by their rules. We arrived as what we are, and we will stay as what we are."

Kessa leaned against the fountain.

"I don’t own court attire anyway."

"None of us do," Thora agreed, though a small frown touched her lips.

"Well, I have one good dress."

"It has a bloodstain right on the sleeve," Sira pointed out.

"I know it does. But it’s not that visible from a distance."

Kane looked at both of them for a moment. A smile broke across his face, not the predatory smirk he reserved for his enemies, but the rare smile that only surfaced when surrounded by people he truly trusted.

"Wear whatever you want," Kane chuckled softly. "You are going to make every single noblewoman in that hall feel inadequate regardless of what you wear."

Thora stepped close and kissed his shoulder affectionately. Sira pretended to ignore the compliment entirely, yet the tips of her pointed ears turned a very bright shade of pink. Kessa crossed her striped arms, looking slightly amused.

"That was almost charming."

"Almost," Kane agreed, winking at the beastwoman.

[Honored Guest District surveillance active]

[Note: The functionary’s report will reach the queen within the hour. She will read that you declined court attire. She will find this interesting for reasons that are not immediately obvious.]

Using his free afternoon properly, Kane left the compound to walk the District alone. He brought no escort and no eager entourage.

Dressed in plain clothes, he kept Mjoldr strapped securely to his back. Rutheus was right about the weapon; carrying it everywhere sent a very clear message.

The surrounding district catered exclusively to tournament participants and wealthy foreign dignitaries.

Maintained to a standard that whispered wealth without shouting it, the buildings featured pristine facades and sweeping arches.

Lush gardens sat between the tall residences, filled with exotic plants collected over five centuries from every corner of the empire.

Wandering near the district boundary, Kane discovered a bustling market. Merchants set up colorful tents to sell goods to the influx of tournament crowds.

The population here felt much more mixed. Humans, a few beastpeople, and traveling traders replaced the homogeneous elven population found in the inner city. Smells of spices and sweet pastries filled the air.

Kane paused in front of a weapon maintenance stall run by a gruff dwarven family. Sparks flew from a grinding wheel operated by a young apprentice, but the old dwarf manning the front counter stopped his work immediately.

His bushy eyebrows furrowed as he stared directly at Mjoldr. He looked at the steel with the intense attention of a master smith who was thoroughly confused by what he was seeing.

"That axe," the old dwarf grunted without any polite preamble, pointing a grease-stained finger at Kane’s back.

"What the hell is in that blade?"

Kane offered a relaxed, easy grin.

"A corrupted bear heart and a fallen angel’s essence."

The dwarf stared at him in silence for ten long seconds.

Shifting his gaze back to the weapon, the smith swallowed hard.

"You’re not joking," he finally said.

"No," Kane replied, eyes cold and confident.

"And I need someone who actually understands metal to make sure this thing doesn’t break when I use it to split an elven prince in half."