The day finally ended.
After signing the residency forms and a stack of other documents, Telamon explained that it would be a few days before the lease was finalized. Since the crown still had to approve the purchase, the process wasn't quite finished—but he assured Cane the sale would go through.
It was dark by the time Cane walked Sophie home. They strolled hand in hand, arms swinging gently as they reminisced about the day's events.
Dagan took the news about the sale with his usual stoic calm. But Lorna sat in stunned silence, her face caught somewhere between joy, disbelief, and something deeper—redemption.
A lifetime of tailoring. Of saving scraps. Of doing her best with Dagan to keep food on the table. Talent had always been there, but in a land torn by war, even talent didn't always pay the bills.
"Thirty-eight thousand platinum?" Lorna repeated, staring down at the bill of sale and the runic credit chit from the Olivara Auction House. "What's my share of that?"
"That is your share," Cane replied, for the third time.
"We should celebrate!" Dagan ducked into the pantry and returned with a bottle of wine.
"You never took the dresses to Meguli?" he asked.
Cane shook his head. "His consignment cut was too steep. I figured they'd do well at auction… but I didn't expect bidding to start at twenty thousand platinum."
"Twenty thousand?" Lorna sat slowly, fanning herself with one hand. "Heavens…"
Sophie passed behind her, pulling glasses from the cupboard. "The auctioneer called you the Renowned Lorna Sweetwater."
Dagan popped the cork and poured the wine with a grin. "That means you're officially a big deal."
"I know what it means," Lorna murmured, accepting her glass, blinking rapidly. A tear slid down her cheek as Dagan wrapped her in a quiet, steady hug.
Sophie smiled and held out a small, ornate wooden box. "We got this for you both."
Dagan opened the box to reveal a copper ring—ordinary looking, but clearly special. "Is this like Cane's? One of those storage rings?"
Sophie nodded. "It's already filled. Mostly basic supplies—but some rare ones, too. You'll never run short."
Dagan swiped the ring, peering into its contents with wide eyes. "Look at all this…"
"Let me see it before you break it," Lorna said, gently plucking the ring from his hand. Her eyes lit up. "Moonlight silk? Spiderweb thread? And these pattern books!" A thick tome appeared in her hands, which she immediately began flipping through while Dagan read over her shoulder, equally entranced.
While they were distracted, Cane slid another small wooden box toward Sophie.
"Sorry," he said. "I know you said you didn't need it. But since you talked me into buying an estate, I figured we're even."
Sophie sighed but slipped the storage ring onto her finger. Then she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"Thank you, Cane."
After walking Sophie back to Sun Tower, Cane returned to his dorm, trudging up the steps like he was carrying someone on his back.
"Why am I so tired?" he muttered.
He dropped into the chair at his desk, eyes drifting to the loose floor tile where First Knight Meya Rowe had once left a stash for the next occupant. That little cache had included a copper storage ring and a detailed journal of her squad's missions.
"I should leave something too when I graduate."
Cane transferred the contents of his old copper ring into the silver one he'd purchased at auction, then—with a dramatic flourish—placed the copper ring back into its original wooden box.
"First inheritance item: one well-traveled copper storage ring."
A loud thump echoed in the room as he pulled two thick books from the silver ring. One was the ledger from the Twisted Snake, the pirate vessel they'd taken down. The other, the personal log of Captain Orion—the infamous slaver.
"Cane."
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, familiar and calm. A rift opened, and Telamon stepped through.
"Sir?" Cane asked, surprised to see him again so soon.
"Are those the books recovered from the Twisted Snake?"
Cane nodded. "One's a ledger, the other the captain's log."
"As I mentioned after the raid, the platinum recovered from the Snake will go to the families of Orion's victims."
Cane understood immediately. "You need the ledger to identify them."
Telamon nodded once. "Exactly. The finance division will return it once reparations are handled."
"You need the log too?"
"No," Telamon said simply. He accepted the ledger, then vanished through a second rift without another word.
Cane sat back and opened the remaining book. Orion's handwriting was clean, precise—every entry dated and well-documented.
"I should be in here…"
He flipped ahead to the date he'd left Loramo Harbor aboard the Veda. Scanning the page, a familiar name jumped out.
Orion's Journal Entry
The Twisted Snake has scored big! We paid a few hundred gold for two prisoners taken during a naval skirmish—fools didn't realize they had Captain Rhiati and her first mate, Neri, of the Defiant. Captain Phen Styn of the Horatio Muldoon has offered a bounty of one thousand platinum each.
I let Skye and Nephrim question them for fleet intel. Skye seemed particularly enthusiastic—might be a grudge there I don't know about.
Cane's jaw tightened, fingers gripping the edge of the page. He flipped forward until a new entry, dated two weeks later, caught his eye.
Orion's Journal Entry
Pulled a young man from the water today. Dark hair, solid build—perfect for manual labor. Half-dead, dying of thirst and exposure. Tossed him in the hold with just enough water to keep him breathing.
"Perfect for manual labor? Bastard…" Cane muttered. "I mean, he's not wrong—but I do other things."
He turned the page—and grinned.
Orion's Journal Entry
Not sure what happened, but the boy we pulled from the sea escaped—with Neri and Rhiati. All three cell doors were found removed. Skye claims she hit him with a shot as they dove overboard.
She swears she winged him.
Cane laughed. "Nope. She missed. And now she's the prisoner."
He flipped to the next entry—and let out a low whistle.
Orion's Journal Entry
There's a traitor on board. Has to be. There's no way the half-dead castaway could've pulled that off alone. After talking it over with Skye and Nephrim, we've decided to replace the entire crew. Poison in the rum. Quick and clean. Burial at sea.
Cane closed the log slowly, staring at the cover for a long moment. He wasn't smiling anymore—but his expression held a deep, quiet satisfaction.
That chapter of his life, at last, had its closing paragraph.