Kael. Chapter 10.
Kael moved like a drifting shadow, all slow confidence and lazy grace, blending effortlessly into the loose groups of villagers that filled the market streets.
He didn't follow too close, he wasn't stupid. Not when the two disciples ahead were from the Sky Sword Sect, a group so famous for their strength and pride that even their sneezes probably struck fear into small animals.
The taller one had a stiff, stick-up-his-butt posture that screamed "upper disciple," while the other, shorter and broader, carried himself like a smug little toad who thought he owned the road.
The duo weaved through the bustling merchant district, not with stealth, but with loud purpose, their eyes scanning faces, their mouths barking questions, and their robes flaring as dramatically as wind allowed.
Kael frowned slightly as he watched. This wasn't a search. This was a parade.
They were stopping at random stalls, asking sharp questions, flipping open crates of turnips like they expected to find stolen treasure beneath some carrots.
One of them even sniffed a merchant's hair and asked, "Have you seen anyone suspicious recently?"—earning a loud "I sell onions, what do you think!?" from the poor, scared man.
Kael kept moving, occasionally stopping to pretend to inspect pottery or pick at dried meat hanging from wooden stands, always keeping the duo in his sight but never close enough to seem interested.
Beside him, Helga followed with the calm, bored energy of a giant mountain lion that hadn't decided whether to nap or kill someone yet.
She didn't say anything, but Kael could tell she was watching the two disciples just as carefully as he was. That woman missed nothing.
But the longer he watched the so-called "sweep," the more Kael's frown deepened.
It was too loud. Too obvious. This wasn't how you searched for someone like Silas.
Silas the Shadow was apparently a name spoken with dread and respect, especially in the underworld of Riverdale.
He wasn't just a thief. He was a legend. He was the kind of man who could sneak into a vault guarded by enchanted stone golems, ancient traps, and angry grandmothers with brooms, and still walk out without leaving a footprint.
People said he once pickpocketed a sect elder's underwear during a battle!
If even half the rumors were true, Silas was the kind of rogue who could be standing right behind you, breathing down your neck, and you'd only realize it after he'd stolen your pants and your lunch.
And yet here were two Sky Sword Sect elites, supposedly hunting him while shouting his name across fruit markets.
That didn't make sense.
If Silas really had stolen something precious from the Sky Sword Sect, wouldn't they not want him to know they were coming?
Wouldn't they be sweeping the village quietly, sending messages to hidden watchers, maybe even planting traps?
Instead, it felt like they were trying to scare him away.
Kael rubbed his chin. 'Unless… they want him to be alerted!'
That thought landed heavy in his mind, like a stone dropped into still water. He didn't like the ripples it sent out.
Why would they want Silas to know they were searching for him? Wouldn't that make it harder to catch him?
Unless…
"Unless they don't want to catch him quietly," Kael muttered, just loud enough for Helga to glance sideways.
"Hmm?"
Kael shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking."
Helga didn't push. She never did. Which was both comforting and terrifying.
She trusted Kael's instincts, but she also carried herself like she'd follow him straight into a dragon's mouth just to see what would happen.
The pair of disciples continued their dramatic, obnoxious sweep through the district, knocking over baskets, peering under carts, and making merchants furious.
But even through the theatrics, his mind was spinning.
This wasn't a search, it was a message. They wanted Silas to see them. To know they were here. To know they were looking.
But why?
Was it a challenge? A trap? A distraction?
Maybe the treasure Silas stole wasn't even the real goal.
Maybe…
Helga tapped his arm gently, nodding forward.
The two disciples had stopped in front of a massive, ornate shop in the very center of the village square.
Unlike the dusty stalls and leaning shacks that made up most of Riverdale's merchant district, this shop was a beast.
It was two stories high, had polished redwood pillars, golden lanterns hanging outside, and a name carved in fine calligraphy above the doors: Five Rivers Curios & Rarities.
Kael narrowed his eyes. He couldn't remember anything about this place from the memories of the previous owner of his body. And the disciples didn't knock. They barreled in.
Bang!
The doors flew open with a bang so loud it startled birds off nearby rooftops. Shouting followed. Loud, angry shouting.
Inside, shelves crashed. Glass shattered. Something wooden hit the floor with a thud. Then came more yelling, some of it frightened, some of it smug.
Kael and Helga stopped near the alley's edge, sliding into a patch of shadow behind a fruit stall draped in drying peppers.
From here, Kael had a clear view of the entrance, and he crouched just enough to avoid drawing attention.
"What now?" Helga asked softly.
"We watch," Kael replied.
And so they did.
Minutes passed. The shop's interior echoed with bangs and crashes as the two Sky Sword disciples carried out their dramatic destruction.
From the window, Kael saw shelves of trinkets torn down, a shopkeeper shoved aside, papers flying like snow.
It looked less like a search and more like a message again. Like they were showing the whole square just how little they cared about politeness.
Then the mood shifted.
The taller disciple came out first. He had something in his hands.
Kael's eyes immediately snapped to the object, and his brows lifted.
It was a compass. But not just any compass.
The object shimmered in the light like polished gemstone, its outer casing a deep, lustrous brown, etched with swirling golden lines that pulsed softly, like veins glowing with life.
In its center was a circular face with a single arrow of crimson that vibrated slightly in the air, floating rather than resting on glass.
Every villager nearby instinctively stepped back as the artifact released a pressure so dense it made the air thrum.
Kael's frown returned, heavier this time.
That was a true artifact. No mistake about it. Something old. Something powerful. Not the kind of thing that should've been lying around in some random village shop.
So what the hell was it doing here?
Thud!
The shopkeeper never stood a chance.
One moment, he was cowering behind a shattered counter, trying to salvage whatever dignity a man could cling to when his shelves had just been turned into toothpicks.
The next, the two Sky Sword Sect disciples had him by the collar, dragging him out of his own shop like a sack of rotten potatoes being thrown out for offending someone's nose.
The taller one held him with a single hand, his grip so firm the man's feet barely touched the ground, while the shorter, broader disciple strutted beside him, twirling the sparkling compass between his fingers like it was a toy.
The compass pulsed in the disciple's hand with a golden-red light, casting flickering shadows across the stone street as the crowd gathered.
Villagers watched from a distance, hiding behind carts, peeking through windows, some even pretending to shop just so they could stay close without looking too curious.
After all, when Sky Sword Sect disciples got involved in anything, most people knew better than to blink too loudly.
That sect wasn't just strong. It was untouchable. And right now, two of those terrifying monsters were accusing a chubby, balding merchant of stealing their treasure.
Kael, of course, watched all of this from his comfortable shadow. Helga leaned against the wall beside him. Neither of them moved. Neither of them needed to. The show had only just begun.
"You will answer," the tall disciple said, voice hard as granite soaked in rage.
"This item is the Sunstone Token, a sacred artifact lost in a forbidden raid last month. A Sky Sword Sect heirloom. And it was found in your shop." He leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched. "Explain."
"I—I—I didn't steal anything!" the merchant stammered, flailing his arms like a fish stuck on dry land.
"I bought it! I swear on the Nine Rivers! It was just another day! A foreigner came into town with some items to sell. He looked rough, tired, hungry, desperate even.
"He had scrolls, trinkets, some rare crystals, then this compass thing! Said he needed coin for passage east! I bought it fair! I have proof! I logged the trade in my ledgers!"
"Was his name Silas?" the short one cut in, eyes sharp and hungry.
"I—I didn't ask! He didn't say!" the merchant wheezed. "He just said he was in a hurry! Looked like he hadn't bathed in a month!"
"Then he must be Silas," the taller disciple growled. "You aided a thief. Sold the treasure of our sect. Profited off our misfortune."
"No! No, I didn't know!" the merchant yelled, his knees nearly buckling. "I'm just a shopkeeper! A man brings you a shiny compass with ancient runes, what do you do? Say no?! He didn't say he stole it!"
"Silas never says anything," the short one snorted. "That's why they call him the Shadow."
The taller disciple raised a hand. For a second, Kael thought he was going to strike the merchant.
Instead, he pointed to the compass, which was now glowing like a piece of molten gold.
"This compass was bound with sect blood. Only our elders can make these. The moment we touched it, we felt the echo of our Gate inside it. You don't buy something like that. You steal it. Or you help someone hide it."
"But I didn't know!" the merchant wailed again, so loud that even a chicken two alleys over squawked in sympathy.
Kael tilted his head, eyebrows twitching with amusement. "I almost feel bad for him," he muttered.
Helga's lips twitched. "He'll live. Probably."
The drama continued. The short disciple twisted the man's arm behind his back, dragging him closer.
"You're coming with us," he declared. "To the village head. For questioning. Let's see if your memory improves when your bones start aching."
"I swear I have proof!" the man shouted, now being half-dragged and half-bounced along the cobblestone road. "Check my books! My ledgers! I log everything! My wife makes me! She's terrifying!"
"Then she has my sympathy," the tall one said dryly.
The three disappeared down the street, leaving behind a trail of dust, confusion, and one slightly wrecked shop.
The compass still glowed faintly in the disciple's hand as they vanished in the direction of the village head's mansion.
Kael watched them go. Then… he smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile. It was the kind of slow, sharp grin a fox gives when it realizes the henhouse door is wide open and the farmer is looking the other way.
He began to think. Hard.
The loud public sweep. The coin tossed at him like hush money. The overly polite invitation for the disciples to join the village head for tea.
And now… this? A legendary Sky Sword artifact, just happens to show up in a random village shop? And they just happen to find it during a noisy patrol?
Kael didn't believe in that many coincidences. Not even on his most charitable days. No. This whole thing stank of theater. Not the good kind either.
This was the kind where the actors were just pretending to forget their lines, but secretly knew exactly where the spotlight was.
"Too staged," Kael murmured.
"What is?" Helga asked.
Kael's eyes were still on the road where the disciples had vanished. He began to speak calmly.
"The compensation to me? That was to keep up appearances. Maintain their reputation. The polite invite from the village head? A smokescreen. Keep the tension down, make it all look normal.
"Then the loud sweeps that were ridiculously loud? That was to stir rumors. Stir the right rumors. And now this dramatic compass 'recovery' in public? That was their finale."
He tapped a finger against his lips, grinning again.
"They're not just searching for Silas. They're setting up a narrative. Something big. Something deliberate.
"This wasn't about catching the thief. This was about how the sect wants to be seen handling it. They're running a grand misdirection."
"And what's the real play?" Helga asked.
Kael's grin turned downright dangerous now. "No idea. Not yet. But misdirections always have cracks. And those cracks always leave opportunities."
He stepped away from the shadows, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder like he was preparing to walk onto a stage.
"And I intend to benefit from every single one of them."