Rhane stood alone inside a chic, velvet-lined elevator, occupying himself by watching the hand of the floor counter climb steadily higher—sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven—look at it go. He tried to let his mind go blank, or else fall into the same cycle of bitter worries that had harassed him ever since his induction into the Executive Agents the previous night. He should have been ecstatic to have finally achieved his dreams—to be rubbing shoulders with the best and bravest adventurers the world over. Instead, all he could think about was her.

  Kaelis, his old adventuring partner, now officially an anarchist—kicked out of the Expeditioners Union and wanted by Verloren and every cutthroat from here to the pole. Just when you think you know someone, it turns out that they’re a thief and a liar and maybe even a heedless killer, as the people in payroll were speculating. When he’d bumped into her just the day before, was he secretly in danger? If he knew what she was, if he had tried to stop her, would she have… killed him? Would she still? And yet, when he saw her, she still seemed so… Kaelis-y. And a Kaelis-y person could never be the things they said she was. How could she be an enemy? There was just no way.

  There he went again, his mind spinning around in circles. What Rhane needed to do was focus. He was here for answers, and he knew just the person to get them from. Plus, he’d been standing in the open elevator at the top floor for several seconds now, and it was just about to become weird.

  Stepping out from the lift, Rhane entered into a dazzling bar of the highest luxury, both literally and figuratively. It was an explosion of opulence, like marble and mahogany had gone to war with one another and somehow both came out on top. Across the dining hall was a dramatically wide glass window, taking up the entire floor of the highrise, overlooking the city of Bruckhaven and the vast, dark expanse of the north beyond the canyon. All told, it was a breathtaking sight. It was just one of the many, many perks of being at the top.

  A glitzy-looking host manifested himself seemingly out of nowhere and greeted Rhane with the same level of respect and pleasantry one might reserve for royalty. He bowed impressively low and offered to take Rhane’s jacket, which Rhane politely declined. Snapping upright, the man then spun around with perfect precision and ushered Rhane towards the dining hall.

  The host led him across the lobby, passing by a line of people partitioned by a velvet rope, dressed in their finest clothes and stiff from hours of patient waiting. Rhane could hear them come alive as he walked by, electrically whispering to one another about him and his most recent feats. Eager to meet his new fans, Rhane quickly stopped and greeted the line of people, shaking a few hands and tossing out a few winks. A ripple of smiles spread across their faces, men and women alike. It was always nice to feel wanted, and it was equally nice to spread the love when he could.

  As he turned to catch up with the host, a glamorous woman stumbled into his chest.

  “Ey, wash it…” mumbled none other than Seras Pfierer, his fellow agent, her face swollen with alcohol. “Oh, heyyy!… Zis issa new kid,” she attempted to explain to the equally attractive, and equally drunk, man and woman hanging off her either arm. Before Rhane had a chance to say anything, she was already halfway across the lobby. “…Seeya morrow, Rhame,” she muttered as she and her companions flopped themselves into the elevator.

  Rhane couldn’t help but chuckle. At least now he knew he was definitely in the right place. The Sapphire Lounge at Steigen Tower was notorious among the rank-and-file of Verloren Industries, known far and wide as the official mingling place for the higher-ups of the entire company. On a given day, it wasn’t unusual to find upper management from the Bruckhaven region schmoozing with government officials, foreign dignitaries, high-ranking military, or the chief department officers if they were visiting from the capital. Rhane had even heard a story that Chairman Metzer had spent an entire evening hosting none other than the Emperor himself at a booth in the corner of the bar, now christened with a commemorative drawing and plaque. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have a chance to confirm that, as it would require being gauchely nosy.

  Catching back up to the host, Rhane apologized for keeping him waiting. If the host was bothered, he didn’t let it show. The man assured Rhane that it was less than no issue and showed him to a single table in the middle of the bar. Before the host took his leave, Rhane politely stopped him and explained who it was he was hoping to find.

  The host nodded cordially and gestured out to the balcony. Through the window, Rhane could see a large man dressed in a black cape and plate armor, sitting in an overstuffed chair and staring out over the wasteland.

  That was him.

  Rhane smiled appreciatively and slipped a folded banknote into the host’s jacket pocket. The man lit up and graciously bowed before returning to his post.

  Rhane wormed his way through the bustling bar and exited onto the balcony. As the doors shut behind him, the spirited hustle of the club was swallowed by a stark and windswept calm. He took a small breath, energizing himself with a refreshing gulp of night air, before approaching the one and only Darius Meyer.

  “Darius! Hey!” called Rhane with an affable wave. “Glad I ran into you.”

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  Darius did not turn around. He continued to stare out into the darkness of the north, his steel helmet veiling his eyes.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” asked Rhane, preemptively taking the seat next to him.

  Darius took a stern sip from his glass of simple red juice. “If you must,” he replied.

  “Ahh, the north.” Rhane leaned back into the exceptionally soft chair, taking in the view. “There it is. Sometimes I feel like that’s really home, you know what I’m saying?”

  Darius said nothing, but Rhane could see the faintest glimmer of agreement on the corners of his stubbled mouth.

  “So, tomorrow’s the big day,” Rhane continued. “Are you excited? I know I am! Never actually been in a parade before. I bet you’re pretty used to it, though.”

  Once again Darius remained silent.

  Rhane took a beat to work up his courage, figuring it best to just launch into it. “Hey, listen…” he said as he leaned in, his carefree attitude falling away. “I’m going to level with you. I heard you were up here, and I wanted to ask you something.”

  Darius took another sip of his drink. “That so?”

  “Yeah. Look, you’ve been the top agent for a while now, right?”

  “Hm,” Darius grunted with pride.

  “So that means you know all the ins and outs of the executive council. You got a feel for how they like to operate, yeah?”

  For the first time, Darius turned his head to face Rhane. “What’s your point?” he grilled.

  “Well, these anarchists we’re after… I know the Director said ‘terminate’, but—but she wasn’t serious, was she? Like, we turn them in, and they’ll just get a rap on the knuckles, maybe slapped with a fine or something, right? I mean, I looked into it, and they didn’t actually take the map from us. So, technically what they did wasn’t strictly illegal or anything.”

  Rhane couldn’t see Darius’s eyes behind his helmet, but he could feel them narrowing.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Hey, I don’t!” Rhane defensively announced. “They can go ahead and swing as far as I’m concerned. But I’m just trying to get a feel for things, wondering how this is all going to shake out. This is my first manhunt, you see.”

  Darius glared at Rhane, studying him intently. “They stole from the company—hurt it, embarrassed it,” he finally said. “They will receive nothing less than death.”

  And there it was. Rhane had dreaded that answer, though deep down he knew to expect it. But even now, with the words ringing clearly in his ears, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

  Rhane shook his head. “But like a metaphorical death, right?”

  Darius remained silent. Rhane tried to read his face, quite unsuccessfully. Nobody was this cold—this had to be a prank.

  “You’re—you’re joking. Ah—” Rhane declared with relief. He threw his head back and laughed uncomfortably. “And I almost fell for it! Oh, you got me good. Okay, okay, I see how it is. Let’s all pull one over on the new guy, hah hah.”

  Darius continued to stare Rhane in the eyes, his scowl only deepening. It was increasingly obvious that he was being deathly serious. Rhane’s pulse vanished from his chest.

  “You’re… you’re not joking…” he whispered, his face draining of color. “But… killing… Isn’t… isn’t that a bit extreme? The company can’t possibly—”

  “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about the company,” said Darius. “You wanna be one of the elite? You wanna get to the top? Then you do whatever the Director tells you, no questions. You best wise up, get on board. Otherwise…” Darius bent forward, laying a finger on the pistol strapped to his hip.

  “Right…” said Rhane, desperately looking off into space, very much taking the hint. “Got it.”

  Darius leaned in further, jutting his face so close to Rhane’s that he could smell the juice on his breath. Angling his head, Darius seemed to study Rhane like an animal at the zoo.

  “You are loyal to the company, aren’t you?” he growled.

  “…This job… It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Rhane answered with quiet vulnerability, avoiding Darius’s eyes. “…I’d be nothing without it.”

  “Good,” said Darius, sinking himself back into his seat.

  Rhane shook everything he’d just learned from his mind. All he wanted to do at that moment was get as far away from there as possible—he would have more than enough time to process these intense emotions back on his ship. Forcing the chipper energy back into his body, Rhane quickly sprang to his feet.

  “Welp, I should hit the sack. Big morning, you know? Glad we got a chance to talk.” Rhane carefully adjusted his jacket, readying himself to leave. “And you don’t have to worry about me, I’m in it to win it. Just point me in the direction of those thieving bastards, I’ll nail them. Just you wait.”

  “Hm,” grunted Darius.

  “See you on the Treasure.” Rhane turned to depart. He took a few steps before Darius’s voice stopped him.

  “Watch yourself, pretty boy.”

  Rhane didn’t turn around. Instead he raised a hand, giving Darius a click of his tongue and a confident salute before walking away. He wouldn’t let him see his face, wouldn’t let him know just how twisted up he was.

  All at once, he had become a killer for hire, a tool at the hands of Verloren Industries to use at their discretion. He would go where they told him, take what they told him to take, kill who they told him to kill, and in return he would be doted upon and basked in more riches and love than any one man dared dream of. It was the price to pay for greatness. Could he so easily discard that? After all, what was more important: the love of the world, his name in the history books forever, or the respect of a single thief who already hated him?

  …What was more important?