Alonso had barely turned a corner when he found Virgilia leaning against a pillar, a flicker of a smile beneath her hood.
"Well, you sure left quite the impression, Maestro," she sent him in a private pulse, her tone clearly amused. "To showcase mastery of Anima Velata in front of the high society of Venettia… I don't even know whether that was careless or a stroke of brilliance."
Alonso frowned, completely unfamiliar with the term. "Houston?"
"Veiled Soul… nothing in any database."
"I see," Alonso replied to Virgilia. "And may I ask the reasoning behind that assessment?"
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head with a quiet chuckle, pushing off the pillar and walking at a cadence that suggested he follow.
"Well, for all it's worth… no Sovereign looking to lay low would walk into the heart of The City of Masks and casually demonstrate Anima Velata in front of so many eyes. So it may well have been, as I said, a genius play on your part, Darius Ardighieri." A smile. "I will not, for your sake, ever ask whether it was intentional."
Alonso remained silent. Was that truly such a significant display? Will and intent, layered together… he had wanted to give his new identity some weight, and the teaching-how-to-kill setting had felt like it called for something that blended deception and Will naturally. A nice touch, he had thought.
It was becoming increasingly clear that his definition of 'casual' and Venettia's were not operating on the same scale.
"You might want to prepare yourself though," Virgilia continued. "I suspect it is a matter of minutes before you become the hottest topic in the city, with riches, beauties, and considerably more lining up at your door."
She chuckled again. "After all… you just announced to everyone that you are one of the finest assassins of The Black Mantle, master of the most feared technique in the world, with one of the most influential men in Venettia as your father, and all while apparently being a young handsome bachelor. That’s really hard to top."
It was at that moment that Alonso completely realised: he had messed up.
He cursed inwardly. Well… nothing he could do about it now. Whatever came of it, he would treat it as another variable of the stage and work with it.
"Not the most appealing prospects… but how would that affect my position in The Black Mantle?"
"I would like to say it won't change the plans much, and honestly it may even help ground your new persona," Virgilia continued. "However, it is highly likely you will be receiving a very long list of incredibly appealing directed contracts in the near future. And when I say appealing…" she glanced at him sideways, "...I mean you could bathe in gold within a week, and all it would cost you is attending a few fancy balls, wearing a mask, and making a good impression on people hoping it tags them into the 'please don't accept a contract to kill me' category... doing their best to get you engaged, or at the very least into a casual affair with the prettiest lady their family has to offer."
Alonso couldn't help but release a long sigh. At the very least, on the bright side, Ayu wasn't here. Not that he had any intention of entertaining any of what Virgilia had just described... but Ayu had a particular way of making her opinion known on certain topics that tended to leave… structural damage.
"Well, now that you have your cover sorted, let's get you assigned to your night job," Virgilia smiled.
A moment later, before Alonso could respond, she sent him detailed schematics of what was clearly a visual projection system, a layered EM construct designed to cast another person's appearance over his own.
Alonso frowned, processed it quickly, and had the basics down in an instant.
A moment later he clocked several figures moving casually ahead of them, and two that looked similar to them from behind.
As they turned the next corner, a signal from Virgilia, and the two behind stepped smoothly into their place, their appearances shifting into a perfect match as Alonso and Virgilia folded into a nearby group, now looking like entirely different people, dressed and carrying themselves like students with nowhere urgent to be.
The process repeated. Appearances changed, groups shifted, casual conversations with what were clearly staged actors wove them through the Academy's corridors and out into the city beyond, each exchange another layer of distance between them and whoever might be watching.
A few minutes later, Alonso found himself seated on a gondola as a snobbish old man with an unreasonably long nose, the canal moving quietly beneath them.
Across from him, Virgilia had become what could very well be his spoiled granddaughter, long blonde hair and blue eyes, idly turning a flower between her fingers... a flower that was nothing more than a clean EM projection, its petals catching the afternoon light with practiced convincingness.
"So, Darius…" she sent through a private pulse, her projected fingers still fidgeting with the false flower, "how are you finding Venettia?"
"Honestly impressed," he replied, his gaze wandering to the surroundings, taking in the quiet flow of the canal as the helmsman steered with unhurried precision. A pace that made it clear this was never meant as a form of transport... but purely for the pleasure of the scenery, and the appearance of having nowhere pressing to be, and enough coins to spend.
A comfortable silence passed as the gondola drifted under a bridge.
A moment later both of them were inside what Alonso could only describe as a fancy floating carriage without horses, propelled entirely by the steady EM waves of its driver. The canal slid past the window in long smooth reflections of terracotta and pale stone, the gondola continuing its slow journey now carrying two passengers identical to their earlier projections.
Alonso’s appearance had shifted again. A fashionably dressed young man with very meticulously arranged hair.
"By the way," he sent through another pulse, elbow resting on the window as his eyes swept the outside with interest, "you mentioned everyone would know I am from The Black Mantle after the display... I take it the Academy's connection to the organisation is common knowledge?"
"Absolutely," Virgilia answered with a smile. "The Black Mantle keeps to the shadows by preference, not necessity. We are a neutral power, and one more than capable of backing that neutrality with something considerably more persuasive than words. Those with the means and the coin know where to find us... and L'Accademia de l'Arte Letale is perhaps one of our most elegant doors."
The carriage slowed to a stop beside one of the wider canals, the dark water catching the last of the afternoon light in shifting reflections.
They stepped onto a stone embankment lined with iron lanterns already beginning to glow, the facades opposite sharpening as the shadows deepened. Gondolas drifted past in silence, their canopies lit from within by warm EM filaments that pulsed with the water beneath them.
Alonso and Virgilia walked side by side, perfectly carrying that distinct Venettian noble air.
"By the way, I got probed by one of the Maestros at the Academy, Marcello. Who do you reckon he's working for? The Way?"
"Unlikely, but a possibility amongst countless," Virgilia said, her eyes ahead, a faint smile on her face. "As one of the wealthiest cities in the world, Venettia is full of powers vying to make a profit... or a point. A Maestro at the Academy could answer to any of them. Powerful nobles, rich merchant houses, other organisations, and yes, The Way among them. If I were you I wouldn't lose sleep over it." She glanced at him briefly. "Wherever you go, there will always be eyes trying to track your every step."
She turned just as what appeared to be a butler materialised at the entrance of a tall, central townhouse. He bowed to them both without a word and opened the door.
Alonso followed her in.
They moved through salons where people gathered in small clusters, conversations low, drinks exchanged, laughter brief and controlled.
He followed Virgilia's lead, matching her cadence through each room, trading pleasantries with faces he would not remember and that would not remember him, until after a particular sequence of turns through progressively quieter rooms, a bookshelf along one wall shifted smoothly aside as Virgilia's fingers found the right spine and applied the right pressure.
The passage beyond was dark and narrow, torches set at intervals along the stone walls throwing uneven amber light that moved with the air disturbed by their passage.
Alonso extended his perception carefully and found almost nothing returning... the walls absorbed his waves with clean indifference.
And yet he had the constant, unshakeable impression of being watched, even if he couldn't quite point from where.
They passed through a final gate that opened before Virgilia, the two of them deactivating their EM cloaks as they stepped through, their appearances settling back into their own... or well, Darius for him.
Ahead, the passage opened into a low vaulted space sparsely lit, the air carrying the faint smell of good wine and old stone. Tables occupied the floor in loose arrangement, figures seated at most of them in varying degrees of shadow, all cloaked with sharp eyes, conversations running through private pulses as not a single word echoed aloud.
Behind a broad dark counter at the far end, a man who had clearly been born for exactly that position stood wiping a glass that honestly didn't need any more cleaning.
Virgilia approached without breaking stride, exchanging a rapid series of pulses with the bartender. Alonso kept his attention forward and his perception to himself, which felt like the appropriate call.
The bartender's eyes slid to him once, narrow and assessing. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him. A single nod, a hand below the counter, and a token landed on the wood between them.
Alonso picked it up. Dense, dark metal, its surface carrying engraving so fine it was barely visible until the light caught it, at which point it resolved into layered geometric work of considerable complexity.
He pocketed it and followed Virgilia toward the back.
They stood before a brick wall in silence. A moment later Alonso felt his token pulse from his pocket as something scanned it, and the wall responded immediately, each brick withdrawing and rotating in sequence, the whole thing disassembling and recombining over a few seconds until a clean archway stood where solid stone had been.
And beyond it… what he could only describe as an underground black market in all its splendour.
"Welcome to Il Mercato dell'Ombra," Virgilia said simply. "You will find yourself here frequently, so do try to get familiar with it."
Alonso nodded, his senses taking in the surroundings.
Where the city above blazed with colour and display, down here everything ran quieter and considerably more reserved. The traffic was steady rather than dense, almost everyone in hoods, masks, or projections that deflected casual probing. Nobody looked at anyone longer than necessary, and nobody seemed to mind.
He let his eyes move across the storefronts lining both sides of the main thoroughfare.
Bottega degli Orbi — orbs stacked in ordered rows behind glass, sorted by tiers, a hooded merchant behind the counter cataloguing a fresh delivery without looking up. Next to it, Armi e Reliquie Oscure, a place where Grade 4 pieces were the lowest on display, and advertised in a clear reinforced capsule, two Grade 6 daggers floated slowly, catching the light with every rotation.
Further along, L'Arsenale dell'Ignoto, odd trinkets and man-made devices of purposes he couldn't immediately place, their labels written in shorthand that assumed the buyer already knew what they were looking for.
Then the alchemical quarter, three stores running back to back, roots and compounds and ingredients with no name he recognised arranged by potency behind sealed glass, their containers labelled in a script so precise it bordered on academic.
And then, occupying an entire storefront on its own, La Casa del Veleno Eterno. A sizeable building dedicated entirely to what appeared to be a single type of poison.
Virgilia kept moving, and Alonso followed, the two of them threading deeper into the market until the main thoroughfare opened into a wide plaza of dark stone.
At the far end of it, framed between two broad columns of carved black marble, stood a building that made no attempt whatsoever to conceal its importance. Grand and severe, its facade running the full width of the plaza's end, every surface worked with the same extraordinary attention as the Academy above, though where the Academy favoured elegance, this carried a certain… presence that spoke of its nature.
Above the entrance, carved deep into the lintel in lettering that expected to be read from a distance:
La Cancelleria dell'Ombra
They walked through the entrance.
Inside, past a grand corridor that narrowed into something considerably more functional, a clerk sat behind a narrow counter surrounded by shelves of ordered ledgers climbing to the ceiling. He did not look up as they entered.
Virgilia produced a scroll from her coat, its surface carrying both formal wording and a distinct EM signature, and placed it on the counter.
It floated to the clerk without being touched.
He held it for a moment, eyes moving across it with the practiced speed of someone who read documents of this kind daily and found none of them surprising. Then, without missing a beat, he drew a token from the drawer beside him and held it steady between two fingers as focused pulses moved across its surface, the inscription forming clean and precise in a matter of seconds.
He set it on the counter.
Virgilia smiled as she picked it up and handed it to Alonso.
He turned it over in his fingers, studying it.
The format was not entirely unlike his Adventurer Guild token, but the resemblance ended there… like a luxury product beside its cheap imitation.
The Black Mantle
[Phantom]
Darius Ardighieri
It already carried his unique EM signature… or rather, the fabricated one projected through the mask, accepted and recorded as real without question. However, unlike the Adventurer token that anyone could simply read, this one remained completely concealed, emitting his signature only when he willed it.
He probed it further and found something else beneath the surface. An encrypted communication layer, memory storage, a receiving channel that could accept messages while giving away nothing.
A one-way mobile phone, essentially, dressed in the aesthetics of a Renaissance assassin organisation.
"Phantom... is that a rank?" he asked as they moved through into an adjoining chamber.
"Yes," Virgilia said. "From bottom to... just read it yourself."
A pulse arrived a moment later, clean and structured.
Acolyte — Fourth State, foundational. Equivalent to Gold-rank Adventurers.
Phantom — Fourth State, peak. Equivalent to Mithril-rank Adventurers and Holy Knights.
Specter — Fifth State, foundational. Equivalent to Adamantite-rank Adventurers and Elite Holy Knights.
Reaper — Fifth State, peak. No Adventurer equivalent. Comparable to Holy Knight Commanders and Cardinals.
Sovereign — Domain realm. Comparable to the Seven Saints of The Way.
Alonso read through it. The first thing he noticed was how high the standards were. The weakest official member of The Black Mantle, carrying the mildly embarrassing title of Acolyte, was comparable to a rank that could land you a Guild Master position amongst the Adventurers.
The second was that he finally had a clearer sense of the power structure among the elites of this world, and why The Black Mantle and The Way stood at the top of it.
The third was that he was now officially compared to peak Fourth State existences like the Holy Knight. Though with the new gear and his recent improvement in Will control, he felt it was quite appropriate.
"So, what rank are you? Am I like your subordinate or something now?" he asked Virgilia as they walked.
A faint smile crossed her face. "I am your guide, Darius... that and only that." Her crimson eyes slid briefly to him. "And just for further reference, avoid asking questions about myself... I don't like lying."
Alonso held that for a moment, then decided to leave it there for now.
They moved into another room where Virgilia outlined the process for accepting public contracts, and the expectation of completing at least one every two weeks to maintain his current rank. Directed contracts, she added, would arrive through his token directly.
"Any more questions?"
"A few."
Several pulses hit his mind in quick succession.
Maps, complex underground networks, more than a dozen entrances to the market scattered across Venettia. A note that he no longer needed temporary tokens from providers, the passages opening directly to his official one from here on. Legends, contacts, services, costs, reward collection, rank progression... a considerable amount of operational detail, comprehensive enough to suggest it had been prepared well in advance.
Alonso processed it all and looked up.
"Now?"
He shook his head. "So that's it? Complete freedom, climb the ranks at my own pace, take the contracts I want?"
"Correct," Virgilia said, already walking away, one hand raised briefly in farewell. "The shadows have a way of revealing what the light cannot... walk them well, Darius." A pause, barely a breath. "I will be waiting."
And then she was gone, the shadows simply closing around her as though she had always been part of them.
Alonso stared at the space she had left for a moment, then looked down at the token in his hand.
"Phantom, huh."