A City Core was a true wonder of mana, the backbone of the entire cosmos. The construct, if well-tended, could produce wonders the likes of which no one currently on Decorra had seen or thought to dream of. Miracles of healing, of science blending with magic to push both to new heights, cultivation opportunities for all the myriad paths someone might walk.

All that, and the first building Laurel had been forced to create for her City was a Prison. Long and low, the designated building had been unremarkable before being uplifted, and the outer appearance hadn't changed. Inside was a different story.

The Core, reinforcing the existing structures, had created rooms that could hold any being below a Master in power. Anyone placed in the rooms would find their cultivation suppressed, their internal mana sluggish and unresponsive. In the unlikely event they could do anything with it, the walls would absorb the energy, pulling the techniques apart until nothing was left. If the prisoner then decided to rely on a cultivator's enhanced body to punch their way out, they would run into mana-strengthened stone and steel. Such fools were more likely to break themselves before leaving a scratch on the building.

It was a truth that left a bitter taste in Laurel's mouth that the Council's insistence had proved prophetic. Now it played host to its fourth-ever guest, currently meditating in the cell furthest from the door.

"Anything happen?" Laurel asked the guards on duty as she stepped inside.

"No ma'am."

They impressed her, these mortals, they always did. While Laurel had learned the hard way that an unprepared cultivator was still susceptible to gunfire, standing guard over someone they knew was more powerful than them deserved respect.

Further down, she found the entire council, and another set of guards. It was going to be a cramped meeting if everyone insisted on joining. Reading her mind, or perhaps just waiting for Laurel to arrive, Curson sent the guards to go wait at the entrance with the others.

"Tell us again how you found him, if you would, Sectmaster." The king was in his full-royal mode. On the rare days he was feeling less formal, it would be Laurel or Madame Stormblade.

"I felt his mana signature, and didn't recognize it. Combined with the location, it was obviously not a friendly prank."

"And do you have any suggestions?" Mansfeln looked ready to beat any answers out of their would-be assassin himself.

"The Prison itself compels truthfulness, to an extent. Lying while your cultivation is suppressed is almost impossible. But it can't force someone to speak if they don't want to."

"There's little point in guessing until we know what we're working with," King Edward cut in. "General Skycrest, if you would."

The whole group approached the cell, giving Laurel her first look at their prisoner since the previous night. He was in a classical meditation pose, breathing evenly. The others probably didn't even notice the little shudders in his breath, betraying the nerves underlying the calm face.

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"Hi there, do you know who I am?" The tone Ridge chose would have been at home speaking to a lost child.

"I have a message for Laurel Stormblade, of the Eternal Archive." His eyes snapped open, blazing with the fire of the true believer. A zealot. Great. Though Laurel supposed it made a certain kind of sense. You didn't send the person who might defect on the suicide mission.

"Yes?" she drawled.

"The masters of the Order of Decorra send this message: Give up. You have neither the skill nor the resources necessary to win. Join the Order and your sect members and yourself will be given a place when we move into the wider cosmos. Fail to do so, and watch all that you've worked for shatter."

Silence rang through the small prison.

"Is that it?"

For the first time since their arrival, the confident facade of their prisoner broke. Now he looked like what he was, a confused child in so far over his head he couldn't see the sky if he tried.

"I have completed my mission." His voice was shaking now. "I will accept whatever comes next."

"Oh fuck off with your sniveling obedience, we aren't executing you, you stupid child." Laurel stormed back down the hall and waited a few moments for the others to finish their initial questions and join her.

"Do we think this guy knows anything?" Ridge asked when the council was once more huddled together out of earshot of both the prisoner and the guards.

Laurel scoffed. "I think he's the idiot they convinced to sneak into the palace and hide, and gave him a message to deliver because they knew he'd fail."

"It doesn't matter. How'd he get that close in the first place?" Mansfeln barked.

"Shadow aspect and patience, most likely." Laurel wanted to pace but was hemmed in by the crowded hallway.

"And? If this was an assassination attempt, where would we be right now?"

"Probably in this exact same place, but with some useful information. You all still have your shields, yes?"

Laurel made eye contact with each member, who nodded or tapped the personal defensive items Devon had made after returning from retrieving his sect's Legacy Stone. Each disk was enchanted to the limits of what the metal could hold, all focused on defense. It would take a stronger cultivator than the one currently in custody to break through faster than assistance could come.

"There you have it. The wards on the private wings of the palace would have kept him out. Probably why he was lurking in the gardens in the first place."

"We need to do something about this. He's stronger than most of the cultivators in the city, right?"

Laurel tilted her hand side to side. "Stronger than most that have been cultivating for less than, say five-ish years. There are at least a handful of people in the city right now, excluding myself, that could overpower him with their cultivation alone."

"Do you have any way we can track cultivators in the city? Without first tracking you down and using the Core, that is?" Theresa's calm voice redirected the conversation.

Looking over at Curson, Laurel thought they were thinking the same thing. "There's a feature we could add to the Administration Office. Takes a lot of mana though, I think we were planning on adding a Hospital first."

All eyes turned towards the king. "Do it, push the healing building later. For now security is more important.

"I'd like to keep this quiet for now, so no announcements about an enemy magician in the city. We all know where we're heading, but the longer we have to build up our own magic defenses, and offense, for that matter, the better."

A round of agreements from the council put an end to that discussion.

"What now?" Ridge asked. "Do we keep him here? Ship him back? Try to make him flip?"

"Keep him here. Ridge you take the lead on the interrogation, see what you can get out of him. Worst case we might need him for a prisoner exchange later."

Without much more to talk about, Laurel took her leave. Not the most auspicious way to start the year. Walking along the quiet street, she looked up, letting the first flakes of snow drifting down from the angry clouds melt on her cheeks.

Inauspicious, yes, but part of her was excited anyway. The part that had charged into battle more than once with no expectation of winning. The piece of herself she had carefully pushed down in order to better serve as Sectmaster. Change, conflict, these things meant growth for a cultivator, and she was so close to evolving her mana aspect. If it took hunting down a few assassins to make that happen, she would do it with a smile.

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