The Brightblade family study occupied the mansion's eastern wing, where morning light streamed through tall windows to illuminate oil portraits of ancestors who'd built their fortune through strategic marriages, timely investments, and the occasional well-placed sword thrust during territorial disputes. The room's mahogany furnishings and leather-bound volumes projected the sort of understated wealth that came from generations of careful cultivation.

Marcus stood before his parents' desk like a defendant awaiting judgment, his posture carrying the defensive pride of someone who knew their version of events would be scrutinized. His usual theatrical confidence had dimmed, replaced by the careful precision of someone walking through a conversation that could determine their future.

"The mission objectives were achieved," he announced, producing the official assessment with the Guild's seal affixed prominently. "Mire Drake elimination completed successfully, and the eastern bog routes are secure for merchant traffic."

Lady Cordelia examined the Guild completion forms with the sort of methodical attention that came from decades of managing family interests and reading between the lines of bureaucratic language. Her silver-streaked hair was arranged in an elegant chignon that spoke to both fashion and practicality, while her morning attire reflected her commitment to managing family business no matter the hour.

"The escort contract was also fulfilled, I presume?"

"Navarro's caravan reached its destination without losses," Marcus replied, which was accurate while avoiding several pertinent details about the journey's complications.

Lord Aldric set aside his correspondence and studied his son with the evaluative stare of someone who could spot a flaw at a hundred paces.

"Walk me through the engagement sequence," he said with quiet authority. "Start to finish. I want to understand what we're dealing with."

Marcus shifted slightly, the movement betraying discomfort that his carefully neutral expression attempted to conceal. "The bog clearance proceeded without incident. Standard search and destroy against a drake family group. Five adults, two juveniles, complete nest elimination."

"And the escort complications?" Cordelia pressed.

"We encountered an unexpected threat when the caravan attempted passage through disputed territory. Class-A magical beast, a fully mature hydra. I ordered immediate withdrawal to preserve team integrity."

The euphemistic language hung in the air like expensive perfume—pleasant on the surface but concealing something more complex underneath. Aldric's expression darkened as he recognized the tactical terminology.

"Complete withdrawal?" he asked pointedly.

"The Iron Hawks executed tactical disengagement according to established doctrine for overwhelming threats," Marcus replied, which was both accurate and entirely inadequate as an explanation.

"That answers a different question than the one I asked."

Marcus's jaw tightened. "The withdrawal was... complicated by individual action."

"Individual action," Cordelia repeated. "Whose initiative, precisely?"

"Ember chose to engage despite direct orders to retreat," Marcus admitted with obvious reluctance.

"And the outcome?"

"The threat was eliminated."

"By Ember."

"Yes."

"Alone."

"Initially, yes."

"Initially," Aldric repeated with the sort of dangerous quiet that preceded explosions. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Marcus studied the carpet's intricate patterns as if they might provide escape routes from the conversation. "It means my team returned to provide support after... reassessing the tactical situation."

"Your team returned," Cordelia said, each word carrying increasing weight, "after leaving one of our sponsored associates to face an A-rank monster alone."

"The situation was fluid," Marcus protested. "Combat decisions require split-second assessment based on available intelligence—"

"The situation was that you abandoned a young woman to die fighting a creature you couldn't handle," Aldric interrupted sharply. "Stop hiding behind tactical language and explain how that represents appropriate leadership."

"It was a no-win scenario," Marcus shot back, his defensive posture cracking under sustained pressure. "A-rank threats require coordinated response from a properly equipped A-rank team, which we are not. Tactical withdrawal was the only viable option. Individual heroics don't work against opponents of that caliber."

"Individual heroics," Cordelia observed, "seem to have worked quite well in this instance."

"She got lucky."

"Did she?"

The question carried implications that Marcus clearly wasn't prepared to address. His parents exchanged glances across their shared desk, communicating through the sorts of subtle expressions that only developed through a long partnership.

"Where is Ember now?" Cordelia asked.

"Recovering at their apartment," Marcus replied. "Minor injuries, nothing serious."

"Minor injuries," Aldric said with growing skepticism. "From fighting a hydra. Alone."

"She's... resilient."

"Resilient enough to survive an A-rank threat that forced your entire team to retreat?"

"It appears so."

"Appears so?" Cordelia repeated. "This is an unusually evasive conversation, even for you, Marcus. What aren't you telling us?"

"I wasn't present for the final engagement," he said carefully. "My report is based on secondhand accounts from team members who witnessed the conclusion."

"Secondhand accounts," Cordelia repeated. "From team members who returned to assist after you ordered tactical withdrawal."

"Yes."

"Team members who are now questioning your leadership capabilities?"

Marcus flinched as if he'd been struck. His mother's assessment hit too close to home, and they all recognized it. The study fell into the sort of uncomfortable silence that often preceded either reconciliation or another family dinner that ended abruptly.

"The Iron Hawks understand chain of command," he said stiffly.

"Understanding chain of command and respecting leadership decisions are different things," Aldric observed. "Competent soldiers follow orders because they trust their officers' judgment. When that trust erodes, so does unit cohesion."

"My team's loyalty isn't in question."

"Your team's professional assessment of your performance is definitely in question," Cordelia corrected. "Which affects our family's reputation for supporting quality leadership among our sponsored assets."

The conversation was interrupted by Henrik's discreet entrance with a gentle knock, carrying a silver salver bearing a folded envelope.

"Lady Cordelia, Magistrate Cawel has requested an urgent meeting regarding the Fractured Flame's recent mission performance. She specifically mentioned 'extraordinary magical circumstances' requiring immediate assessment."

Marcus's face went pale. "I submitted complete documentation to Guild administration—"

"The Magistrate's concerns extend beyond Guild reporting," Henrik replied, offering the salver so Lady Cordelia could examine the summons. "Her office has received accounts that suggest magical capabilities requiring formal evaluation."

Cordelia and Aldric exchanged another meaningful glance.

"Schedule the meeting for this afternoon," Cordelia instructed.

"Already arranged for three o'clock," Henrik confirmed with the sort of efficiency that came from anticipating noble whims.

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After Henrik's departure, silence settled over the study like dust from a collapsed structure. Marcus stood in the center of the room, clearly understanding that his curated version of events was about to be compared with official Magisterium analysis.

"Beatrix doesn't request meetings lightly," Cordelia observed. "Especially not on such short notice."

"This should prove illuminating," Aldric added, turning back to his son with a pointed stare. "Perhaps the Magistrate's account will fill in the gaps you've left in your report."

"Perhaps it will," Marcus conceded, unable to stop the revelation he had so obviously wanted to avoid.

The Magisterium Central Tower at three o'clock projected the sort of imposing authority that came from housing the most powerful mages in the city. Heavy wards and enchantments guarded every entrance, and the periodic flash of gold-trimmed guard uniforms against white marble reinforced a carefully maintained impression of impeccable order.

Cordelia navigated the building's complex security with casual grace, her heels clicking against polished granite floors as she made her way to Magistrate Cawel's office on the upper levels. She'd visited the magistrate's office often enough that she didn't require a guide, but Henrik's presence beside her ensured that formalities were properly observed.

"Cordelia," Beatrix greeted, gesturing for Cordelia to take a seat in a comfortable armchair facing an ornate desk.

"Beatrix," Cordelia replied, accepting the offer and arranging her skirts neatly around her legs. "You requested to meet regarding my sponsored adventurers?"

"I did," Beatrix acknowledged, her steel-grey braid hanging over her shoulder like a well-groomed serpent. "I suspect you already know why."

"I have my guesses," Cordelia admitted with a smile. "Though context would help clarify."

"You've always appreciated that magic and politics are synonymous," Beatrix began, "especially when it comes to shaping Amaranth's future. I'm sure that was one reason you sought exclusive sponsorship with the Fractured Flame."

Cordelia's smile sharpened fractionally. "I prefer quality investments that reflect our family's commitment to excellence."

"An interesting choice of phrase," Beatrix noted, "considering the reports we've received from witnesses on-site at Navarro's caravan."

Cordelia's expression cooled slightly. "Witnesses with an agenda against my sponsored associates, I'm certain."

"Witnesses with an agenda, yes," Beatrix confirmed. "And witnesses with remarkably consistent accounts of the hydra engagement. Accounts that go far beyond your son's descriptions in the official report."

"A mission report can only capture so much."

"And what did you capture from Marcus's retelling of this event?"

"Were we not being candid," Cordelia replied, "I might suggest his report captured admirable tactical judgment in the face of overwhelming odds."

"And if we were being candid?"

"I might suggest that Marcus's account was... sanitized."

"Sanitized is a delicate word," Beatrix observed, shuffling parchment until she retrieved the forms she sought. "The reports we've received from Navarro's guards indicate that your Ember managed to slay the hydra in a conflagration described by one guard as, and I quote, 'an apocalypse of fire and fury that left nothing but scorched earth.'"

Cordelia's lips quirked upwards. "That paints a vivid picture."

"It certainly does," Beatrix agreed, tapping the parchment decisively. "It should have, by all indications, resulted in Ember's death. Your son's report confirmed her demise, as well as his own subsequent regret at her loss."

Cordelia's composure faltered for the first time in the conversation. "I beg your pardon?"

"Marcus filed a casualty report two days ago," Beatrix continued, producing an official Guild document bearing the Brightblade family seal. "Complete with witness statements from his team confirming Ember's death during the hydra engagement."

"That's impossible," Cordelia said, her political training warring with genuine confusion. "Ember is alive and well. She's recovering at their apartment as we speak."

Beatrix's hand stilled on the parchment. "Recovering?"

"Minor injuries, nothing serious. Marcus assured me—" Cordelia stopped, realization dawning across her features like sunrise over a battlefield. "What exactly did Marcus report to you?"

"That Ember died fighting the hydra, and that her death was witnessed by his entire team," Beatrix replied, her steel-grey eyes boring into Cordelia's. "Yet I've had my sources confirm Ember's presence in the city this morning."

Cordelia pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply as she processed the implications.

"That dishonest little rat," she murmured. "No, no... that arrogant, over-reaching, self-centered man-child."

Beatrix watched with a mixture of schadenfreude and curiosity. "Does something about this scenario strike a nerve?"

"My son has... glossed over certain details in his report," Cordelia admitted, her tone shifting between anger and reluctant pride. "He informed us that Ember took part in the hydra engagement, that she suffered minor injuries, and that the Iron Hawks eventually provided tactical assistance with cleanup after the creature was dispatched."

"I detect an emerging gap between those statements and the actual events."

"Such a gap is becoming increasingly apparent, yes."

Beatrix leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers beneath her chin. "No magical ability or artifact yet discovered can resurrect the dead. And yet Ember has apparently returned from beyond the veil... or perhaps cheated it entirely."

Cordelia's expression tightened. "Beatrix..."

"Leave your political calculations out of this. This goes far beyond your family's games of influence. Whatever the nature of your Fractured Flame's magical capabilities, they demand immediate investigation."

"I'm not disputing that," Cordelia replied.

The steel-haired mage arched an eyebrow. "Yet you still look as though you're weighing political outcomes."

"I'm considering the most prudent course of action, yes."

"The prudent course of action is to provide my department with full access to your sponsored adventurers for immediate, official evaluation."

"What specifically entails this 'official evaluation'?"

"The Magisterium's authority on magical assessment is absolute," Beatrix reminded her. "Under most circumstances, such assessment would begin with a team of experienced mages conducting interviews and taking detailed histories, with an eye toward establishing a baseline for how the registered magic user—or in this case, magic users—practice magic."

"And if Ember and her sisters decline your generous invitation for investigation?"

"They could hardly refuse the Magisterium's authority," Beatrix said dryly.

"Let me rephrase," Cordelia said, leaning forward. "What precisely do you intend to do if they prove unwilling to subject themselves to the tender mercies of your officials?"

Beatrix met her gaze and held it. "We both know how the Magisterium conducts its business. We've worked together too long for you to pretend otherwise."

"I'm not pretending anything, Beatrix. I'm asking a simple question that you're dodging more skillfully than a cutpurse evading arrest. What happens if they decline your most generous offer of assistance?"

"They would find the experience unpleasant," Beatrix replied.

"They're adventurers," Cordelia countered. "Unpleasant is their daily bread."

"They've also gained a reputation for heroism and public service. Such reputations are delicate things in Amaranth. If they decline a request from the Magisterium's ranking Magistrate, their reputations are bound to suffer."

"My concern isn't for their reputations. It's for their futures."

"You may not have much room for concern," Beatrix pointed out. "If your son filed a casualty report in bad faith..."

Cordelia's expression darkened further. "I'll handle Marcus."

"I'm sure you will," Beatrix agreed. "That's why I'm handling Ember and her sisters. They've demonstrated... unique magical capabilities that must be thoroughly researched under the Magisterium's direct supervision. I've had my eye on them for some time, but this latest revelation has solidified my position."

"What position is that, precisely?"

"That they might not be entirely human," Beatrix said, holding Cordelia's gaze with the steady assurance of someone playing her final card.

Cordelia stiffened, her composure cracking visibly. "That's an extraordinary accusation."

"Accusation? How uninspired. I'd call it an enlightened insight that opens a host of avenues for evaluation. Why do you think I requested this meeting through proper channels instead of dispatching a squad of guards to their doorstep?"

"Because you wanted to drag me into this mess."

"That, too," Beatrix agreed. "And because of your fondness for your assets."

"Fondness," Cordelia mused.

"You can stop your amateur dramatics," Beatrix said flatly. "You wouldn't have gone to such absurd lengths to acquire exclusive sponsorship rights to the Fractured Flame if you had no personal interest. Only a fool would pursue them that aggressively if pure calculation were driving your hand."

"A fool," Cordelia repeated, a wry smile twitching at her lips. "I prefer to think of myself as someone willing to take unusual chances for exceptional returns."

"Are you trying to distract me with fancy rhetoric?"

"Certainly not."

"Good," Beatrix said sharply. "Then have your son deliver Ember and her sisters for official evaluation."

"When?" Cordelia asked with a sigh.

"Tomorrow."

"That's rather soon."

"That's the idea," Beatrix said, gathering the documents and returning them to their respective files. "When magic is involved, the Magisterium acts with authority and alacrity. You have until tomorrow at dusk to deliver the Fractured Flame to my office. If you fail, my guards will locate and detain them for assessment."

"You realize that they could just flee the city," Cordelia pointed out. "You're providing ample motivation to avoid Amaranth."

"I'm confident you'll find some way to convince them of your good intentions," Beatrix replied. "And if they do flee, then it's on your family's honor to track them down. Your name is on those sponsorship documents, Cordelia. If Ember and her sisters escape your custody, then you're responsible for their actions."

"Responsible for the actions of five young women?"

"They're either citizens under your guardianship or non-human entities subject to evaluation," Beatrix countered. "Either way, you're liable for whatever chaos they create."

Cordelia let out another long sigh. "Sometimes I forget how utterly merciless you can be."

"It's one reason our professional association has been so mutually beneficial." Beatrix gestured towards the door. "Now off with you. You have much to discuss with your son and your ward."

Cordelia rose slowly, smoothing the fabric of her gown and settling her own braid against her back. "There is a reason that I prefer to deal with you privately, Beatrix. You're far more ruthless in official settings."

"The Magisterium demands adherence to the rule of law," Beatrix agreed, glancing toward the exit. "Especially when dealing with extraordinary magical circumstances."

"Extraordinary," Cordelia repeated.

"As we've established," Beatrix said dryly.

With a rueful smile, Cordelia slipped through the door, emerging into the austere halls of the Central Tower's administrative wing.

"This could present logistical challenges," Henrik observed calmly.

"It could," Cordelia agreed, clicking her way down the marble floors towards the exit. "Fetch Aldric from his meeting. It seems our entire family is about to become more intimately involved in the lives of the Fractured Flame than any of us expected."

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