"The password is silence, young lord. Speak it wrong, and you'll never speak again."
The hooded guide's words hung in the midnight air.
Caelan stood at what looked like an abandoned mine entrance.
The past three days had been busy – studying Elias Verne's journals and learning from Aldric about the criminal world he once belonged to.
Caelan understood right away.
The real password was to say nothing at all. He kept quiet, his face hidden behind the mask Aldric had made – a simple black covering with subtle raven designs.
The guide studied him, then nodded with approval.
"Smart. Most newcomers start talking when they get nervous."
He pointed to the dark opening.
"Follow the blue lights. Don't touch anything unless it touches you first. You can bring weapons, but using them means death."
Wrapped in his Shadow Cloak, Caelan stepped into the mine shaft.
His body was still weak despite his daily training, but tonight no one would see that weakness.
They would see only the mysterious "Raven's Ghost", whose reputation had grown since the attack at Blackthorn Keep.
As promised, faint blue lights appeared along the tunnel walls, leading downward.
The path twisted deeper, the air growing cooler but strangely fresh.
Magic at work, Caelan thought, remembering Aldric's description of how the Bazaar operated.
"They change locations every time," Aldric had explained.
"They use caves, abandoned temples, old crypts. Magic hides them from detection, and guards handle security."
After walking for about ten minutes, the tunnel opened into a vast underground cavern. Caelan paused, letting his eyes adjust to the strange sight before him.
The Shrouded Bazaar.
Hundreds of blue lanterns lit the space, showing dozens of stalls and meeting areas.
People moved through the shadows – nobles wearing expensive masks, leather-clad assassins, hooded mages examining rare items, and information brokers sitting with clients.
No one looked directly at anyone else unless doing business. Privacy was clearly valued here.
But what caught Caelan's attention most wasn't the goods or the people – it was how the guards moved.
They patrolled silently, positioned at key points with clear views of everything.
Their hands rested near their weapons, weight perfectly balanced on the balls of their feet, ready to act instantly.
One guard noticed Caelan watching and shifted position slightly, adjusting for better coverage.
These movements sent a chill down Caelan's spine.
They weren't medieval fighting stances – they were modern combat positions.
The same techniques Marcus Chen had learned in special forces training before becoming an assassin.
It seemed impossible.
Yet there it was.
Caelan moved deeper into the cavern, senses alert.
If the guards' techniques were familiar, what else might he recognise?
What other modern knowledge might exist in this medieval world?
He moved through the crowd carefully, walking like someone dangerous rather than with the hesitant steps his weak body wanted to take.
Around him, whispered conversations stopped as he passed, replaced by curious stares. The Shadow Cloak seemed to absorb the blue light, making him appear more shadow than man.
"The Raven's Ghost, I presume?" A soft voice came from his left.
Caelan turned to find a slender woman sitting at a small table.
Her face was hidden behind an intricate silver mask, but her posture showed authority.
On the table lay a single playing card – the jack of spades, with a raven drawn over the original design.
"I received an invitation," Caelan replied quietly.
"Indeed, you did. From me."
She gestured to the empty chair across from her.
"Please, sit. Your reputation has spread quickly for someone so... new to our world."
Caelan sat down, noticing how the surrounding tables had emptied, creating a private space around them.
"You know who I am?"
"I know what you've done," she corrected.
"Blackthorn Keep was impressive. Sixteen dead, including Brock the Butcher, with no witnesses except one terrified messenger boy babbling about shadows coming alive."
She tilted her head slightly.
"What interests me is how a nobleman supposedly near death accomplished such a feat."
"Perhaps I wasn't alone," Caelan suggested.
"Perhaps," she agreed, though her tone suggested doubt.
"But my sources tell me no mercenaries or assassins were hired. And the techniques used..."
She leaned forward slightly.
"They were distinctive. Efficient. Unlike anything typically seen in Velderra."
Caelan felt a warning prickle. This woman knew too much, observed too carefully.
"You seem well-informed about killing techniques."
"Information is my speciality," she replied.
"Some call me the Spider."
Aldric's contact. The one he'd sought out after revealing his past.
"I understand you're in an... unusual position," the Spider continued.
"House Fenn pressing from one side, the crown from another, and whispers of darker forces taking interest in House Albrecht's sudden resurgence."
"You know much for someone who's never met me before."
"Webs catch many things, Lord Albrecht. Including Magister Corvell's movements after visiting your manor. Including messages between House Fenn and certain elements of the Eclipsed Order."
She placed another card on the table – the queen of diamonds, marked with a half-eclipse symbol.
"You've made powerful enemies quickly."
Caelan considered his response carefully.
"I didn't choose these enemies. They chose me."
"Indeed. But now you seek weapons against them, or you wouldn't be here."
She gestured around the cavern.
"The Bazaar offers many things to those with the right payment."
"What would you suggest?"
Caelan asked, testing how much she truly knew.
"For an ordinary noble, I'd recommend poison or a hired blade."
Her fingers tapped lightly on the table.
"For you?
Something different. You already possess killing skills. What you lack is information and certain... specialised materials."
As she spoke, Caelan noticed movement across the cavern – a tall figure moving through the crowd with unusual grace.
Unlike the awkward walk of nobles or the predatory stalking of assassins, this person moved with perfect economy of motion.
Each step precisely placed, weight distributed with mathematical precision.
Military training. Not medieval formations, but modern combat movement.
The same recognition that had struck Caelan when watching the guards hit him again, stronger this time.
The Spider followed his gaze.
"Interesting choice of focus. That one arrived recently. Calls himself the Cipher.
No known allegiance, but his services don't come cheap."
Caelan returned his attention to the Spider, but kept the stranger in his peripheral vision.
"You mentioned specialised materials."
"Indeed. House Fenn's tribute deadline approaches, and the royal conclave soon after. You need leverage, not just weapons."
She produced a small leather folder from beneath the table.
"This contains detailed information on Vaeron Fenn's movements, weaknesses, and secrets – including evidence of his connection to the Eclipsed Order."
"Why would you offer this to me?"
"Balance," she said simply.
"The Spider prefers that no single power grows too dominant. House Fenn's recent expansions have... disrupted certain arrangements. A resurgent House Albrecht creates useful tension."
"And the price?"
"Two things. First, gold, though less than Fenn demands."
She named a sum that, while substantial, was within Caelan's limited means if he sold some remaining Albrecht heirlooms.
"Second, a future favour, to be determined."
Marcus Chen's instincts warned against the open-ended nature of the second payment, but Caelan nodded slowly.
"Acceptable, provided the favour doesn't compromise House Albrecht's interests."
"Agreed."
The Spider seemed pleased.
"There's something else you might find valuable. A merchant near the eastern wall sells components for certain... specialised arts. Nullcraft ingredients are rare, but he has acquired several."
Caelan kept his expression neutral despite his surprise. "Nullcraft is an obscure discipline."
"Yet one you've been practising," she countered.
"The Spider sees many things, Lord Albrecht."
Their conversation was interrupted by a disturbance rippling through the Bazaar. Near the main entrance, several guards surrounded a young nobleman who had broken some rule.
The confrontation ended quickly and quietly – the offender was escorted out efficiently.
"The Bazaar has strict protocols," the Spider explained.
"The punishment for breaking them is permanent."
Caelan took the leather folder, hiding it within his cloak.
"I'll arrange payment through the usual channels."
"Excellent."
She rose gracefully.
"One last piece of advice, freely given. You're being watched tonight by more than just me. The Whisper is taking an interest in your presence."
"The Whisper?"
"The overseer of the Bazaar. Few have seen their true face. Those who have don't speak of it – can't speak of it, some say."
She inclined her head slightly.
"Move carefully, Raven's Ghost. Even ghosts can be caught in the right web."
As the Spider departed, Caelan made his way toward the eastern wall where the Nullcraft merchant supposedly operated.
The cavern seemed to shift around him, paths appearing and disappearing as people moved through the space.
He found the merchant – a hunched figure with hands stained black from handling strange components – and spent nearly an hour selecting rare materials described in the ancient texts.
Shadow essence distilled into liquid form. Crystallised void fragments. Herbs that grew only in places touched by both sunlight and moonlight simultaneously.
Throughout his transaction, Caelan remained aware of the tall stranger – the Cipher – moving gradually closer through the crowd.
Not approaching directly, but circling nearer with each passing minute.
When Caelan finished with the merchant and turned to leave, he found his path blocked by a cloaked figure unlike any other in the Bazaar.
Where others wore masks of leather or metal, this person's face was hidden behind what appeared to be a constantly shifting shadow.
"The Raven returns to the nest," the figure said, voice neither male nor female but something in between, as though multiple people spoke in perfect unison.
"Interesting."
Instinctively, Caelan knew he faced the Whisper.
"I was invited."
"By one who recognised potential. As do I."
The shifting shadows concealing the Whisper's face seemed to peer directly into Caelan's soul.
"You move differently from others. Your methods at Blackthorn Keep... distinctive."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Of course not."
The Whisper made a gesture that somehow conveyed amusement despite being nothing more than a simple hand movement.
"The Bazaar welcomes those with unique skills. Should you wish to offer yours more broadly, arrangements could be made."
"My obligations are to House Albrecht," Caelan replied carefully.
"For now."
The Whisper stepped aside.
"Until circumstances change."
As Caelan moved past, the Whisper added, "Watch the Cipher carefully. Similar yet different. A mirror with unexpected reflections."
Before Caelan could respond, the Whisper had vanished into the crowd as though they had never been there at all.
Caelan made his way toward the exit, the leather folder secure inside his cloak, the Nullcraft components carefully wrapped and stored in the pouches Aldric had prepared.
His mission accomplished, he needed to return to Albrecht Manor before dawn revealed his absence.
He had nearly reached the tunnel when a smooth voice spoke just behind his left shoulder.
"Your stance is interesting."
Caelan turned to find the Cipher standing there, tall and imposing despite the simple black mask covering the upper half of his face.
"As is yours," Caelan replied cautiously.
The Cipher's head tilted slightly, studying Caelan with unnerving intensity.
"The way you distribute your weight. The angle of your shoulders when anticipating movement. The precise placement of your feet."
He paused, then asked the question Caelan had been dreading:
"Where did you train?"
Not "who trained you" or "what style do you practice" – questions that would make sense in this medieval world.
Instead, the phrasing echoed military terminology from a world that shouldn't exist here.
Before Caelan could formulate a response, a commotion erupted near the central area of the Bazaar. Several guards moved quickly toward the disturbance, drawing the Cipher's attention.
"Another time, perhaps," the tall stranger said, stepping away.
"We have much to discuss, I think. More than either of us can safely speak of here."
As the Cipher disappeared into the crowd, Caelan felt a chill run down his spine.
The implication was clear: here was someone else who might understand his impossible situation.
Someone else who recognized techniques that shouldn't exist in this world.
Another transmigrator?
A fellow soul brought from modern Earth to this medieval realm of magic and shadow?
Or something else entirely – a trap designed to lure him into revealing his true nature?
Either possibility was equally dangerous.
Caelan slipped into the exit tunnel, the blue lights guiding his way back to the surface.
His mission had yielded valuable information and materials, but also raised disturbing new questions.
As he emerged under the stars, one thought dominated all others: he was no longer alone in his strangeness.
Whether ally or enemy, someone else walked Velderra with knowledge that didn't belong in this world.
The game had just become infinitely more complex.