The morning air over Black Tortoise City was sharp and clean, laced with the faint scent of stone and sea. Along the lower streets, where the newly built homes lined the terraces in neat, even rows, a small group of weary travelers stood in disbelief.

"Can we really live here?" one of them whispered.

She was a woman heavy with child, her hands resting protectively over her rounded belly. Her face was drawn and pale, the look of someone who had spent too many nights in flight, too many days waiting for punishment that never came. Before her stood a modest stone house—simple but sturdy, roofed in polished slate and fitted with glass windows.

Mirean Moon smiled softly. "Of course. This one is yours."

The woman blinked. "But… my husband is a thief." Her voice trembled as she said the word, as if even naming his crime might bring down judgment. "I thought… I thought people like us wouldn't be allowed to stay here."

"Your husband will bear his sin," Mirean said gently. "You will not bear it for him."

There was warmth in her tone, but also the kind of quiet firmness that brooked no argument. "This city," she continued, "does not punish the innocent. The Lord of the City believes redemption is possible—and that families should not suffer for one person's crime."

The pregnant woman lowered her gaze, tears trembling at the corners of her eyes. "He… redeemed his sin, then?"

"In a sense," Mirean replied, lips curving faintly. "And you have your part to play in that redemption."

Understanding dawned. The woman nodded quickly, clutching at her shawl. "I will make sure he atones properly. I swear it."

"That's all we ask." Mirean gestured down the street. "The water source runs through the middle. Ask your neighbors if you need help, but you'll be cleaning your own home. No servants."

"Yes, my lady." The woman bowed, voice trembling with gratitude.

Mirean moved on, her daughter Agni Moon following beside her with a fur-bound ledger in her arms. One by one, they visited the small houses, assigning them to the wives, children, and parents of captured thieves—twelve families in all.

"Mother," Agni murmured as she flipped through the parchment list, "what about the twenty men still imprisoned? The ones with no families?"

"They'll remain confined for now," Mirean replied. "The men in one chamber, the women in another. Until the Lord of the City decides their fate."

She glanced toward the nearly full district, her expression tightening slightly. Black Tortoise was growing faster than anyone had expected—every street, every home already claimed. There was barely room to breathe, much less to expand.

Agni's quill scratched softly as she wrote the note. "Understood."

She was learning quickly—the art of order, the patience of command. Mirean watched her daughter out of the corner of her eye, the faintest curve of pride touching her lips.

A few minutes later, a patrol approached. Alec, the tall officer of the watch, saluted briskly. Behind him, a line of bound prisoners shuffled forward—ragged, wary, their wrists still encased in silk-like restraints spun by the city's tamers.

"My lady," Alec said, "the thieves have been gathered."

Mirean nodded. "Any with family here may be released to them. The rest are to remain separated, awaiting Lord Luciel's word."

"Yes, ma'am."

At her gesture, Alec began untying several prisoners. The ones whose families had been housed nearby looked hollow-eyed but strangely relieved. They hadn't expected mercy—least of all a home for their wives and children. Some wept silently as they stepped free, bowing their heads to Mirean in gratitude before being escorted away.

The others—the loners, the rootless—watched with quiet despair. Taigen, a thick-shouldered man with storm-gray eyes, clenched his fists.

"They're letting them go home?" he muttered. "Those lucky bastards."

"Don't even think about running," Alec warned sharply. "The Lord of the City has use for you all. You'll live here in Black Tortoise for years if he wills it."

"For years?" Taigen's face drained of color. "I… I have a daughter. A wife waiting for me. I can't—"

"You can, if you want to keep living." Alec met his gaze coolly. "Consider it a mercy. You're still breathing."

The man looked away, trembling with rage and grief.

A few steps behind him, a young woman struggled against her bindings. Her beauty was wild, untamed—red hair tangled like a flame, eyes bright with defiance. They called her the Variety Witch, a thief known for changing faces as easily as masks.

"I told you," she hissed, "I wasn't here to steal! I was only curious—wanted to see this city with my own eyes!"

"You and a dozen others," Alec said dryly. "Funny how everyone becomes curious right before they're caught stealing."

"I mean it!" she shouted, glaring at the others for support. But none met her eyes. A few shifted uneasily, their expressions betraying guilt.

Her voice faltered. "So I'm really going to stay here… for years?"

"Until the Lord decides otherwise," Alec replied. He shoved the last prisoner inside one of the stone cells and pulled the heavy door closed. "Stay quiet, do as you're told. If you're lucky, he might find a use for you."

The iron latch clanked shut. Silence fell.

"Mother," Agni said as they climbed the slope toward the high ground, "why didn't you just kill them?"

Her tone was sharp, angry. The red-haired girl's youthful temper still burned bright. "They came here to steal from us. From him. We should have cut them down."

Mirean didn't answer immediately. The breeze caught her pale blue cloak, lifting it slightly as she looked toward the horizon. "Because they're still useful," she said at last. "Luciel sees value even in those who have fallen. A thief's skill, once tempered, becomes precision. Discipline."

Agni snorted. "Or treachery."

"They won't escape," Mirean said calmly. "The Lord has already accounted for that."

Her daughter frowned but didn't argue further. She'd seen enough of Luciel's foresight to know her mother was probably right.

After a moment, she brightened. "Then… at least let me go with you tonight."

Mirean stopped mid-step, arching an elegant brow. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? I'm strong enough!"

"You're Tier Three, Agni," her mother replied with patient finality. "Good against common foes, perhaps. But not against Awakeners from the Tenth-Floor City."

Agni pouted. "I'll advance soon."

"Not soon enough." Mirean's tone softened. "Be patient, little flame."

"Ugh…" Agni sighed dramatically, dragging her feet as they reached the final flight of stone stairs.

At that very moment, a familiar voice spoke from behind her. "What's this? A sigh so heavy, I could hear it from the next terrace."

"Wah—!" Agni jumped, letting out an unguarded yelp. She spun around to find Luciel standing just behind her, hands clasped loosely behind his back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really?" she exclaimed, cheeks flushing. "Can't you ever make a sound when you walk?"

"It's not my fault you drift into daydreams," Luciel said lightly.

Behind her, Mirean hid a small smile. She had sensed his presence long before he spoke.

Luciel's gaze swept over the two of them. "Everything arranged?"

"Yes," Mirean answered. "All the families have been housed, and the confiscated stalls have been returned to the city's control."

"No incidents?"

"None," she said. "The people are quiet. For now."

Luciel nodded approvingly. "Good work."

He started up the steps toward the central hall, Mirean and Agni falling in beside him. The wind off the ridge carried a faint chill from the newly made cold chambers below, and Luciel's white hair caught the light, glinting faintly like frost.

"There are still twenty prisoners with no families," Mirean said. "What will you do with them?"

Luciel's expression darkened slightly. "They'll serve a purpose."

He paused, watching the city below—the busy streets, the glow of torches, the thin plume of smoke rising from the forge. "I'll be forming a new division soon. A special department. Those twenty will be its first members."

Agni tilted her head. "A special department? Like the one you mentioned before?"

Luciel shook his head. "Not quite. These will be the unseen hands of Black Tortoise—operatives for work others can't do publicly. They'll take missions, carry out tasks, gather information. If they serve faithfully and complete their duties, they'll earn their freedom."

Mirean studied him quietly. "And if they don't?"

Luciel's eyes glinted coldly. "Then they'll wish they had."

Something in his tone made Agni shiver, though his expression never changed.

Mirean inclined her head. "So the thieves will become the city's shadows."

"A fitting use for them," Luciel said. "They already know how to move unseen. Better to turn that instinct toward the city's defense than against it."

She smiled faintly. "I see. Then I won't ask what kind of missions you have in mind."

Luciel gave her a sideways glance. "You'd only find out tonight anyway."

"Tonight?" Agni repeated, her curiosity immediately rekindled.

Luciel's lips curved into that infuriatingly calm, secretive smile. "You'll understand when the time comes."

He strode ahead, the long coat swirling behind him as he disappeared through the doors of the City Lord's Hall.

Mirean and Agni exchanged glances—one thoughtful, the other exasperated.

"He's impossible," Agni muttered.

Her mother chuckled softly. "Yes. But he's also never wrong."

They climbed the last steps in silence, the city spreading wide beneath them—a living creature breathing in the glow of dusk. And somewhere in its depths, the first seeds of Luciel's new department—his shadows—waited to take root.

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