“This is useless, my Lord,” said Rebecca, one of the Zaatsus in Seear’s team. “This is the third establishment we’ve checked and there is no sign of the White Bolt anywhere.”

  Renekom shook his head as Obadiah said, “Don’t worry. Fallon’s businesses are stretched across the globe. We will find a trace eventually.”

  “Yes, but we don’t have time. And if you recall, it took us months to locate him before. Even when Master Baylis caught him, it was not before months of playing cat and mouse.”

  “Then I guess we should get a move on…”

  The Seear moved ahead. They were standing nearly 100 meters from one of Fallon’s largest hotels in Stockholm, Sweden. “Wait, Obadiah,” he said. “Fallon has hundreds of establishments around the world. It would take us months to search them all.”

  “So, then what’s our next move, sir?”

  “I’ve invited a few friends.” He looked around at everyone once before looking away. “Some contacts from the Order have agreed to meet us here…”

  Surprised, Rebecca asked, “Who?”

  “A Warden, and an Archon himself…”

  Some gasped while all were left stunned. Wardens, overseers who were responsible of supervising the Order’s activities in different territories, liaised with operatives of the Eye all the time. But to meet an Archon, a member of the Order’s ruling council, was a rarity.

  “Let’s hope they can help,” Renekom added. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Elsewhere, after sending his siblings off to search deeper into the market, Hugo quickly made his way to a shop at the western corner of the Bazaar. It was a large tent. There was a small wooden A-frame outside.

  “Weapons and more – your outlook of the world.” Hugo read with a smile then looked around. There were four large tables laden with rare weaponizing artifacts and Ki enhancing charms. They were surrounded on three sides by cupboards filled with some of the finest weapons in the entire Moving Bazaar.

  The Zaatsu noticed six salespersons among the many customers. ‘Business sure is booming,’ he thought.

  Ignoring the calls of the salespersons, he moved through the crowd and reached the rear edge of the tent. There was a curtain there. He removed it and peeked inside after undoing his masking spell.

  “Hey!” cried one salesman. “You can’t go in there!”

  There was a desk back there and a man sitting on a chair on the other side of it. He was wearing a black hoodie, worn-out black jeans, and a pair of old white sneakers. His long black hair was tied in a ponytail. He looked up at the Zaatsu peeking in. With a narrowed gaze he stared befuddled.

  “Hello, Calitri.” Hugo stepped inside. The salesman rushed and grabbed him by his shoulder.

  “Baylis?” The man stood up from the table. “The hell you doin’ here, man?!”

  The salesman quickly let go.

  The man in the hoodie walked over. Hugo moved ahead. Smiling, the two embraced.

  “Niccolo,” the Zaatsu quietly said, tightening his grip. “It’s been an age, old friend.”

  “More than an age,” he replied in kind. “How’ve you been, Hugo?”

  “I’ve been better…”

  The salesman realized the guest was someone important and left the shop owner’s room quickly.

  Niccolo moved back. “What brought you all the way out here?”

  “There’s a stench in the air.” Hugo stroked back his hair. “Evil is in the wind. So, I thought – who better to approach than the ones who watched the winds themselves…”

  The host froze for a heartbeat. “You mean us, right?”

  Hugo smiled faintly. “Yes – the Outsiders.”

  Niccolo Calitri – a name briefly mentioned in old archives – was the coordinator of what little remained of the Outsiders.

  “The wind is forever cursed with that stench, mate.” Niccolo smiled. “Otherwise, we’d be out of business.”

  They both chuckled.

  “So, I heard you had a big showdown in Spain recently.”

  “Hmm.” Hugo nodded. “Do you know who we fought?”

  “The Devil’s Hearth.” Niccolo sighed and looked away. “We’ve been followin’ them for years.”

  Standing arms akimbo, Hugo’s smile disappeared as his gaze narrowed. “You knew? Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “It wasn’t goin’ inward – Eye wasn’t involved. So, we didn’t find a reason to disturb you.”

  “They’ve been stealing remnants. Do you know?”

  Niccolo’s grin faltered. “Yeeeah… those remnants.”

  Hugo studied him for a moment – the once-bright apprentice who had trained under Vincent Von Bergen himself. He had been on the path to becoming a Seeker before Ambris’s slaughter ended the movement for good. The fire that the Seekers had sparked in him still burned, buried now under years of smoke and black market dust.

  “Can you trace them?”

  Niccolo scratched his goatee, smiling wearily. “I’m no Vincent,” he replied. “I can follow their shadows when they show themselves, but they’re good at stayin’ hidden.”

  Pausing, the shop owner grabbed a chair and placed it next to Hugo. “Have a seat and tell me, what do you need?”

  “I need information, Nic.”

  Sitting back on his chair, he shrugged. “I’ll give you what I have, but these days, it ain’t much.”

  Hugo nodded and asked, “They were using arcane enhancers – by any chance, is this the same group of collectors that started popping up after Ambris’s demise?”

  “Yup, we believe so.”

  “Shit…”

  “But I can’t lay a hand on their motives. They’re very ambiguous, you know?”

  “Well, that’s true. But I think you’d be interested in knowing who leads them…”

  “Oh, that’s anybody’s guess.”

  “Not asking, Nic. I fought him…”

  Niccolo leaned ahead in his chair. “Who?”

  “Their leader.”

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  “Where? When? How?” His gaze widened.

  “In the forest… in Spain…”

  “Who is he?”

  “An Alchemist.”

  “The fuck?!”

  “Oh and by the way, it’s actually Derek, the tongue-man.”

  “Derek… Alchemist? But alchemy ended centuries ago!”

  “Yup, that’s what they said.” The Zaatsu nodded, took a deep breath, leaned back, and crossed his arms. “But apparently, the forbidden art is still alive and well.” After a pause he added, “His alchemy was basic though, but the charms these bastards have collected are worrying me.”

  “What did he have?”

  “Charms of Zeke and the Minotaur.”

  “My God! You don’t buy that, Hugo. He must’ve found ‘em somehow.”

  “In any case, I think it would’ve been tougher had he known more complicated alchemy.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” Smiling, he leaned ahead and looked at Hugo with a narrowed gaze. “You learned wizardry from Amazonians, bub. Even a high level Alchemist would’ve had trouble fighting you.”

  Niccolo paused and scratched his head. “I need to call this in regardless. Remnants are being stolen, scriptures are being stolen, and now this.”

  “What about the Dark Art Scriptures?” Hugo cleared his throat. “I was asked to pursue a bounty hunter for those.”

  “Ah, the White Bolt.” He shook his head. “That bastard’s a unique case that one.”

  As Niccolo paused again and dropped his head, Hugo waited as well. Somehow, the Zaatsu did not feel comfortable giving away information about the White Bolt to the Outsiders just yet.

  Just then, the salesman walked in once again. This time, he came in carrying tea and biscuits.

  “Oh, I already had tea,” Hugo quickly explained. “No need for the formalities, Nic.”

  The man placed the tray on the desk and left.

  “Do you think he may be on their parole too?” Niccolo asked as he picked up one of the cups and pushed the other towards Hugo.

  “White Bolt? Can’t say for sure.” The Zaatsu reached for a biscuit. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged once more then shook his head. “We’re not exactly sure about him. You have to understand we have been dealin’ with a lot these days. Our entire contingent of folks down under has turned up missin’.”

  “How many?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Shit…”

  “Our members are bein’ hunted, our allies are turnin’ into enemies – times are tough, old friend.”

  “Did our people ever actually pursue him?”

  “The White Bolt? Well, we tried.” With a chuckle, he added, “I mean the guy was a little too quick for us. But didn’t your team follow him and caught him?”

  “Yes, we did. But did you people ever meet up with him or found a valid trace?”

  “No, no.” Niccolo shook his head. “No such luck at all. Why askin’?”

  “He gave us the slip.”

  “Ah, great.” The Outsider rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

  “What about the Cults?”

  “They don’t trust us anymore, Hugo. No tellin’ what’s going on there. We’re barely able to keep tabs on ‘em.”

  Silence prevailed thereafter, and the Zaatsu finally picked up his tea cup as well.

  Back in Stockholm, Renekom and Obadiah, along with Mystics Dustin Flores and Amara Becker, had made their way into the Hotel Regentia. It was nearly 2 a.m. They found the lobby café still open but only barely. It was running on a quiet night shift. Overhead lights were dimmed to a warm amber, throwing long shadows across the empty chairs and polished floors creating a peaceful contrast to the arcane world’s turbulent nature.

  They walked in and were immediately recognized by the lone attendant standing behind the counter, rinsing glasses with the slow, unhurried movements of someone used to the silence. He did not panic – he smiled and continued rinsing. All of Fallon’s establishments had been alerted by then. They were expecting the contingent.

  Most of the lounge seats were empty, arranged in careful symmetry around low marble tables. The quartet took to the far corner and sat quietly. The steady hum of the ventilation system filled the quiet, broken only by the occasional soft click from the coffee machines cooling down for the night.

  Outside the tall windows, Stockholm lay dark and unmoving, its streets empty, its buildings dimmed to silhouettes. At this hour, the hotel felt sealed off from the world – quiet, pristine… yet expectant.

  After thirty minutes of waiting, Renekom saw a message appearing on the Seeker’s Scroll paper placed on the table in front of him – ‘party incoming.’

  “It’s Michael,” Obadiah whispered.

  Stationed on the top of a nearby building, Michael had spotted the masters of the Order walking into the hotel.

  Two men approached the café. Renekom nodded. “They’re here.”

  He stood up – so did the others. The bartender finally stopped rinsing glasses.

  The older of the two gentlemen led. He was just a few inches short of 6 feet tall and moved closer with his stooped back calmly, his cane tapping softly ahead of each careful step. The wrinkles on his face were masked by a thick, full, untrimmed white beard. His white hair was nicely contrasted by the black hat, black derby shoes, black three piece suit, and a shocking red tie. The shaky Ki radiating from his body was evidence of his old age but experienced mind.

  The young man close behind him, barely in his 40s, had donned the same outfit just without the hat. But his short hair was dark black in colour and he had a clean beardless face. He also appeared taller than his stooped leader, and his Ki was stable, strong, and showing immense control.

  Renekom moved ahead and shook hands with the old man.

  “Mr Weiss,” he said, smiling. “So nice of you to meet us on such short notice.”

  Zev Weiss was an Archon of the Order – one of the family heads who sat on its ruling council and quietly steered the world from behind closed doors.

  “It’s a pleasure, Master Mujin,” he replied. His voice sounded raspy, his tone monotone, dull, and tired. “And I see you’ve brought the honourable Primarch and even the old-man Zaatsu, Master Brown.”

  Renekom looked at his partners with a smile. Michael was hidden atop a neighbouring building. A senior Zaatsu of his calibre should not have been spotted or sensed. But the Order had its ways.

  “Have a seat,” the Seear said and then proceeded to shake hands with the Warden. “Good to see you again, Lior.”

  “Likewise,” he replied. Lior Baroch, a Warden of the Order, was the man who quietly oversaw their operations across half a continent and made sure every unseen string was pulled on time. And since it was a Warden’s job to liaise, he had met the leadership of the Eye many times.

  They all sat down to discuss.

  “The White Bolt has been a ghost, as always,” Zev explained. “He has evaded detection. Even satellite and CCTV images could not pick him up.”

  Renekom took a deep breath. “How is he able to do all this?”

  “He understands how our systems work just as well as he understands how your systems work.”

  Lior crossed his legs. “Last hint we received was in Athens.”

  Obadiah looked at the Seear and then at the Warden. “What do you mean by 'hint'?”

  “It was a partial facial match. But it was of no use. We couldn’t even locate the half.”

  “Yes, but we hardly put the resources into it.” Zev placed a hand on the table. “I must repeat, Master Mujin, that the Hearth is a bigger threat for now. Your people always let the Cults live free.”

  Renekom dropped his head. “That is why I have called you here, Mr Weiss.” Looking up he added, “I want you to let us worry about the White Bolt while you deal with the Devil’s Hearth.”

  The patriarch thought for a moment. With a hand under his chin, he turned his head slightly to his right. His Warden, sitting to his right but a few paces behind, leaned closer.

  “What is your current status on the Devil’s Hearth situation?” Zev asked, in a hushed voice.

  Lior replied in kind saying, “Agents are looking at the black markets and gathering intel.”

  “How long?”

  “I’ll submit the report within a week.”

  Zev looked at Renekom. “Then let us meet next week. Is Friday suitable?”

  The Seear nodded. “Of course.” After a pause, he asked, “Anything else you can tell us about the White Bolt?”

  “Mr Baroch…”

  Lior pushed his chair ahead. “Sir?”

  “Hand over the search of the White Bolt to them. Give them everything you have.”

  They had picked up a Ki-signature but there was no way to be sure whether it belonged to the White Bolt or not. They had a partial picture captured by a CCTV camera which they had sent to Operatives inside intelligence agencies around the world but had found no match with that either. However, there was one way…

  “Mobile signal receivers picked up spikes of electromagnetic interference in three different locations,” Lior explained. “Naples, Italy, then Mitrovica, Kosovo, and finally Athens, Greece. The one in Athens was picked up just three hours ago.”

  Amara asked, “What do these signals mean?”

  “It’s how we found a trace the last time,” Renekom explained. “Then it took two Zaatsus several days to catch up with him.”

  “It is consistent with the patterns.” The Warden leaned back. “These interferences are created by the extravagant use of his signature lightning bolts.”

  Zev looked at Renekom. “But be careful, Master Mujin,” he warned. “This man is no ordinary threat. What worked once may not work a second time.”

  The Ki-signature behind the electromagnetic interference was transferred to the Masters of the Eye and then the Archon and the Warden left.