The Man in the Spire: Book 1, Chapter 19 – A Man for the Future

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The Man in the Spire: Book 1, Chapter 19

A Man for the Future

Troy Rechlin – Major of the Peacekeeper Union Corp
Outside Nanhu City Gates

Maybe in another time, in another situation, with better conditions, Troy would have loved to visit Grand Nanhu City.

How often did anyone get the chance to see a place shaped by magic yet run on technology barely beyond the Iron Age? A city that should have been a crown jewel of fantasy and a historian's wet dream. A living absurdity made real.

This visit was not that.

His situation?

Caged like an animal.

No. Worse.

Animals could move in a cage.

Even if Troy could move on his own, he was shackled at the neck, wrists, and ankles with chains anchored to the cart. The links clinked and rattled together every time the wagon lurched forward. Every bump made the metal pull tighter, like the city itself wanted to remind him that he was not a person right now. Just a package to be delivered.

His condition?

Even more awful.

His cybernetic body was exposed and badly damaged. Armor plates were scorched. Synthetic skin had burned away in ugly patches, leaving behind a blackened framework, loose clothing, and exposing raw machinery to the air. The kind of damage that would require a machine shop to fully repair, one this world would not have for another millennium at least.

He was nothing more than a futuristic, expensive statue in chains.

And timing?

Horrible.

Preservation mode meant he had gone from a week of operation to a handful of days, maybe less. On top of that, he could feel his own mind slipping away. It was still there, but what was “him” was being disregarded. Like something vital being sanded down. In its place came cold logic that did not care.

Logic Fusion Degeneration.

"Glassing," the other C.O.G. operatives called it, since the victim stops pretending to be a person.

A horrible mistake in that fight. He let the computer’s logic run alongside his emotions, then overtake them, using it as fuel. Now it felt like only pieces of him were left.

The angry pieces.

The kind of rage he had fought to keep leashed long before he became a C.O.G. The same part that took several swings of a tire iron around a man’s skull after the man laid hands on his sister. A bruise was traded for a shattered eye socket and a week in a cell to cool off while the rage stayed hot.

Years of anger management and specialized mind-meld training had come apart in a single day. All because people he had known for only a few days had died to the same brutal world that had shaped them, fed on them, and taught everyone else to call it normal.

He did not regret what he had done. Not yet.

What bothered him was that he had not done it better.

Maybe that was the machine talking. The problem was, Troy could no longer tell where the machine ended and he began.

A reboot would take him back to himself, at least close enough to remember who he was. He could not afford it. Not now. Not while he still had a link to Hordak. Not while there was anything to monitor, anything to record, or any scrap of data that could turn into an opening for a rescue.

He believed that to be true. But another side effect of glassing was the belief that a return to form was… unnecessary. Troy could not tell if he was making a rational decision or if the machine had taken over that much.

Most of his general processes still worked. Thinking. Audio. Visual. Basic communication. He could talk if he needed to, even if he sounded like something from a horror movie. His communication line with the Spire and Hordak was still open, though mostly limited to internal channels. He could hear. He could see. He could plan.

That was all he had left.

The cart jangled as it hit a pothole in the brick road. Chains sang. The guards kept the onlookers back as they passed through the massive gates. The one who captured him sat atop the cage in silence, checking his weapons with the detached calm of someone sorting trophies, using him as a shield from attack.

Troy glanced up at Liu’s hands and hoped she would accidentally point one of his guns at her face and inadvertently pull the trigger.

One could only hope.

He scanned the city entrance as they passed through the massive gates.

Hundreds of onlookers stared as the wagon rolled by. Most were mortals in hemp clothing and ragged wear. A few stood out in finer fabric, likely merchants. Above them, cultivators watched from rooftops with polished robes and calm eyes, studying the procession like they were waiting to see what kind of animal had been dragged home this time.

As for the city itself, maybe it was because he had no patience left, but it looked like what an abandoned hotel would look like.

One could see its former glory, like in the ruins of Rome or the bones of old Hong Kong. One could see what it was. One could see what it lost. Buildings were held together with emergency patchwork and jury-rigged repairs. Anything still upright wore its age openly, with paint peeling, stone weathered, and wood warped and split.

Even the road was failing. Another pothole rocked the cart and made his chains bite again. One of the guards snapped at the driver, but it was not his fault that the street had turned into Swiss cheese. Anything built with Qi had to be maintained with Qi, as his former friends once said. Watching the damage and seeing the logo of a lotus flower on everything, Troy felt the rot ran deeper than neglect.

Knowledge that is not shared is knowledge lost. The city relied on one group of people, as talented as they may be, to keep the city alive.

Now that they were gone, this was the end result.

All he could do was take in the sights, work with Hordak, and plan the next move.

Even with his mind compromised, he still had the same goal.

He was going to go home no matter what.

***

Ying Liu – Outer Disciple of the Amberwood Sect
Nanhu City Mid-Level Entrance

There was much to think about in the aftermath of the battle.

What came next? What words could be offered to the magistrate, to the sect, to Master Mon Su?

Liu sat cross-legged atop the cage, rocking with the wagon as iron wheels rattled over the uneven stone street. The newly acquired weapons kept the mind from sinking into silence.

The demon stayed quiet, which suited her. The less demonic vocals filled the air, the less temptation there was to end it right there.

The same went for Mei Ying’s body. It hung from the rear of the wagon, wrapped in a flax blanket obtained from some locals. Legs bumped and swung with every jolt. It was not dignified. It was not proper. But it was better than leaving her to rot where she fell.

So she turned her attention to the demon’s tools, if only to keep the mind from dwelling on the rest.

Not a speck of charmwork. No Qi infusion or ritual craftsmanship. Just metal shaped amongst itself, smooth and clean in a way that felt almost insulting. A craftsman might have marveled at the precision. Liu’s talent lay in violence and violence was easy to understand.

These tools commanded space, making distance insignificant. By simply pointing in the right directions, cultivators had dropped by the handful, including Mei Ying, without the courtesy of a real fight.

That power would not be wasted.

Demons owned many things. Demons did not own every good idea. Master Mon Su was rumored to carry a demonic blade and call it righteous so long as it served the sect.

If its hellish master could wield such a thing, why not Liu?

High above, the screeching metal bird carved a circle through clouds, a thin white trail behind its wings. It was looking for a chance to strike. As long as she was between it and the demon, she was safe.

Liu lifted the smaller dart thrower and aimed, using the notches on top. The sight aligned. Breath steadied. Finger squeezed.

Click.

“So that lever on the side is an inhibitor.” She muttered to herself, looking over the weapon. The larger thrower carried the same feature, along with additional settings that demanded careful study.

Liu shifted to the heavier weapon and practiced ejecting and inserting the empty cartridge. The sequence was clean and easy to repeat. It made sense in her hands. Useless without darts, but still useful as training. Both weapons followed the same foundation but used different sized darts.

The conclusion was simple. A larger arrow struck harder; a narrower one could go further; a smaller one could be more plentiful.

If it could be applied to something as simple as arrows, was the same concept used for these darts?

How far could that principle be pushed?

The cart turned and began its climb toward the palace, traveling down one of the largest streets, which meant more for palatial uses, what with its decorated pillars, large waving flags, and more cleanly set path.

Liu took up the smaller thrower again. Fingers found the part that slid with unnatural smoothness. The slide drew back.

Snap.

A dart popped free with a crisp click and flashed in the air. Liu caught it with quick and disciplined precision, palm closing before it could escape. When the hand opened, the dart lay there, small and flawless, cold and dull.

It was the dart that should have ended her.

Memory returned in sharp pieces. The barrel aimed at her head. It was as if fate itself had stepped between life and death. The stare was fixed on the dart until the wagon creaks faded. All cultivation, all pride, all years spent learning to survive, and a sliver of metal like this could have erased it all.

Just like her sister.

The taste of death was strong.

A soft thump against iron bars broke the trance.

Below, street urchins ran alongside the wagon, taking advantage of distracted guards. One flung a stone and laughed when it bounced off the iron frame. Another stone struck the demon inside who did not even react.

She did not care for the stoning but it was her prize and they were violating her space.

Liu let a sliver breathe outward and used the minor amount of Qi left to send them away with a bit of killing intent.

The children yelped in pain and scattered. One stumbled. Another seized an arm and hauled the first upright, both fleeing together. Brothers, judging by their closeness.

Liu’s gaze drifted to the blanket wrapped around Mei Ying.

“Savage,” the demon muttered behind the bars, voice foul as a curse directed to her.

Fingers curled around the dart thrower, her fangs bared. The urge rose again to end the demon now and silence that wretched voice forever.

Soon the demon would no longer be a problem. Soon Mei Ying’s remains could be tended properly. Soon the world could return to normal and everything could be as it was.

That was the lie, and Liu held it tightly as the slide snapped shut in her hands.

***

“This,” Qian hissed, staring into the metal demon’s face with her one good eye, “is the fabled outsider?”

Qian, captain of the guard, stood at the head of the receiving party. Red and black robes marked rank and station. A hammer hung at her side ready to cave a skull in.

The very pleasant horsekin spat on the stones. “Not impressed.”

Liu’s tail snapped once. Of course they dismissed her. Of course they dismissed what she dragged home through storm and blood. Juniors were meant to be useful and quiet. Juniors were meant to bring results and accept contempt as payment.

Mei Ying had always been better at taking on that contempt.

“And where is the rest of your patrol?” Qian demanded, peering around like they were in hiding. “Even for juniors, there were enough of you to put down even a moderately competent spirit beast.”

“Dead,” Liu said, voice tight, thumb pointing to the sky. “By the hands of this creature and its flying pet on Lorun Hill.”

Qian’s gaze flicked up, following the line of Liu’s words. High overhead, barely visible, the metal bird circled. One could mistake it for a strange hawk or mythical creature.

Qian’s mouth flattened. “And the male?”

“Desecrated,” Liu said. “Maimed beyond recognition.”

One of Qian’s long horse ears twitched. Fingers tightened on the hammer haft. Anger sat close to the surface, but Liu could not tell what fed it. Whether she blamed herself for letting the snakekin enter the fight or if she simply wanted the demon to suffer for killing him.

Qian exhaled, and the emotion passed with a wave.

“Enough. Get it inside. And you,” she snapped, pointing at Liu’s face. "You look like you crawled out of a grave, so take your first reward before you defile this sacred domain any further.”

The mortal fodder moved with purpose.

One group hauled the cage onto a smaller, more ornate pulley wagon built to be brought in to the castle. Another approached Liu with a wooden box of spirit stones. Bronze variants. Well crafted as expected. Channels cut to guide qi flow cleanly with a glowing lesser gemstone embedded in the top.

Liu could only collect one before the lid snapped shut, nearly taking her fingers.

She growled in annoyance before steadying her breathing, allowing the channels in her body to pull from the stone.

Warmth hummed in her palm. The first pull cleared her mind. The second washed through meridians like water over cracked earth. Dirt and blood slid away from skin and cloth in silent sheets, fading in to dust. The dulled gray of her fur brightened toward clean snow. The weave of her enchanted garments tightened back into proper form.

She was back to her normal self.

When the stone was now dulled, Liu crushed it to fragments with her rejuvenated strength.

It felt good to be whole again.

“We will send a party to collect the fallen and return them to their sects for proper burial,” Qian said, voice clipped. “Your dead will be guarded while you receive your reward.”

Liu gave a single nod, more than happy to leave the unpleasant woman. She collected the lead rope and pulled her chained prize through the main courtyard.

Pillars rose overhead as they passed over a koi pond, carved with dragons and names so ancient they felt less written than decreed. Silk banners stirred in the wake of passing. Servants, both cultivator and mortal, did their duty to keep the grounds pure and immaculate.

The wagon rattled, chains chimed with every turn of the wheels. The demon’s head stayed fixed forward. Its ruined body stayed upright, silent, and obedient in a way that pleased her more than it should have.

Its submission suited her just fine.

Mortals dropped low as she passed. Cultivators watched from the balconies above, whispering behind silken sleeves, their eyes drifting from Liu to the thing she had dragged into the palace.

The procession ended before the throne room doors.

Two guards stood there in formal armor, still as shrine statues. Studied their stance. The way they carried their blades. The faint trace of Amberwood discipline left beneath palace polish. A tribute to the rulers of this land, performing new duties to their new master.

But did anyone ever truly leave their roots?

Then the guards disappeared inside, leaving Liu alone with her prize in the corridor.

Perfect. She wanted one last “talk” with the creature before they gave their final heartfelt goodbye.

Liu lifted a hand. Flame bloomed in her palm, bright enough to paint the polished floor in a flickering orange.

“How does it feel to know your pathetic struggle was all for nothing?" Liu murmured, her voice keen with glee. “That when we enter those doors, I walk away rewarded, and you get dragged to judgment.”

Her fingers curled tighter. The flame sprayed higher.

“Speak,” her enthusiasm growing, a bit of her old self returning to light. “Let me savor it. How does despair taste?”

The creature remained silent and resistant. She knew it couldn’t move or fight back in any way, even if the means were unknown to her. But just looking at it boiled her blood.

Then it spoke with that horrific distorted voice.

“You tell me. How does it feel to have a dead sister?"

The fist couldn’t strike fast enough.

Knuckles slammed into its jaw with a dull metallic crack. The painful sensation was welcomed.

In one sharp motion, she pulled the silver dart thrower free from her sleeve and jammed the barrel beneath the creature’s chin. Metal scraped against metal as its head was pressed upward.

“I can still make this right!” Liu hissed, breath hot and unsteady. “Give me a reason! One reason not to end this here and now!”

Silence stretched.

Then something icy and wrong brushed Liu’s neck.

“First,” a voice purred behind her ear.

Liu froze.

A ratkin woman clung to Liu’s back like one would to a lover. Soft voice but with the intent to kill. Fingers stroked under Liu’s jaw, almost tender.

Only then did Liu see the silvery threads. The same ones that tore apart the sect barracks to summon her and her sister to this mission.

They looped around the dart thrower, around her wrist, and up her forearm. One pull and the arm would become meat.

“You would lose your reward,” the ratkin whispered. “Then your hand. Then your life.”

The threads tightened, not enough to cut, just enough to promise destruction.

“Now be a good girl and relinquish all property of the outsider to the magistrate.”

Liu’s teeth clenched. Those weapons were hers. Spoils. Proof. The only thing that made this feel like anything but loss.

But this was a battle she couldn’t win.

Liu’s grip loosened.

The dart thrower vanished into shadow above. The rest followed. Anything shaped like a weapon was dragged away into the darkness as if the ceiling were an all-consuming void.

Liu spun, tail snapping, but the ratkin was gone. Only her voice lingered, light and pleased.

“The magistrate will see you now.”

Liu huffed, swallowed her rage, and took hold of the rope tied to the wagon, ready to end this nightmare.

***
Troy Rechlin

Once again, in any other place or any other time, Troy would have been impressed.

The chamber was enormous. Wagon wheels and chains echoed as the cart rolled across white marble. Red columns rose in two long lines like something built to force the eye upward. Somewhere above, golden light spilled down from a source Troy couldn’t see. The whole room was engineered to make visitors feel small.

He would have been captivated if he were not so calculatingly pissed off.

At the base of the dais stood a tigerkin in blue and black robes, posture stiff with authority and eyes bright with the wrong kind of interest. Two snakekin scholars lingered behind her, calm and watchful. Cultivators, Troy assumed, with the smug white-furred tigerkin in front and center.

Beyond them sat their boss.

At first glance, the figure on the throne almost resembled a snakekin. The more he looked, though, the more clear it became it was something else entirely. Red scales scattered across ivory skin. A tail that looked like a flexable crimson brush. Hands in claw-shaped fingers. Jade horns rose from black hair, crowned with ornaments that caught the light.

The mask pulled at his attention the most.

Half the face was covered, mimicking what he had to assume was its ancestral lineage. The eyeholes were dark yet something glowed within the darkness, like two burning wheels of ember fire. Something about them hit something deep within his core, causing a crawl up his spine. Like spotting the faint details of a monster in the deep dark woods before it struck. A natural response so ingrained that even his digitized mind tapped into something primal.

This was his natural predator, looking at him like it had always known what he was.

There was only one kinsman that could match this.

A dragonkin. The Magistrate.

“I have brought the creature!” Liu shouted, slapping the lead rope to the floor. “I have satisfied the terms.”

“Such insolence!” the tigerkin snapped back with disgust before quickly turning toward the throne with a smug delight. “Shall we cut her knees so this lowly one remembers what to do in front of their betters?”

The magistrate said nothing. Clawed hands folded under the lip of the mask, hiding part of the woman's mouth. She was too busy devouring him with those haunting eyes to care about the yelping dog.

The tigerkin hesitated. “Great One, shall we commence the validation?”

Still nothing. Only a slow flick of that heavy tail.

Apparently this creature held enough sway that it was enough. The scholars stepped forward in unison.

“I want my reward,” Liu snapped as they passed.

“You will be satisfied when your betters are satisfied,” the tigerkin replied, not even sparing the dogkin a glance.

The scholars circled Troy once. Then twice. Then a third time.

One tapped exposed muscle fibers. Another pressed at the remaining false skin, thumb dragging to check texture. The third leaned in and touched his exposed cyberoptic retina.

Troy could do nothing but watch them work. All he could do was hope they didn’t pull out knives to start dissecting him.

All three scholars stopped at once and exchanged a glance. Silk scrolls slid from sleeves. Each scroll glowed faintly before being lightly tossed into the air.

They hovered in the air before unfurling into long sheets suspended in front of them. Brushes appeared in their hands so fast it was as if they appeared from nowhere. Ink flowed just as fast, lines formed at a pace that felt less like writing and more like printing.

Diagrams. Cross-sections. Measurements. Sketches of Troy’s damaged frame from multiple angles. Potential theories. The scrolls filled with their ink as it slowly rolled up, giving a constant thread of unwritten tapestry.

Within mere moments, all pulled their pens away like blades on a killing strike at the same time. The scrolls rolled up on their own and snapped shut, landing back into waiting hands with soft, unified thuds.

The trio formed a line facing the dais. The tigerkin stepped forward, and the way she carried herself made it clear she wanted the honor and spotlight.

“As Nanhu Palace scholars," she said, voice steady and precise, “this one speaks for the record.” She gave a small, formal nod, then continued. “Zhi, Chief Scholar of Record and Archive.”

She gestured toward Troy, a specimen on display.

“The vessel contains neither meridian channels nor dantian foundation. Its energies do not flow as qi, and what appears to be flesh is only a crafted covering over an artificial frame. Even so, the structure endures despite extensive ruin."

A second scholar stepped forward. Her scroll unfurled. Symbols and diagrams shifted across its surface as if the ink were alive.

“Materials are neither mortally forged nor are they heaven-refined. Energies are contained internally, inert at present, and appear physical rather than spiritual. No known sect, dynasty, or recorded craft claims such construction. The closest match this one knows of is Heavenfire Glasscraft Arts, but this object does not share any of its qualities."

She bowed, deep and proper, stepping back in line.

“This one advises continued containment and methodical study. The entity cannot be dismissed as a rogue artifact. Its existence challenges foundational assumptions.”

Zhi lifted her gaze to the throne, careful with her phrasing.

“Origin remains unclear. The source may lie beyond the known realms or within a discipline developed outside Heaven’s influence.” She closed her scroll with a crisp snap. “What can be stated with confidence is this. The entity is unprecedented.”

Zhi’s eyes returned to Troy.

“As the court must name what it cannot yet place, this one submits the most accurate term available.”

The pause felt deliberate, knowing this was what the dragon was waiting to hear.

“An Outsider.”

For a long time Troy had wondered whether this metal shell still held a soul or whether fear and resolve were only code wearing old memories. As many things, this was always best not to think about.

Then the dragonkin smiled.

Something inside Troy twisted beyond the diagnostics. A cold weight settled in his chest plate where his heart would have been.

Even in a metal shell and suffering the effects of glassing, he could still feel dread.

That was the worst way to learn his soul was still there.

The magistrate’s gaze moved off Troy and settled on Liu.

Liu stiffened beneath it. The heat in her blood cooled at once, leaving only the ache in her bones and the weight of dried blood beneath her restored robes. A moment ago, she had been the survivor of Lorun Hill. The disciple who had dragged an Outsider through Nanhu’s gates.

Under Lin Yao’s stare, she was only the lowest level of a cultivator standing too close to the throne of a god.

Her ears lowered before she could stop them. Her grip tightened around her robes with the need for something to hold.

“You have done well, subject,” Lin Yao said. “Release the curse on it, and I will fulfill my end.”

“I…" Her voice caught. "I can’t.”

The dragon's eyes narrowed, demanding an answer without a single word.

“T-The d-emon’s i-inability…” She stuttered but quickly collected herself, taking a deep breath. “Its inability to move was not caused by my hands."

She stepped forward and shoved Troy. The response was immediate and unwavering.

Stabilization regulates seized control. Damaged legs were quickly adjusted to the distributed weight. The restraints caught and pulled, snapping his body upright like a puppet yanked back onto its strings. His body unwillingly returned to a stable position.

Troy felt every part of it happen and commanded none of it. A dozen curses rose through stubborn pride and old habits. He swallowed them all.

“I see,” Lin Yao said. “Can it still speak?”

“Oh yes, Great One,” Liu answered quickly. “Despite having little value in what it says.”

The dragon's claws tapped against each other, sounding almost like two pins striking each other.

A hand rose.

Zhi stepped forward immediately, a new red scroll unfurled, and the brush was poised. Ink shimmered, excited to fulfill its duty.

“Let this be witnessed and recorded,” came the command. “I, Lin Yao, Magistrate of Grand Nanhu, do hereby bestow a Magistrate’s Favor.”

The brush kept up with ease.

“This Favor is not a coin to be spent lightly, nor a plea to be bargained for. It is my will made portable. Within the bounds of my dominion, doors will open, objections will fall silent, and commands issued under this seal will be treated as though they came from my own decree. Resources, protection, judgment, and reprieve may be claimed, so long as they do not defy Heaven itself nor demand the impossible.”

Despite this regal recognition, Liu seemed to twitch with impatience.

“The consequences of this Favor, should it stir unrest or blood, rest upon me alone. You will not be questioned for invoking it. You will not be denied.”

With that, the scroll rolled back up and a burning seal edged itself into the shell. The magistrate lowered her hand. “With this Favor, you may decide today or in the fu—”

“I wish for weapons!” Liu snapped without the slightest hesitation; determination filled her face.

Lin Yao blinked only once at the sudden outburst. “Yes. My vaults are open to you. Select one and it shall be yours.”

“I want his.” She commanded, eyes remaining locked with the magistrate as she pointed towards Troy.

The room went still.

“…Out of the question,”

“All possessions and materials of the creature belong to Magistrate Lin Yao for further study,” Zhi declared, her voice sharper now, the court line delivered with practiced certainty.

“You said anything within your power,” Liu snapped back. “This is well within your power. I want the demon’s weapons and all that is required to use them.”

Lin Yao did not move but the air changed.

Troy couldn’t sense Qi, but everyone else reacted like a storm had rolled into the hall. Bodies tensed with hitched breaths. The prideful scholars took a large step back.

Liu trembled but still did not bow.

“Is the great and powerful Lin Yao a liar?” Liu declared. “I am the only survivor of Lorun Hill. I brought you your prize. How would your subjects react if you denied me what was promised?”

The pressure grew. The large banner flags that decorated the throne swayed by an unseen wind.

Lin Yao raised one hand toward Liu with malicious intent.

Claws snapped. The sound cracked across marble.

A wooden box dropped from above and hit the floor in front of Liu with a heavy thud. Where it came from, Troy could not tell.

“You are fortunate,” Lin Yao growled, voice low and edged, “that I am in a good mood, insolent little mutt. Take your spoils. Take what you need to make use of them. No more. No less.”

The white-furred dogkin bowed fast and deep. The box opened. Troy saw his guns and knife lying neatly inside, carefully packed and ready to be studied.

Liu stepped in close and began stripping anything useful from Troy’s body, searching through pouches, pockets, and compartments. Everything found went into the box, piling up like an overstuffed shopping cart.

For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Both have choice words with each other, like “I hope she rips you limb from limb” or “Do the world a favor, put the barrel in your mouth and eat a bullet."

None came out.

“The Favor is complete,” Lin Yao said as the red scroll appeared with my symbols like chains to bind it. “Be gone from my sight.”

Liu bowed again and retreated with the box pressed tight against her chest. She did not turn her back on the throne until the final steps, and even then, the motion looked less like obedience than a desperate escape.

“Hordak, fry her ass the moment she leaves these grounds,” Troy commanded over their private channel.

“The target is no longer an active combatant,” Hordak replied. “A strike may provoke retaliation. Shall I proceed?”

“Magistrate,” the tigerkin spoke, the word nearly trembling with excitement. Troy’s attention snapped back to the throne, now dealing with a greater threat. The professional tone that was carried a moment ago was gone, replaced with pure anticipation. “Shall we begin the study?”

“No,”

The tigerkin blinked. “Magistrate?”

“I wish to be alone with the Outsider.”

A lesser servant might have obeyed at once. Zhi had enough rank and less experience to know better.

“Are you certain that is wise?”

Lin Yao’s gaze slid toward her. The cat woman seemed to suddenly remember her place.

“At once, Magistrate.”

She bowed deep and withdrew, scrolls gathered carefully in her arms. The others followed. Scholars, attendants, guards, and hidden watchers all bled from the chamber until marble and gold had nothing left to hold but silence.

There was a moment of silence before the woman spoke again.

“I mean everyone.”

Nothing answered at first. Then came the faintest sound from somewhere high above. A delicate pluck of strings, like a musician testing its instrument, fading away into the distance.

Only Troy and the magistrate remained.

The golden light from the sun transformed without changing at all. With the court beneath it, the glow had seemed regal. Sacred, almost. Now it felt like an interrogation lamp left burning over a prisoner who had no ability to look away.

A slow smile formed behind her fingers. When the hands lowered, the smile exposed something dangerous.

The dragon rose from its seat of power.

The room seemed to shrink around her.

She was taller than Troy expected, easily eight feet or more, but height was the least of what she brought with her. The space bent around her presence. Marble, gold, and shadow all seemed to understand what he could not.

“At long last,” Lin Yao said.

Troy could not look away.

The restraints held his head in place, forcing him to follow her with only his eyes as she descended from the dais. Each step clicked against the floor, deafening with approach. Even stuck, the dragon woman did everything to get his attention.

“Years of searching,” she spoke with a whisper, with delight and with reverence all at once. “Years of research. Years of humiliation of those with less imagination."

The beast stopped within reach.

Close up, she was more terrifying. The air between them felt thick enough to choke on, even without lungs. Shadow swallowed much of her frame, but not her face. Not horrific glowing eyes and the smile she was struggling to contain.

That containment failed within seconds and the smile grew, revealing rows of knife-like teeth.

“You are finally mine."

—–
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Author Notes:

And so the two meet face to face. A dragon and a man.
Also, I'm sure Liu has nothing terrible in mind with those guns. Nothing at all.

ALSO: Wanna see how Troy got here in the first place? Check out the Patreon-exclusive chapter 0!
https://www.patreon.com/Between_the_space/posts/man-in-spire-3-f-157031924?collection=2157686

Want to see what happens next, see side stories and artwork, or just want to support someone who hopes to become a professional writer?
Consider watching me on Patreon! There is plenty of free content so feel free to take a peek!

As always, I appreciate reviews, comments, and any feedback!
Thank you everyone for reading! See you around, outsiders!