CH441 Sky Above Skies

***

After Alex left, a visibly disgruntled Brieger turned to Rolfe and said,

"I know we're all rivals, but wasn't there an unspoken agreement to band together and fleece outsiders who step foot here and throw their weight around? To think you'd actually curry favour with an outsider."

He pushed himself up from his seat.

"I hope you haven't forgotten. Outsiders like them will leave and we will remain. That's how it's always been. That's how it will always be."

With that, Brieger the Desert Razor strode out of the casino.

As he exited, his gaze flicked briefly toward the inn opposite the casino. A storm of thoughts passed through his mind, but in the end, he turned away and walked off with his entourage in tow.

Back inside the casino, at the high-roller table, Bram—who had remained largely impassive throughout the entire exchange—finally turned to Rolfe.

"I hate to admit it, but that idiot is right," Bram said. "I may not like you, but I respect your instincts and your hustle. Siding with an outsider like this… it's not like you, Weasel."

Rolfe's face twitched.

It had been a long time since anyone dared call him by that name. However, there was nothing he could do about it—Bram was one of the very few people in Camp Red Rock who could still get away with that.

"I have my reasons," Rolfe spat curtly before standing up and taking his leave.

The moment he stepped outside, his entourage closed in around him, forming a tight protective formation.

One could never be too careful.

Rising through Camp Red Rock's social ladder—from a nameless alley rat nicknamed Weasel to becoming the Broker, one of the most powerful men in the camp—Rolfe had committed countless shady acts along the way. Naturally, he had made just as many enemies.

It had reached the point where he dared not move about without an escort, constantly wary of assassination.

It was a hard life—but one Rolfe had never regretted. Until now, he had believed there was nothing he would trade for the position he clawed his way into.

Before today—before just an hour ago—Rolfe had been content with where he stood. He harboured no grand ambitions of rising higher.

But that had changed.

An opportunity had presented itself.

And his mind raced desperately, searching for a way to seize it.

For the first time in a long while, Rolfe felt a crack in his position.

A weakness no number of thugs at his back could truly shield him from.

Like Brieger and Rolfe, Bram also left the casino and returned to his residence. However, a deep frown had settled onto his otherwise plain face.

Others might look down on Rolfe with contempt, but Bram didn't.

Because more than anyone else, Bram understood that Rolfe possessed the instincts of a survivor—a natural talent that was indispensable in the Wildlands.

'There has to be a reason why he took such an interest in that kid,' Bram mused.

Yet no matter how he turned the matter over in his mind, nothing fit neatly into place.

He tried to rid himself of the lingering thoughts by burying them beneath flesh and pleasure, taking the woman he had brought back from the casino. But even her warmth and sultry cries failed to fully distract him.

Suddenly, Bram's eyes sharpened.

He pulled away, rose from the bed, and began dressing.

'No. I need to understand what's really going on.'

Leaving the woman behind just short of satisfaction, Bram strode out of his residence without a word.

He dismissed his guards and made his way alone toward Rolfe's compound.

The guards stationed there were visibly surprised to see the Blood Blade travelling without an escort, but none dared bar his way.

Inside, Bram found Rolfe in his study, standing before a fireplace, staring into the dancing flames.

Clearly, the man's thoughts were no less restless than his own.

"What are you doing here, Bram?" Rolfe asked without turning around. "And I hear you came alone—without guards. Aren't you afraid I'll have you killed, here and now?"

Bram snorted.

"If you intended to kill me, you wouldn't have agreed to see me," he replied.

He crossed the room and dropped onto a sofa.

Rolfe finally turned from the fire and took the seat opposite him.

"Why have you come?" Rolfe asked again.

"I came to find out who that outsider is," Bram said bluntly. "The one you were willing to side with—throwing aside our unspoken rule."

His gaze hardened.

"I saw your reaction. There's something special about them. I want to know what it is."

Rolfe's lips curved faintly.

"And you think I'd simply tell you?"

Bram met his eyes evenly.

"Don't forget," he said. "You owe me."

Rolfe shook his head.

"That debt isn't big enough for me to potentially offend him by telling you," he said flatly.

"Then what do you want?" Bram asked without hesitation. "I'll pay."

Rolfe looked at him with a hint of surprise.

"If I tell you what I think, my debt to you will be cleared—and you will owe me instead," Rolfe proposed. "Do you accept?"

"Fine." Bram nodded.

He needed to settle the unrest in his mind. A small favour owed to Rolfe was a price he was willing to pay.

Rolfe inclined his head, his expression turning solemn.

"This is only my deduction," he cautioned. "I could be wrong. Do you understand?"

"Get on with it." Bram waved dismissively.

He knew Rolfe well enough. The man wouldn't speak like this unless he was already convinced by his own reasoning.

"Have you ever heard of the High Sorcerer families?" Rolfe asked. "They're also known as Sorcerer aristocracies."

"What?" Bram's eyes narrowed. "You think he's from one of those lineages?"

"You know of them?" Rolfe nodded. "Good. That makes this easier. Yes, I believe he is. One of the old bloodlines that have kept their power hidden since antiquity… the 'sky above skies'."

Rolfe paused, then continued quietly.

"Back when I was still working under the old man—before I took his place—he once told me his greatest regret. He had an opportunity to aid someone from the 'sky above skies'… and he let it slip."

Both men fell silent.

After a moment, Bram broke the silence.

"And what makes you so sure?" he asked. "He could just as easily be from some other powerful noble family."

Rolfe looked at him steadily.

"Have you ever heard of an ordinary noble family producing someone that young who is not only Gold-ranked, but also so thoroughly versed in the ways of the world?" he asked. "When you looked at him, did you feel like you were dealing with a child… or an equal?"

"Or even..."

'A superior.'

Though Rolfe didn't say it aloud, Bram finished the thought instinctively.

"And that's not all," Rolfe continued, his gaze sharpening. "The women at his side are also powerful sorcerers in their own right. And those guards behind them… they're different from your average joe."

He gazed at Bram intently,

"Do you really think an ordinary noble family could produce all of that—together—and casually send them into the Wildlands?"

The latter part of the deduction was the most important.

There could exist an organisation capable of producing such individuals. And since Alex had openly identified the women as his wives, both Rolfe and Bram recognised the possibility that this power dynamic was the result of strategic marriages.

However, if that were the case, then Alex and his wives would be extremely valuable assets to their organisation.

There were many safer ways to allow such individuals to gain experience. No sane organisation would send people of that calibre into the Hollowcrest Wildlands—a place this extreme—without absolute confidence in their survival.

Only a truly powerful organisation—one whose gaze extended far beyond territories governed by civilised laws—would dare send its scions into a land like this.

The sky beyond skies.

Rolfe glanced at Bram before continuing.

"Even if I'm wrong, and they aren't from one of the old Sorcerer families, their bearing and power alone place them at least as the scions of a Duchy."

He paused, then shook his head.

"No… they must be royalty at minimum. The boy only subconsciously reveals his regality, but the women? They're practically oozing it."

"I see…" Bram's eyes flashed with understanding. "No royalty would hide their affiliation unless they had a reason. And if they are concealing it while still displaying such obvious tells… then there must be more to them."

"Exactly." Rolfe nodded sharply.

Silence fell between them once more.

"So," Bram finally asked, "what do you plan to do now?"

A trace of conflict crossed Rolfe's face. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke.

For the next half hour, he laid out his thoughts. The two debated, refined, and dismantled ideas until a plan slowly took shape—one that satisfied them both, and which they hoped would also satisfy Alex.

More than an hour after stepping into Rolfe's mansion—by Camp Red Rock standards—Bram departed and returned to his own residence.

Anyone who saw him could tell that, despite his frosty and stoic exterior, he was in a far better mood than when he had arrived.

In fact, he was in such a good mood that he was finally able to focus on his postponed bedtime matters—sending the woman he had earlier left just shy of her peak straight to cloud nine and beyond.

***

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