The white and gold of the Third Division didn't belong in a place that bled grey. As the heavy, armored carriage came to a halt in the center of the Ash-Hollow square, the contrast was almost offensive. The vehicle was a masterwork of reinforced iron and gold filigree, pulled by six massive, mana-augmented dray horses that breathed plumes of white steam into the freezing morning air. It stood in the middle of a plaza paved with cracked slag, surrounded by hovels that seemed to be held together by nothing but soot and desperation.

Gareth stepped down from the carriage first. He adjusted his silk cape, his gloved hand resting habitually on the hilt of his sword. The air here was foul, a thick mixture of sulfur and coal dust that threatened to stain his pristine white tunic. He looked around the square with a look of practiced indifference. To him, the people watching from the shadows weren't citizens. They were the biological byproduct of the Empire's industrial machine.

Behind him, a full squad filed out of the carriage. Six Sentinels in gleaming silver plate formed a perimeter, their movements synchronized and cold. Finally, the two Captains emerged. They were both Justiciar rank mages, their mana pools so dense that the air around them seemed to shimmer with a heavy, distorted heat.

Captain Kaelen was a man of sharp angles, his eyes the color of stagnant ice. Captain Varkas was broader, his presence a physical pressure that made the ground beneath his boots feel brittle.

"This is a waste of resources," Varkas grunted, his voice like grinding stones. He didn't wait for an invitation. He simply expanded his mana aura, a Rank 5 weight that rolled across the square like a physical wave.

The effect was instantaneous. A group of refinery workers who'd been huddled near a communal heater collapsed. Their knees hit the slag with a sickening thud, their breaths hitching as the sheer density of the Captain's power pinned them to the earth. A few children screamed, their small voices cut short as the pressure stole the air from their lungs.

"You're being loud, Varkas," Kaelen said, though he didn't move to stop him. He walked toward a man who looked like the village overseer, a withered husk of a human wearing a tattered divisional badge. "Report. We tracked a resonance signature to this sector forty-eight hours ago. A girl, age twelve. Where is she?"

The overseer tried to speak, but the pressure was too much. He could only wheeze, his face turning a dark, bruised purple. Gareth watched the man's struggle with a flicker of boredom. He reached out and kicked a bucket of oily water that sat near the man's hand, splashing the filthy liquid over the overseer's boots.

"Answer the Captain," Gareth commanded, his voice ringing with the arrogance of his rank. "Or do we need to search every cellar in this hole? I promise you won't like the state we leave them in."

Varkas eased the pressure just enough for the man to gasp for air. "We... we don't know any girl," the overseer managed to choke out, his eyes wide with terror. "Most children here work the chimneys. They're all covered in soot. One looks like the next."

"Liar," Kaelen said softly. He reached out and gripped the man's jaw, his fingers glowing with a faint, white light. "The Empire doesn't make mistakes with its tracking. You're hiding a defect. You're harboring a variable that doesn't belong to the Crown."

"She's just a child!" a woman shouted from a nearby doorway. She stepped out, her hands stained black with grease. "She hasn't done anything to your Empire. Why can't you just leave us alone?"

Varkas didn't even turn his head. He flicked his wrist, and a lash of solid mana struck the woman across the face. She was sent spinning back into the dirt, her lip split and her eyes glazed with shock. The other villagers moved to help her, but another pulse of pressure from the Captain sent them all back to the ground.

"It's always the same with the low-born," Varkas said, looking at Gareth. "They think mercy is a right. They don't understand that their very existence is a privilege granted by the Emperor's order. They see a girl who can change the world and they think it's a miracle. They don't remember the history of their own kind."

Gareth nodded, his gaze hardening. Every officer in the Third Division was drilled on the history of rogue authorities. Three hundred years ago, the Empire had been lax. They'd allowed commoners who manifested Authorities to live, thinking they could be integrated into the military. Then came the rebellion of the Unbound. A group of low-born Authority users, led by a man who could manipulate space, had decimated three Western provinces. They'd torn open the sky and let the void swallow entire cities simply because they felt they were discriminated against by the noble bloodlines.

The result had been a decade of civil war and a decree that had stood ever since. Power without a pedigree was a declaration of war. An Authority in the hands of a commoner wasn't a gift. It was a tumor that had to be excised.

"It's ridiculous that they sent all of us," Varkas muttered, kicking a piece of debris out of his path. "I was in Oakhaven for the last cleanup. Gareth went in there with a single squad and handled the signature in half a day. Now the High Command is twitching. They're sending two Captains for one girl? Something's brewing if they're this paranoid."

"The reports say she was seen with two others," Kaelen said, his voice devoid of any emotion as he watched a young boy scramble away in the dirt. "A boy with a spear and a girl who looks like she's never worked a day in her life. That's why we're here. We aren't here to murder. We're here to ensure the safety of the Empire's assets. If a few weeds have to be pulled to save the garden, then that's the price of peace."

He turned back to the overseer, his grip tightening until the man's jawbone began to creak. "The girl. And the strangers. Where did they go?"

The overseer pointed a trembling finger toward the north, toward the jagged, metallic silhouette of the mountains. "The Groves. They went toward the Groves. Please, just let us be."

Kaelen released the man, who slumped into the soot like a discarded rag. The Captain wiped his hand on a silk handkerchief and tossed it onto the man's head.

"The Iron-Groves," Gareth repeated, a cold thrill running through him.

"They're heading for the Hidden Dungeon," Varkas said, a dark smile touching his lips. "The interference there is high. They think they can hide their signatures in the mercury sap. They think the metallic trees will protect them from the Emperor's light."

"It's a smart play for a commoner," Kaelen admitted, walking back toward the carriage. "But they've forgotten that we don't need to track them if we know where they're going. We'll set the perimeter and we'll burn the groves if we have to. The girl dies today, and the strangers die with her."

Gareth climbed back into the carriage, his cape fluttering in the soot-laden wind. He looked out at the villagers, who were still pinned to the ground by the lingering aftereffects of Varkas's aura. They looked like ants, small and insignificant, waiting for a giant's boot to finish the job.

"Move out," Gareth commanded.

The carriage's wheels creaked as the mana-augmented horses lunged forward. As the vehicle lurched into motion, it crushed a row of market stalls that hadn't been cleared quickly enough. The wood splintered like dry bone under the heavy iron wheels. None of the men inside looked back. They had a mission, they had the law, and they had the absolute certainty that they were the only ones who mattered in a world made of mud and ash.

The Ash-Hollow outpost faded into the grey mist behind them. It left only the scent of ozone and the silent, broken remains of a village that had dared to get in the way of the Empire's will. Gareth leaned back in the plush leather seat, his eyes fixed on the distant iron treeline. He could almost feel the heat of the fire he was about to start. It was going to be a long night, and he intended to enjoy every second of it.

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