Rise of The Abandoned Husband

My phone vibrated against the table. I glanced at the caller ID—Mariana Valerius.

"Liam Knight speaking," I answered, keeping my voice neutral despite my exhaustion.

"You promised to visit the Celestial Apothecary Guild today," Mariana said without preamble. Her tone held a hint of reproach. "Ignazio Bellweather has been waiting for that formula you mentioned."

I rubbed my temple. With Clara's departure and the Martial Guild's new interest in me, I'd completely forgotten my commitment.

"I apologize, Pavilion Master. Recent events have been... complicated."

"So I've heard," she replied dryly. "News travels fast when you kill disciples in public courtyards."

I grimaced. Of course she would know.

"Jackson Harding is also here," she continued. "He expressed interest in seeing you again."

That caught my attention. Jackson Harding wasn't a man who waited on anyone. If he wanted to see me, it must be important.

"I'll come right away—"

My phone beeped with another incoming call. The number displayed made my blood run cold: Emerson Holmes.

"Pavilion Master, I need to call you back," I said quickly. "Something urgent has come up."

I switched calls before she could respond.

"Mr. Knight," Emerson's smooth voice came through. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Not at all," I lied. "What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I require a meeting. Tonight." His tone left no room for negotiation. "Mount Qinvor. Nine o'clock."

Mount Qinvor was a desolate area outside the city limits—not exactly the kind of place one suggested for friendly chats.

"May I ask what this concerns?" I kept my voice even.

"Matters best discussed in person," he replied. "Come alone. I'll do the same."

The line went dead before I could respond.

I immediately called Mariana back.

"I need to postpone our meeting," I told her. "Emerson Holmes just contacted me. He wants to meet tonight."

A long pause followed. "Emerson Holmes personally reached out to you?" Her voice had dropped to a near whisper. "Be extremely careful, Liam. The man doesn't make social calls."

"I'm aware," I said grimly. "I'll come to the Guild tomorrow morning."

"Very well," she agreed. "And Liam? Wear the protection amulet I gave you."

After ending the call, I paced my chamber. Emerson Holmes was a dangerous enigma—high in the Martial Guild's hierarchy yet somehow always separate from their collective decisions. If he wanted to meet privately, something significant was happening.

The Man with the Mustache entered without knocking, as usual.

"You look troubled," he observed.

I briefed him on Emerson's call.

"Mount Qinvor?" He frowned deeply. "That's isolation territory. Perfect place for an ambush—or a conversation no one's supposed to hear."

"Which do you think this is?"

"With Emerson Holmes?" He shrugged. "Could be both."

---

Night fell heavily as I drove toward Mount Qinvor. The winding road grew narrower as civilization fell away, replaced by craggy outcrops and scraggly vegetation. I'd left The Man with the Mustache behind despite his protests. If Emerson detected any surveillance, the meeting would be over before it began.

I parked at the base of the mountain and began the climb on foot. The moon cast long, distorted shadows across the rocky terrain, creating the illusion of movement where there was none. Or at least, where there should be none.

Something rustled in the underbrush to my left. I froze, extending my senses outward. Nothing. Perhaps just an animal.

As I neared the summit, I spotted a lone figure silhouetted against the night sky. Emerson Holmes stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him, gazing at the distant city lights.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?" he said without turning. "Veridia City glittering like stars fallen to earth."

"I didn't come for sightseeing," I replied, stopping several paces behind him.

He turned slowly. In the moonlight, his features seemed carved from marble—handsome, cold, and utterly without warmth.

"No, you came because I summoned you." A thin smile curved his lips. "And you're curious about why."

"Among other things."

Emerson gestured to a flat rock. "Shall we sit? This may take some time."

I remained standing. "I prefer to keep this brief."

"As you wish." He shrugged elegantly. "I'll come directly to the point. You've become quite the topic of discussion among my colleagues."

"I assumed as much."

"They've seen the footage of your encounter with Broderick," he continued. "Your resistance to his power has... concerned certain parties."

I kept my expression neutral. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not," Emerson said with a soft laugh. "But you should be. The Guild doesn't appreciate anomalies, Mr. Knight. They prefer predictability."

"And what do you prefer, Mr. Holmes?"

His eyes glinted in the darkness. "Information. Understanding. Power, in its purest forms."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because unlike my short-sighted colleagues, I see opportunity where they see threat." Emerson moved closer, lowering his voice though we were alone. "They want to eliminate you. I want to understand you."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive goals," I pointed out.

He laughed again, the sound echoing off the rocky terrain. "True. But I prefer my subjects alive and cooperative."

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the night air. "I'm not interested in becoming your research project."

"No? Not even if it meant learning the truth about your father? About that pendant you carry?"

My hand instinctively went to the jade pendant beneath my shirt. "What do you know about my father?"

"More than you might expect," he replied cryptically. "The Guild has extensive archives. Records dating back centuries. Names, lineages... prophecies."

There was that word again—prophecies. The Man with the Mustache had mentioned them too.

"What prophecies?" I demanded.

"Patience, Mr. Knight." Emerson's smile widened. "Information of that value requires an exchange."

"What do you want?"

"For now? Nothing but your discretion regarding this meeting." He clasped his hands behind his back again. "In the future? Perhaps assistance with certain... inquiries."

I studied him carefully. "You're going against the Guild's wishes by meeting me."

"Let's say I'm pursuing an independent research interest." Something shifted in his eyes—calculation, ambition. "The Guild moves too slowly, bound by tradition and caution. I prefer to act when opportunity presents itself."

A small sound—like a twig snapping—came from behind a cluster of rocks about thirty yards away. Emerson's head snapped toward the noise.

"We're not alone," he hissed.

I expanded my senses, detecting a faint presence—someone trying very hard to remain hidden.

"One person," I murmured. "Behind those rocks."

Emerson's face hardened. "This meeting never happened, Mr. Knight. Contact me through the usual channels if you wish to continue our discussion."

Without another word, he strode away, disappearing down the mountainside with remarkable speed.

I remained where I was, focusing on the hidden observer. They weren't moving—still trying to maintain their cover.

"You can come out," I called. "He's gone."

Silence greeted my words. I walked toward the rocks, ready to defend myself if necessary.

A small electronic device gleamed in the moonlight—a recording device, set up to capture audio and video. But the person who planted it was gone, having slipped away during my brief conversation with Emerson.

I crushed the device in my hand, but the damage was already done. Someone had evidence of my meeting with Emerson Holmes—evidence that could be dangerous for both of us.

---

The next morning, I drove to the Celestial Apothecary Guild as promised. My mind was still processing the strange encounter with Emerson and its abrupt conclusion.

Mariana Valerius waited for me in her private study, a spacious room lined with ancient medical texts and rare herbs. Her ageless face betrayed nothing of her thoughts as I entered.

"You're late," she observed.

"I apologize." I handed her a sealed jade box. "The formula Ignazio requested. I've made some improvements since we last discussed it."

She accepted the box without opening it. "How was your meeting with Emerson Holmes?"

I hesitated, weighing how much to share. "Brief. Interrupted."

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Interrupted? By whom?"

"I'm not certain," I admitted. "Someone was recording us. Emerson left immediately when he realized."

Mariana's expression darkened. "This is troubling. Emerson Holmes doesn't make mistakes like meeting in locations where he can be observed."

"Unless he wanted to be seen," I suggested. "With me specifically."

"A possibility," she conceded. "But for what purpose?"

I shook my head. "He mentioned prophecies. Records about my father."

Mariana went very still. "Did he specify which prophecies?"

"No. He was deliberately vague."

She moved to a locked cabinet and withdrew a small scroll. "Jackson Harding asked me to give you this if you mentioned prophecies. It seems his intuition was correct, as usual."

I accepted the scroll, surprised by its weight. "What is it?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Jackson sealed it with an ancient technique. Only you can open it."

I studied the scroll's exterior. No markings, no clues to its contents.

"Where is Jackson now? I thought he would be here."

"He left at dawn," Mariana said. "Something about 'preparations being necessary.' He's always cryptic."

I carefully tucked the scroll into my inner pocket. "Thank you for this. And please thank Ignazio for his patience."

As I turned to leave, Mariana touched my arm lightly. "Liam, be careful with Emerson Holmes. He serves no master but himself, not even the Guild."

"I've noticed," I said dryly.

"And one more thing," she added, her voice dropping. "There's talk of internal conflict within the Guild. A man named Bryson Gibbs has been challenging Emerson's position for months. If someone was recording your meeting..."

"It could have been Gibbs or one of his people," I finished for her.

She nodded grimly. "And you may have just become a pawn in their power struggle."

---

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room within the Veridia City Martial Guild, Bryson Gibbs watched footage on a large screen. His purple robes rustled as he leaned forward, a smile spreading across his face.

"Play it again," he instructed the nervous-looking man before him.

The footage restarted: Emerson Holmes and Liam Knight, meeting secretly on Mount Qinvor, their conversation barely audible but their alliance undeniable.

"Emerson Holmes, you secretly made contact with Liam Knight," Bryson whispered, echoing his spy's excited words from the previous night. "You're done for."

The spy shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I lost the recording device. Knight discovered it after Holmes left."

"It doesn't matter," Bryson waved dismissively. "We have what we need. The Guild forbade any unsanctioned contact with Liam Knight, yet Emerson defied that order." His smile widened. "This is the proof I've been waiting for."

He stood abruptly. "Prepare the evidence for presentation to the Council. By this time tomorrow, I'll be wearing gold robes instead of purple, and Emerson Holmes will be explaining himself to the Elders."

The spy bowed and hurried out, leaving Bryson alone with the frozen image of Liam and Emerson deep in conversation.

"Two birds with one stone," he mused. "Emerson's career and the Knight problem, both solved at once."

He reached for his communication device, preparing to set his plan in motion. Little did he know that the power struggles of the Martial Guild were about to collide with forces far beyond his comprehension—forces that had been awakening since the moment a jade pendant had activated in the hands of an orphan named Liam Knight.