Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

"Aldric Veltorin."

The moment the words left his lips, Draven's entire posture changed. His fingers, which had been idly tapping against his glass, stilled. His gray eyes sharpened—not wide with surprise, not openly reactive, but tighter. A flicker of something passed through them, too quick to catch.

But Lucavion saw it.

A small, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. A slight shift in his jaw.

That was enough.

'So the name means something to him.'

Draven exhaled through his nose, his gaze never leaving Lucavion. The tension in the room had shifted yet again—not just thick, but layered.

"There are a lot of people named Aldric in this world," Draven said finally, his tone even, unreadable. "Especially in this city."

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, tapping a finger against his glass. "Maybe. But are there a lot of Veltorins?"

Draven's expression didn't shift, but something passed through his eyes—a flicker, just for a second.

Then, he exhaled, shaking his head. "No one goes by that surname here."

Lucavion watched him carefully. He had expected some reaction, and now he had confirmation.

Maybe not to the surname, but to the name itself.

'So, you know him.'

Lucavion let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze sharpening before he finally spoke again.

"Let me make this easier for you," he said, his voice smooth. "The man I'm looking for… He's no commoner. A 6-star Awakened, a former Arcanis military captain. Unaffiliated now, but very much active."

Draven's jaw flexed slightly. His fingers curled against the table.

There it is.

"You're talking about a knight," Draven muttered, his voice lower now.

Lucavion nodded. "More than that. A noble-born knight. Thirty, maybe thirty-one by now. Left the war after three years. Officially discharged, but that's just what the records say."

Draven let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb against the rim of his glass. "You're serious?"

Lucavion exhaled softly. "I don't play games when it comes to this."

Draven's gray eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he remained silent. Processing. Calculating.

Lucavion continued, his voice steady. "He was last seen in Varenthia." His smirk twitched faintly. "And a man like that? There's no way someone like you wouldn't have at least heard of him."

Draven let out a slow, low chuckle. It wasn't amusement—it was the kind of sound someone makes when they realize they've just been cornered into admitting something.

He reached for his drink, took a deliberate sip, and then exhaled.

"Yeah," he muttered, setting the glass down with a soft clink.

"I know him."

Draven leaned back, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. He had expected to be surprised at some point tonight, but this? Lucavion asking about Aldric Veltorin? That was unexpected.

Still, he let that thought settle for now. There were other matters to address.

"Firstly, before we start talking about that name let me ask you," Draven muttered. "Tell me—what do you actually know about this city?"

Lucavion exhaled softly, rolling the question over in his mind. He didn't rush his answer.

"Not much," he admitted, resting his chin on one hand. "It's my first time coming here, after all."

Draven raised a brow. "So you came blind?"

"Not entirely." Lucavion smirked. "I've heard things."

Draven waved a hand lazily. "Go on, then. Let's hear what an outsider thinks of my city."

Lucavion tapped his fingers against the wood, tilting his head slightly. "Varenthia is known for its chaos," he started, his voice smooth. "It's not part of any kingdom, no official rule—just power and coin. A place where mercenaries, smugglers, and traders thrive because no one asks too many questions. Law exists, but it's flexible. Strength and influence are what actually matter here."

Draven gave a small nod, his lips curving just slightly. "Not a bad summary."

Lucavion continued, "I've heard that many factions operate here—some open, some in the shadows. The city has ties to mercenary syndicates, crime lords, and even a few nobles who keep their hands clean by working through proxies." He exhaled lightly. "And, of course, it's a haven for those who want to disappear."

Draven chuckled. "That last part is especially true."

Lucavion tilted his head. "And yet, for all its lawlessness, Varenthia isn't just a den of criminals. It's a trade hub. Goods flow in and out of this city like blood through veins. Rare metals, enchanted artifacts, weapons, even illicit alchemy ingredients—you can find it all here, for the right price."

Draven exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "Alright. You've got the surface-level rumors. Let me fill in the rest."

Lucavion leaned back slightly, waiting.

"Varenthia isn't just a city built on chaos—it's a city that exists because of it. We're positioned on the eastern-southern edge of the Arcanis Empire. Close to the ocean, but not enough to be a full-fledged port city." Draven tapped a finger against the table. "That means we're an in-between. A gateway. Goods from the coast flow through here before heading inland, and trade from the west moves through before reaching the sea."

Lucavion nodded slightly, absorbing the information. "And the borders?"

Draven smirked. "South and east, you have the Kingdom of Solmara. They've got a strong navy, plenty of gold, and a royal family that pretends they don't deal with smugglers and mercenaries." He scoffed. "But they do. Their merchants make too much money off Varenthia to ignore us. They just don't like admitting it."

Lucavion's fingers tapped lazily against the wood. "And the west?"

"West is the Republic of Drazhkar." Draven's smirk faded slightly. "They're different. Less centralized, more independent city-states tied together by trade. Unlike Solmara, they don't pretend to stay out of the underworld. They fund some of it."

Lucavion raised a brow. "Including you?"

Draven chuckled, swirling his drink. "Tch. I've done business with some of their merchants, sure. But the Republic funds a lot of things—mercenary bands, smuggling routes, even resistance groups in Arcanis if the price is right. They like having options."

Lucavion nodded slowly. "So Varenthia thrives because it sits at the crossroads of all these powers."

Draven grinned. "Exactly. The Empire doesn't claim us because they can't afford the hassle, Solmara funds us under the table, and Drazhkar uses us as a tool. That's why Varenthia is a city where anything can happen."

Lucavion exhaled, glancing toward the dimly lit room. "Sounds like a place where people like you do well."

Draven chuckled, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "People like me, people like you…"

Draven leaned forward, rolling his glass between his fingers, watching the amber liquid swirl. His sharp gray eyes flicked up toward Lucavion, his smirk still lingering—but there was something more beneath it now. Something measured.

"You're asking about Aldric Veltorin," he murmured. "And I'll tell you. But first, let me explain why I'm even talking about all this."

Lucavion raised a brow, waiting.

Draven exhaled through his nose. "I don't claim to be an expert on the politics of the Empire, Solmara, or Drazhkar. I don't give a damn what the kings and ministers are scheming up there." He lifted his glass slightly. "But what I do know is my city. And things have been shifting here. A lot more than usual."

Lucavion's fingers tapped once against the wood. "Shifting?"

Draven let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Yeah. You see, Varenthia has always been a delicate balance. Factions fight, but no one wins too much. Everyone gets their cut. But recently…" His eyes darkened slightly. "That balance has been breaking."

Lucavion remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Draven leaned back, rubbing his jaw. "A new organization has made its appearance. Small at first, barely worth noting. But they've been swallowing deals across the city—one by one. Smugglers, mercenaries, trade routes, protection contracts. The usual lines of power?" He exhaled sharply. "They're cutting through them."

Lucavion's gaze sharpened. "And this is hurting you."

Draven scoffed. "Of course it is. I don't mind competition, but this isn't competition. It's a goddamn takeover. And whoever's behind it? They're not some amateur trying to play king. They know exactly what they're doing."

He picked up his drink again, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. Then, finally, he looked straight at Lucavion.

"And their leader?" His lips curled, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"That man you're looking for."

A beat of silence.

"Aldric."