Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

Raven discovered that Valeria had changed the plan only after it was too late to argue without attracting attention.

That wasn’t the only problem.

They were running out of time.

Transfer Station Four had already missed—or would soon miss—its next scheduled report. Keller had been clear about what happened afterward: credentials were invalidated, routes changed, warehouses emptied, and anything sensitive disappeared before investigators arrived.

North Shaft Seven contained the high-purity Black Mithril Raven needed.

It was also a secret Keller Mining had every reason to erase the moment they realized one of their stations had fallen.

If Raven wanted the legal route into the mine, tonight might be his last clean opportunity.

The Helmont estate occupied one of the highest districts in Dunvar, far enough from the foundries that the smoke reached it only as a distant gray haze, yet close enough to the mines to remind every guest where the family’s wealth came from. Gray stone walls surrounded perfectly trimmed gardens, statues of ancient miners held mana lamps, and a line of carriages waited before an entrance illuminated by golden crystals.

Raven had seen government facilities with less security.

He counted twelve guards before stepping out of the carriage.

Four visible at the entrance. Two on the side balconies. Another four pretending to be servants around the courtyard. Two more beside the inner doors, both carrying mana dense enough to mark them as Awakened.

And that was only what House Helmont wanted people to see.

”Stop looking for firing positions,” Valeria murmured.

Raven kept his eyes on a second-floor window.

”I wasn’t looking for firing positions.”

”Then you were looking for escape routes.”

”They can also be used as firing positions.”

Valeria released a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Raven finally looked at her.

For several seconds, he stopped analyzing the windows.

Valeria had abandoned her travel coat, boots, and light protective gear. She wore a long dress in such a dark shade of red that it appeared black under certain angles of light. The fabric fitted closely around her waist before falling in layered folds to the floor, leaving her shoulders and upper back bare. Thin crimson details ran through the dress like crystallized lines of blood, and a piece of blackened silver pinned part of her hair behind her head while the rest fell almost to her waist.

She wore very little jewelry.

She didn’t need it.

Valeria noticed how long Raven took to respond.

Her wine-colored eyes narrowed slightly.

”I thought you were immune.”

Raven looked back at her.

”To what?”

”Me.”

There was humor in the question.

Not only humor.

Raven studied her again, this time deliberately.

”I never said that.”

Valeria stopped for half a step.

Just enough to notice.

”No.”

”Then I’m not sure where the theory came from.”

”Years of watching how men react when I enter a room, followed by weeks of watching you react as though a chair had walked in.”

Raven glanced toward the line of guests.

”A chair wouldn’t have survived the Blackmaw.”

”What a devastating compliment.”

”It wasn’t a compliment.”

”That somehow makes it worse.”

Valeria resumed walking, but a small smile remained on her lips.

Raven followed.

There was no reason to pretend she wasn’t attractive. There never had been. Valeria was beautiful in a way that was almost too self-aware: sharp features, intense eyes, immaculate black hair, and a figure almost any functional man would notice.

Raven simply didn’t make a habit of turning observations into behavior.

There was a difference between noticing something and allowing it to control your decisions.

Black Hound had kept several men alive by teaching them that distinction.

Tonight, distraction was even less acceptable.

He needed Edric Helmont—or someone close enough to Helmont—to authorize access to strategic-grade Black Mithril before Keller Mining understood exactly what had happened at Station Four.

After that, the permit in Raven’s possession might become worthless.

Worse, North Shaft Seven itself might change.

Valeria extended a hand when they reached the first steps.

”Your arm.”

Raven looked at her.

”I can climb stairs without assistance.”

”I’m not concerned about your mobility. We’re entering as a couple.”

”That was your plan.”

”Our plan.”

”I remember voting against it.”

”I remember ignoring you for practical reasons.”

Raven offered his arm.

Valeria took it.

Too close.

Naturally.

Her fingers settled around his forearm, and she leaned against him with perfectly calculated familiarity.

Raven looked down.

”You’re enjoying this too much.”

”We haven’t even gone inside.”

”That contradicts nothing.”

They reached the first checkpoint.

A man dressed in Helmont black and gold accepted Valeria’s invitation, checked the seal, and gave a shallow bow.

”Lady Valeria von Nacht. An honor. Lord Helmont had expected your stay in Dunvar to be brief.”

”My plans changed.”

”Naturally. And your companion?”

Valeria smiled.

Raven sensed danger before she even spoke.

”Raven Ashford.”

The host examined him.

The name was probably already circulating.

”Foreign House?”

”Something like that,” Valeria replied.

Raven turned his head slightly.

Something like that.

The man became even more interested.

”I’m unfamiliar with the surname.”

”That doesn’t surprise me. Raven arrived recently from very far away.”

”I see. And what exactly is your relationship with Lady von Nacht?”

Raven opened his mouth.

Valeria tightened her grip on his arm just slightly.

”We’re still deciding what to call it officially.”

The man smiled instantly.

He had just received socially valuable information.

”I understand.”

Raven did too.

Unfortunately.

They entered.

He waited until they were far enough away that the host couldn’t hear them.

”You didn’t mention the engagement part.”

Valeria kept smiling toward the other guests.

”You didn’t ask.”

”That was intentional.”

”Naturally.”

Raven looked at her.

”You said partner.”

”And technically, I never said we were engaged.”

”You said we were still deciding what to call it officially.”

”Ambiguous. Elegant. Socially devastating.”

”Dishonest.”

”Raven, we are infiltrating an aristocratic reception to gain access to restricted military material before the company hiding your supply realizes one of its stations has been compromised. I’m surprised the moral purity of one sentence is where you draw the line.”

Raven had no argument for that.

Valeria leaned slightly closer.

”Besides, it works.”

It did.

Three people were already watching them.

An older woman near a column had stopped pretending to care about her conversation so she could study Raven instead. Two younger nobles had done the same.

Raven knew that look.

Curiosity.

Not exactly about him.

About the question:

Who was the man important enough for Valeria von Nacht to arrive with him on her arm?

That gave Raven social value without requiring him to build any first.

More importantly, it could get him into conversations where licenses were treated as signatures instead of month-long applications.

”I hate admitting this.”

”Then don’t. I can enjoy being right quietly.”

”You never do anything quietly.”

”Also true.”

Valeria lifted one hand and adjusted Raven’s collar.

He didn’t move.

”What are you doing?”

”Preventing you from looking like you dressed while escaping a fire.”

”Roland said it looked fine.”

”Roland wears the same shirt for three days.”

”That doesn’t invalidate his opinion.”

Valeria finished adjusting the collar.

Then left her hand against Raven’s chest a little too long.

”If you’re going to pretend you want to marry me, you could at least look pleased about it.”

Raven looked past her shoulder.

Two side doors.

Three balconies.

Main staircase.

A second staircase partially concealed behind a curtain.

”I’m evaluating the exits.”

Valeria closed her eyes for a moment.

”Romantic.”

”You promised this was an operation.”

”Operations can have charm too.”

”Not Black Hound operations.”

”That explains a great deal about you.”

The reception occupied three connected halls.

Raven had expected music, expensive food, and nobles talking too much.

All of that was present.

So was business.

A lot of it.

This wasn’t a party attended by merchants.

It was a commercial summit disguised as a party.

Mining-company representatives spoke beside nobles. Refiners negotiated contracts while drinking wine. Kingdom officers conversed with foundry owners. Raven even spotted two men wearing religious insignia examining samples of enchanted ore.

Now he understood why Valeria had insisted on coming.

One signature here could accomplish what six administrative buildings had failed to do.

And Raven needed that signature tonight.

If he left without authorization, the situation changed.

Tomorrow, Orbrecht could deepen its objection.

Keller Mining could invalidate the stolen inspection permit.

North Shaft Seven could receive new guards.

The hidden high-purity vein could be sealed, relocated, or stripped of anything portable.

FORGE had finally narrowed the rifle’s third component from an entire region to one concealed vein.

Raven had no intention of letting bureaucracy—or a trafficking network—move it out of reach. ℯ

He accepted a glass of wine he had no intention of drinking and began observing the room.

Valeria noticed.

”Looking for Helmont?”

”Helmont, Keller, Orbrecht, and anyone who can sign strategic-material authorization.”

”That’s ambitious.”

”We have one evening.”

Valeria’s amusement faded slightly.

She understood the change in his tone.

”If Keller has already learned about Station Four—”

”Then someone in this room may already know our window is closing.”

”And if they haven’t?”

”We get there first.”

Valeria smiled faintly.

”That sounds more like you.”

Raven scanned the hall.

”What else?”

”Who watches whom. Who avoids whom. Who’s here for business and who only wants to look important.”

”That was surprisingly aristocratic.”

”That was basic intelligence work.”

”And what do you see?”

Raven subtly indicated a broad gray-haired man near a table of mineral samples.

”That man controls something.”

”Director Brannon Hale. Refiners’ Guild.”

”He controls less than he wants people to think.”

”Why?”

”He looks toward the man in green before answering technical questions.”

Valeria followed his line of sight.

”Maester Colven. Quality inspector.”

”Then Hale controls money. Colven controls information.”

Valeria looked at Raven.

He continued.

”The woman beside them doesn’t belong to the same group.”

”Mara Veyn.”

”She’s the important one.”

”How do you know?”

”She hasn’t tried to speak for two minutes, and the other two still check her reaction before committing to anything.”

Valeria took a second.

”She administers several refining plants. Handles contracts for three companies.”

”Can she authorize Black Mithril?”

”Not directly.”

”Can she get us to someone who can?”

”Yes.”

”Then we start with her.”

There was no reason to waste time climbing the social structure one conversation at a time if Raven could identify a faster route.

Valeria studied him.

”Since when do you know how to move through a room like this?”

Raven took the smallest possible sip of wine.

”Before Veyr.”

”That didn’t answer the question.”

”Black Hound.”

Valeria looked at him.

”I thought you killed people.”

”Sometimes we had to speak to them first.”

”At receptions?”

”Embassies. Political dinners. Corporate meetings. Military events. Private fundraisers. One art auction.”

”You don’t seem interested in art.”

”I wasn’t.”

”Then what were you doing?”

”Convincing a minister that his superior intended to sell him out.”

Valeria blinked.

”Did it work?”

”He gave us three accounts, two names, and access to an office.”

She stared at him for a moment.

”I’m going to have to stop assuming I know what you can do.”

”That would be efficient.”

Valeria smiled.

”Don’t abuse it.”

Raven started toward Mara Veyn.

Valeria moved with him.

Every minute spent on the wrong person was another minute Keller Mining had to learn that Station Four was gone.

The administrator appeared to be in her forties, with ash-blond hair and the expression of someone who disliked having her time wasted.

Raven respected that.

Valeria handled the introductions.

Mara recognized the von Nacht name immediately.

Raven was ignored for the first thirty seconds.

Perfect.

”I wasn’t aware your House had interests in Dunvar,” Mara said.

”Not officially,” Valeria replied. ”I’m here on personal business.”

Mara looked toward Raven.

Curiosity.

”Related to Mr. Ashford?”

Valeria smiled.

”Among other things.”

Mara’s attention shifted fully toward him.

”I heard your name today.”

Raven showed no reaction.

That mattered more than it had an hour ago.

If his name was already moving through Dunvar, so was the problem.

”Hopefully not too often.”

”That depends on your relationship with House Orbrecht.”

There it was.

And Raven still didn’t have the metal.