Footsteps echoed through the Vault as Councillors Chen and Blackwood entered with their entourage. Chen blanched at the sight of the broken wards while Blackwood's fury showed in her tightly pressed lips.

  "This is unprecedented," Chen murmured, his hand hovering near an empty case before pulling back, his fingers trembling.

  Blackwood strode past the damaged displays. "How could this happen? The Vault's defences—"

  Merle observed their reactions with a detached calm. Their concern was justified, but such overt displays of distress seemed unbefitting of Council members in a crisis.

  Councillor Reed strode forward, face contorted with rage as he pointed at the shattered wards, where faint crackles of magical residue still lingered.

  "This is unacceptable! We need stricter surveillance of practitioners below the Adept rank. Someone must answer for this."

  Merle's gaze flicked to his hands, noting the slight tremor beneath his forceful stance. This was Reed's typical response, swift calls for punishment over measured investigation.

  She watched the discord with practised neutrality, though her jaw tightened at Reed's words. His call for heightened surveillance was predictable, control thinly veiled as security. Around her, other councillors murmured in agreement, their old prejudices rising to the surface along with their fear.

  She'd seen it before: the closing of ranks, the reflexive suspicion cast on lower-tier practitioners. It was politically expedient but dangerously shortsighted. The Council's strength lay in order, not in reactionary policies that would only deepen the divide within the magical community.

  Despite their wisdom, her fellow councillors retreated to familiar patterns, choosing restrictions over truth. As Arbiter, Merle felt the weight of her duty, the need to remain clear-headed when others succumbed to fear.

  'No adept did this!' snapped Finn, waving his finger in Councilor Reed's face, 'Not one could have. This was no simple padlock they unlocked. Countless years of wards, layer upon layer. The finest minds built these and you say put controls on the lower tiers. Not one of you could have done this, not one!'

  "Why you little…." Reed Blanched, his face turning from red to purple as other voices joined his outrage.

  Merle raised her hand, silencing the voices. Her green eyes swept across the Council members, her expression calm and unwavering.

  "Panic and blame will only embolden our adversaries," she said, her measured tone slicing through the tension. "We must proceed with caution, not suspicion."

  She studied her fellow councillors, masking her disappointment as her words settled over them. Some Council members straightened, while others avoided her steady gaze. Reed's barely concealed scoff suggested he might mistake her restraint for weakness, but Merle held firm. Fear-driven decisions had no place in these halls.

  Her fingers traced the edge of her robes, a tell she'd never entirely managed to hide. The irony struck her, these same people who preached control and discipline now displayed neither. The Council needed to show a steadying influence more than ever, even if her colleagues had lost their way.

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  "Our focus must be on recovering what's been taken and strengthening our defences without compromising our integrity," Merle said, her quiet authority slicing through the lingering panic.

  She met each Council member's gaze, Chen's worry, Blackwood's intensity, Reed's frustration. Though they squirmed under her scrutiny, none looked away. She wouldn't let their fear dictate the response, not now when clarity mattered most.

  Let them bristle at her control, she thought. Let them mistake her composure for coldness. She hadn't maintained the Vault's order all these years by yielding to emotional outbursts. The artefacts would be recovered, but with the discipline their positions demanded.

  ****

  The chamber's doors opened, and Merle felt the atmosphere shift. The Grand Master entered, with Nathaniel Cross, Paragon of the Runeblades, beside him, their presence commanding immediate attention. Even Reed stilled.

  The Grand Master's weathered face remained composed as he surveyed the room, his gaze finally resting on Merle. He gave her a weighted nod of acknowledgement.

  "Arbiter Merle's judgment is sound," he said, his quiet voice carrying an authority that needed no force. "This is a time for discipline, not reaction. Let discretion and order be our guiding principles."

  A subtle weight lifted from Merle's shoulders. The Grand Master's support would quell any lingering doubts. With Nathaniel's steady presence beside him, she knew the Council would align with purpose.

  "But how are we supposed to recover these artefacts?" Chen demanded, his sharp gestures emphasizing his frustration. His gaze flicked to Nathaniel, a mix of disgust and fear flickering across his face, barely concealed. "The Runeblades excel at eliminating dark practitioners, but they are hardly detectives."

  Nathaniel said nothing. His steely gaze locked on Chen unrelentingly, the silence heavier than any reprimand. Whatever retort Chen had been forming died in his throat. He faltered, taking an involuntary step back as Nathaniel's stare pinned him in place.

  Merle felt a flicker of pity for Chen. She had been on the receiving end of that stare more than once. The head of the Council’s enforcers, the Runeblades, had more than earned his fearsome reputation—unyielding, especially when it came to protecting his own. Chen had clearly overstepped, and judging by the hard set of Nathaniel’s jaw, he was due to be reminded exactly who he was addressing.

  Reed cleared his throat, his voice cutting across the chamber. "Perhaps we should consider involving the Metropolitan Police," he suggested, adjusting his suit jacket. "Handle it as a standard burglary. Keep the Council's involvement minimal."

  Several heads nodded, but Merle's jaw tightened. It was typical of Reed to seek the quickest solution rather than the right one. Chen leaned forward, nodding in eager support, while Blackwood drummed her fingers against an empty case. She noted their anxious expressions as they avoided the Grand Master's gaze, their urgency for swift action as misguided as it was understandable.

  Merle stepped forward, her boots echoing on stone. The murmurs ceased as she faced the Council.

  "I suggest we engage Interpol," she said firmly. "They specialize in handling sensitive investigations discreetly, allowing us to maintain our distance while limiting exposure."

  Though working with any outside agency posed risks, involving local police would invite far greater dangers. Too many loose ends, too many opportunities for their secrets to slip through evidence rooms and careless whispers.

  Merle scanned the room, noting her fellow Council members' uneasy expressions. The burden of their ancient secrets weighed heavily as she pressed on.

  "The Met's too close to our London operations. Local investigations breed whispers and press coverage becomes inevitable. Interpol offers discretion and grants us control."

  She caught the Grand Master's eye, then Nathaniel Cross's subtle nod confirming her logic. The Davies incident from spring flashed through her mind; one detective's careless words had nearly unravelled a containment operation. Suppressing that mess had taken weeks.

  With Interpol, they could oversee every detail, keeping their world safely concealed beneath London's streets.

  Merle noticed Finn's slight weight shift and the familiar brush of his fingers over his sleeve's runic markings—subtle tells of his discomfort she'd learned to recognize.

  "With respect, Arbiter," he said quietly, "Interpol's reach may bring unwanted exposure. Outsiders have rarely served our interests."

  His genuine concern reflected years of safeguarding Council secrets. While Merle understood the Runeblades' traditional preference for isolation, she knew that accurate control sometimes required strategic alliances rather than complete detachment.

  "Interpol will see only what we choose to show them," she said firmly. "As far as they will know, the artefacts hold value beyond currency, but nothing more. We maintain discretion without risking exposure."

  Gradually, the Council's restlessness settled into quiet acceptance. Even Finn's posture softened, though a shadow of concern still lingered in his gaze.

  The Grand Master inclined his silver head, the Vault's dim light casting his face in solemn shadow. "Then it is settled. Arbiter Merle's judgment will guide us. Let discretion be our safeguard."

  His words brought a steady warmth to Merle's chest. Years of proven decisions had earned this trust. Her gaze swept the chamber, noting Reed's relaxed shoulders, Chen's stilled hands, and Blackwood's calm acceptance under the Grand Master's authority.

  Respectful silence blanketed the chamber—whether out of confidence in the Grand Master's leadership or reluctance to openly challenge him, she couldn't say. Yet the thought pressed forward, sharp and unyielding: Did the thief have inside help?