Long minutes passed before the door finally opened again.

  The maid stepped inside, carrying a polished silver tray with a delicate porcelain teacup resting atop it. Without a word of apology for the wait, she moved gracefully to the table and set it down in front of Veronica.

  “Your chamomile tea,” she said smoothly.

  Veronica gave a small nod, picking up the cup. It was warm against her fingertips, the faint floral scent curling into the air.

  She took a sip.

  The warm tea soothed her throat. It was nice; pleasantly tasteful. Veronica knew this was still all part of the act, but the maid was good at making tea.

  Before she could enjoy another sip, the door opened once more.

  Baron Welterman strode into the room with effortless confidence, his presence commanding in a way that needed no theatrics.

  He was a man in his late thirties or early forties; well-kept, and undeniably handsome, with sharp features and a carefully maintained appearance. He was clean-shaven, with dark hair neatly combed back, giving him a youthful but also authoritative look. Silver accents embroidered a dark, finely tailored coat he wore.

  But what struck Veronica the most wasn’t his attire or his looks—it was the way he carried himself.

  Lofty. Self-assured. Like a man who was used to having everything go his way.

  Even a baron can act like this, huh?

  His gaze fell on her, assessing yet amused, and the smile tugging at his lips gave the immediate impression of someone who enjoyed playing with his words before speaking them.

  “Ah, Veronica Everwells, I presume?” His voice was smooth, almost lazy, as if this meeting was a casual indulgence rather than a formal summons.

  Veronica lowered her teacup, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “Just Veronica.”

  “Just Veronica,” the Baron echoed, tilting his head. His smile deepened as he crossed the room, lowering himself gracefully into the chair across from her. “And here I was expecting a grander title for a traveling mage. No grandmaster? No high sorceress? No ‘mistress of the arcane’?”

  Veronica arched a brow. “I prefer practicality. And… I’m not that great of a mage to bear such titles.”

  Past life, sure. She had even been called the ‘Witch of Ruin’ before. But right now? She was a nobody—a tier-1 mage.

  Welterman let out a soft chuckle, folding his hands in front of him. “A shame. Mages with a bit of flair tend to leave a lasting impression.”

  His smile turned into a smirk which lingered as his gaze swept over her once more, analyzing her from top to bottom. His eyes flicked back to her face, lips widening just a fraction, as if waiting to see if she would react.

  Veronica didn’t.

  If he expected her to react—to flinch, to avert her gaze, to pull at her clothes—he was wasting his time. The moment she showed any form of weakness was the moment he won. Nobles loved playing the background psychological games.

  She met his stare with flat indifference, keeping her posture neutral while taking another sip of her tea. He was trying to probe her. Make her feel uncomfortable. But she has been used to being looked up to, stared at, praised, feared, revered, and idolized. Enough fraternizing with nobility and aspiring mages made her used to such treatment.

  Though, it did not raise her impression of him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  After a long moment, the Baron exhaled through his nose, as if pleased, before settling back into his chair. “Mages are rare in towns like this. I make it a point to welcome them personally when they pass through.”

  His tone remained polite and warm, but Veronica knew.

  This is my town. I am the lord, and you are in my domain.

  Veronica sipped her tea. “Is that why you summoned me?”

  “Summoned?” Welterman laughed lightly. “No, no, invited.” His smile remained. “I simply wanted to get acquainted. After all, I hear you’ve already a great contribution to the guards and Captain Luthen at the barracks.” He gestured lazily.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Speaking of which, I must ask—what tier are you?”

  Veronica had no reason to lie. “First.”

  For a fraction of a second, she saw the flicker of realization in his eyes.

  Not very impressive.

  Not a threat.

  He smiled as if that answer had confirmed exactly what he wanted to believe. “Ah, still early in your journey, then. Nothing wrong with that. Magic is a long road, one that requires patience and—” he gestured vaguely, “—proper guidance.”

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  Veronica simply nodded.

  “Well then,” he mused, tapping a finger against the armrest, “perhaps an introduction is in order.”

  He turned his head toward the doorway. “Elise,” he called, voice laced with something almost indulgent. “Come here, my dear.”

  A moment later, the maid from earlier stepped inside, moving with the same poised elegance as before.

  Welterman extended a hand toward her, and as Elise stepped closer, his fingers slid along her lower back, guiding her closer to him.

  “This lovely woman is Elise,” the Baron said, his tone dripping with amusement. His hand lingered, resting on the side of her waist. “A most capable member of my household. She is under my employ for many things.”

  “Housekeeping,” he continued lazily, “protection… and, of course… other matters that would be un-befitting of me to mention with a guest,” he said with a chuckle.

  Elise, for her part, did not flinch. She stood poised and straight; her expression was unreadable.

  “And,” Welterman continued, reaching up to brush a loose strand of Elise’s dark hair behind her ear, “she also happens to be a Tier-2 mage.”

  He spoke with pride, as though her power was somehow his achievement.

  Veronica inclined her head slightly, keeping her voice neutral. “Impressive.”

  Welterman studied her, waiting, as if expecting some sign of admiration or intimidation. When she gave none, his smile widened slightly. “Unshaken,” he mused. “I like that.”

  With an easy grin, he waved Elise away. “Elise, you may go,” he said smoothly.

  With a small nod, the maid stepped away, exiting the room without a word.

  Welterman sat straighter, leaning forward slightly, his sharp gaze locking onto Veronica’s.

  Shifting to a serious tone, he spoke, “That’s enough about me.” He abandoned his playful aloofness. “Now… let’s talk about you. What exactly brings you to my town, Veronica?”

  Veronica met his gaze evenly, keeping her expression relaxed. “I’ve been on a long journey,” she said, shrugging slightly. “I wandered into Greystone by happenstance.”

  Welterman held her stare.

  “And where is this long journey taking you?”

  Veronica took a slow sip of her tea before answering. “Annesheim.”

  The Baron’s brows lifted slightly, though the amusement from before did not return. “Annesheim?” he echoed, his tone bordering on disbelief. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling thoughtfully. “That’s a long way from here.”

  Veronica tilted her head slightly, feigning ignorance as if only now considering it. “How long?”

  His eyes narrowed faintly, as if gauging whether she was truly so uninformed. “Several months, even by wagon or horse.”

  That gave Veronica pause. She had expected that Annesheim was far, but months? Even with transport? That’s how long it took regular folk to travel?

  Welterman studied her reaction. “Strange,” he said after a moment. “That you would set off on such a long journey without even knowing how far it is.”

  Veronica shrugged. “I’m not from around here, and I’m not in a rush. I’m just here to enjoy my journey. My end destination, however, is Annesheim.”

  Welterman’s gaze lingered on her, skeptical. For a moment, it seemed like he might press further, but instead he gave a quiet hum, fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood of the table.

  His expression eased into something more diplomatic, the sharpness in his eyes softening just slightly.

  “I must say, Veronica, I’ve heard quite a bit about you already,” he said, tilting his head. “A mage passing through Greystone who single-handedly brought down a dangerous beast is not something my guards see every day. Even Elise would have had to spend several minutes to subdue the thing. Alas, she was busy accompanying me when the brute breached the northern gate. By the time she arrived, everything had been taken care of.”

  Veronica inclined her head, offering neither confirmation nor denial.

  “Captain Luthen and Steward Hadrian spoke highly of you,” Welterman continued. “They mentioned your composure, your power, and willing need to help them even after everything had calmed.” He leaned back in his chair. “It left an impression.”

  He exhaled, folding his hands. “Unfortunately, while my guards are capable, they are not accustomed to dealing with such large threats. And as of late—” his voice lowered slightly, “—there have been issues.”

  “Issues?” Veronica echoed.

  “I assume you’ve heard the rumors by now,” Welterman said. “People going missing. A handful of townsfolk, a few travelers.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Likely bandits, or lesser monsters creeping too close to town. Goblins, wolves, perhaps worse. Nothing catastrophic—yet. But fear spreads faster than truth.”

  Veronica kept her expression neutral, though her attention sharpened. So he knows about the disappearances. But how much?

  “In three days,” Welterman continued, “Viscount Ronswick’s envoy will arrive.”

  Veronica remained still, already connecting the pieces.

  “I would prefer Greystone to be… settled before then,” he said, studying her. “I’m sure you understand.”

  She nodded slowly. “And you’d like my help.”

  “Yes.” He gestured lightly. “I’d like to hire you, in a sense. Assist my guards—help clear out any lesser monster nests in the nearby forest. Train them when possible.” His lips curved faintly. “Though, that last part is mainly Luthen’s request. I just want to reassure the people that Greystone is safe.”

  Veronica almost scoffed at how neatly he framed it.

  They’d feel a lot safer if you addressed the problem at its root. But she kept the thought to herself.

  “In exchange,” Welterman continued smoothly, “I’d be willing to compensate you. One thousand vix for your troubles.”

  A thousand vix.

  It wasn’t extravagant—not compared to the sums she’d handled as a Tenth-Tier Mage. But for a traveler with little to her name, it was more than fair.

  “And all you want,” Veronica said carefully, “is for me to help keep the town secure until the envoy arrives?”

  Welterman’s smile returned, just shy of a smirk. “That’s all.”

  Veronica sipped her tea, considering it.

  A bribe neatly packaged as civic responsibility.

  He wasn’t just asking her to hunt monsters—he wanted visible reassurance. A show of competence. Proof that Greystone was under control before another noble came to judge it.

  Realistically?

  She had no reason to refuse.

  The task aligned with her goals, kept her funded, and gave her a legitimate reason to move through the surrounding area. She could listen, observe, and even sneak around without excuse.

  Veronica let out a small, measured sigh, as if conceding. “Of course, Baron Welterman,” she said smoothly. “If I can help protect the town and be properly compensated, then I see no reason to decline. It seems like a winning situation for everyone.”

  Welterman’s smile widened.

  “Please,” he said, rising from his seat, his presence just as commanding standing as it was sitting. “No need for formalities. You may just call me Kaine, when we are in private.”

  Veronica mirrored him, standing as well. He extended a hand toward her, and she took it, shaking in agreement. His grip was firm but unhurried, lingering just long enough for it to be noted.

  Their business concluded, Welterman—Kaine, finally inclined his head. “It was a pleasure, Veronica.”

  He turned slightly. “Elise.”

  The Tier-2 maid stepped into the room.

  “Escort our guest out,” he instructed smoothly.

  Elise gave a slight bow before motioning for Veronica to follow.

  As she stepped through the grand hallways once more, her mind turned over the pieces of the game she was now a part of.

  Three days.

  In three days, Viscount Ronswick’s envoy would arrive.

  In three days, the cultists’ ritual would take place.

  It wasn’t a coincidence. And she had three days to find out why.

  As she followed Elise, her thoughts settled; her gaze lingered on the maid’s back.

  Perhaps it’s time for me to reach the second tier.