Luenor remained still as the healer worked with a quiet focus, carefully wrapping the bruised edge of his collarbone in fresh bandages. The sting of the ointment brought a cool relief to the torn skin, but the tension in the room was a different story. The flickering firelight danced across the polished bluestone tiles of the private chamber, its warm glow casting shadows on the crimson drapes adorned with the silver-stamped crest of House Vescana.
Opposite him, Lady Eloria Vescana stood with her arms crossed, her emerald gown shimmering in the firelight. Her expression was calm, but it was a calm that felt more like a calculated mask than genuine ease.
"I'm truly sorry for the attack, Lord Sureva," she finally said, her voice steady. "I take security very seriously. If I had known—"
"You didn't know," Luenor interrupted, his tone even but lacking any warmth. "And yet, it still happened."
Eloria's jaw tightened at his words. She hesitated, weighing her options—whether to defend herself or simply accept the criticism. In the end, she opted for silence.
"You've distanced your house from Duke Siegfreed lately," Luenor continued, finally meeting her gaze. "It would be unfortunate if anyone interpreted that shift as a sign of weakness."
His words hit harder than the previous ones. Eloria pressed her lips into a thin line before giving a brief, graceful nod.
"Understood. I'll instruct my steward to triple the guard rotation around the estate. What happened is a breach I won't allow to happen again."
"It better not."
The healer finished up and bowed as he left, leaving the two of them alone in the room's flickering stillness. Luenor shifted slightly, feeling the raw pull beneath the bandage. He leaned forward.
"There's something else we need to discuss."
Eloria raised an eyebrow, though a hint of weariness was evident on her face.
"I need a list of every guest who attended tonight's auction," he stated, his tone polite but with an underlying firmness. "All of them. No exceptions."
Eloria blinked in surprise. "That information is confidential. Some attendees value their privacy when—"
"I'm not Alfrenzo," Luenor interjected, his voice low yet sharp. "But I stand in for him. You invited us here on his behalf. That favor has already been tested enough for one night."
She held his gaze for a moment longer, her silence more about weighing her options than outright defiance—considering what she might lose. Finally, she turned to the servant standing discreetly by the wall.
"Bring me the complete guest list," she instructed firmly. "From the gallery level. Right away."
The servant bowed and hurried off.
Eloria clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "Despite what transpired… I hope this incident won't cloud your perception of House Vescana."
Luenor didn't give her an easy response. "My people were harmed in your corridor," he replied. "If this is what you call hospitality in Vescana, I'll think twice about coming back."
She took a slow breath, but again, she didn't defend herself.
Luenor stood up.
"While we wait for the list, there's something else I need."
"The pill I bought," Luenor said, his tone curious. "The Crimson Vein. Who was the supplier?"
That question seemed to catch her off-guard. She shifted her posture slightly. "The auction master would have that information."
With a sharp clap of her hands, she summoned the tall, impeccably dressed auction master, who appeared almost instantly. He bowed deeply, his eyes darting between the two of them.
"The Crimson Vein," Eloria continued. "Who brought it here?"
The auction master rubbed the back of his neck, clearly wishing he had come better prepared. "It's a rather… unusual case, my lady. The item was submitted by a giant."
Luenor raised an eyebrow. "A giant?"
"Yes, my lord. He was tall—well over seven feet. Had polished manners, wore formal robes, and spoke with the clarity of a trained orator. He brought the item himself, paid the consignment fee upfront, and provided all the necessary documentation."
Luenor remained silent, but the auction master, sensing the weight of that silence, pressed on.
"We were surprised too, but the item was thoroughly verified. It's legal and potent. He even left a note saying that if the buyer wanted more, they could find him."
"You didn't mention this earlier," Luenor said, his voice sharp.
"My sincerest apologies, my lord. The report was supposed to be delivered in full, but then the attack happened… things got chaotic."
Both Eloria and Luenor shot him the same unimpressed look.
"Where is he now?" Luenor asked.
"He mentioned he'd be staying outside the southern gates, near the old marble quarry. In a grove beside the spring-fed glade. He said he'd remain there for two weeks."
Luenor nodded faintly. "That will do."
The auction master bowed again and was dismissed.
Shortly after, the guest list arrived, rolled up and sealed with Vescana's sigil. Luenor tucked it into his travel coat without even glancing at it. The weight of the night was starting to settle into his limbs.
"I'll retire now," he said.
Eloria nodded respectfully. "I'll have a meal arranged for your journey in the morning."
As Luenor turned to leave, she called out to him once more.
"Lord Sureva," she said, softer now. "I meant it. I'm truly sorry for what happened under my roof. And… I hope you will not remember my house only for this failure."
Luenor glanced back over his shoulder. "That really depends on what happens next."
And then he walked away.
-----
The halls were eerily quiet as he made his way back to the guest quarters. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished stone. Once he stepped into his room, he poured himself a glass of rich dark peach brandy and settled by the window, allowing the cool night breeze to brush against his face.
Below, the Vescana gardens sparkled, glistening with dew under the gentle glow of floating mana orbs that hovered like delicate lanterns above the hedgerows.
His thoughts began to drift.
The masked assailant had taken them by surprise, showing no hesitation whatsoever. It wasn't sheer brute force or flames—though he did wield magic—but rather a chilling precision. He didn't burn to kill; he burned to incapacitate. To humiliate.
Luenor didn't even notice when he slipped into sleep. The knock on his door came just after dawn.
A maid stepped in. "Viscountess Eloria requests your presence for breakfast, my lord."
He washed up quickly, slipping into a fresh navy tunic that concealed the bruises beneath layers of linen. He joined the others in the sunlit breakfast hall. Faren, Lyssari, and Arwin were already at the table. Arwin looked pale but composed, his arm in a sling. Faren gave a small nod as Luenor entered, while Lyssari offered a weary but genuine smile.
Eloria was already seated at the far end, a long table spread out between them. Next to her sat a young boy with wild brown curls, no older than five, who was fidgeting with a golden spoon.
"Lord Sureva," Eloria said with a warm smile. "Please, come and join us."
The table was a feast for the eyes, laden with roast duck glazed in honey, warm rice bread slathered with clove butter, berry tarts, fresh pears, and chilled nectar.
"Your son?" Luenor inquired as he settled into his seat.
Eloria nodded, a hint of pride in her voice. "Yes, this is Alwen."
The boy peeked over the edge of the table, his eyes wide with wonder.
Lyssari beamed and gave him a little wave. "Hello, Alwen."
He studied her closely. "You're an elf."
Caught off guard, Lyssari stammered, "Um—yes, that's right."
The boy nodded seriously, then turned to Faren. "You too."
Faren chuckled, clearly amused. "Very observant."
Eloria let out a soft sigh. "He notices everything. I did tell him not to ask questions at the table."
"I don't mind," Lyssari replied, her cheeks tinged with a blush.
The meal unfolded in an unexpectedly peaceful manner. The conversation flowed easily. Arwin showed Alwen how to fold napkins into little ships, which the boy attempted—albeit clumsily—before bursting into giggles at his own efforts.
But as time passed, the hour grew late.
Luenor stood up.
"Thank you," he said simply. "For the breakfast. And for your cooperation."
Eloria rose as well. "May your journey back to Echlion be swift and safe. And Lord Sureva—if you need anything else, House Vescana is at your service."
Then, a beat later, softer, "And again, I am sorry."
This time, Luenor gave a faint nod of acknowledgment.
He turned to the boy. "Grow up sharper than your mother."