“You learned something concerning about the Caldimores?” Vivi asked, shifting in surprise. “What?”

“We’ll get there,” Rafael said. “What do you know of that house and its history?”

She thought for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “The name sounds the slightest bit familiar, but I might be imagining it.”

“Seeing how you’ve been gone for a century, that isn’t surprising. It was during that period they rose to prominence. The Caldimores were of mild relevance during the Cataclysm Campaigns, enough so you perhaps heard mention of them, but they weren’t important enough that their name would stick in your mind, occupied as you were with,” he paused, “world-ending threats, and other such events. The house patriarch, Marquess Dorian Caldimore, died in the final assault on the Ashen Hierophant’s domain, as so many others did. As did the Marquess’s brother, his wife, three of his four sons, and indeed most of the Caldimore line. Even for an assault against a Cataclysm Monarch, their house suffered grievous losses that day.”

Despite her suspicions and general disapproval of Duke Caldimore, she winced at Rafael’s words. “Three of his four sons. And the one who lived?”

“Indeed—a certain Damon Caldimore. Now Duke, elevated for his years of service both during and succeeding the Cataclysms. A man who dragged his crumbling but respected house from the brink of extinction into dukedom.”

She grimaced. It had been easier to automatically dislike Duke Caldimore when she hadn’t known he was a war veteran whose entire family, or near enough, had died in service of saving humanity. Then clawed his way back up not just to where his family had previously stood, but further still.

“He’s high level then, if he’s that old.”

She had assumed Duke Caldimore to be a man in his forties or fifties, perhaps, but that had been founded on nothing. It made more sense, in fact, that he was old, considering his importance.

“Middle orichalcum. Respectable, but not particularly high. Enough to slow that inevitable fate of humanity. He has a number of decades left, though he’s well beyond his golden years. Hm. Other background you should know: Duke Caldimore has scant few direct relatives. His eldest son died fighting an undead horde that spewed from a dormant Crypt of the Regent. His eldest daughter fell to a similar fate—a naga raid. His first wife passed from sickness before either of them. His second marriage was for political purposes; he and the Duchess have a professional, allegedly cold, relationship, and little else. His youngest daughter, and only living child, Isabella, he sees a few months out of the year. They are not close, according to my intelligence.”

Vivi closed her eyes. Having a bleak past—and this went beyond bleak—didn’t forgive a person’s actions, but still. It could explain plenty, nearly his entire family dying not just once, but twice.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“This is the man you are at odds with, no matter the yet-revealed reasons, or whether his actions are justified. It would be unwise not to have a cursory understanding of his history.” He leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. “The following, however, is a warning. The Caldimores are important enough that I was keeping tabs on them as a matter of routine, but they were not under any particular scrutiny of mine. While their house had a number of questionable dealings and events of minor to moderate political drama, all houses do. Much less a ducal family with heavy mercantile ties. I have been looking into Duke Caldimore’s affairs more closely and have grown…uneasy at what I found.”

“Uneasy?”

“I despise presenting suspicions rather than evidence,” Rafael said, grimacing. “But I have had very little time to pry. Duke Caldimore’s behavior has changed over the past months. Large loans made without investments to justify them, erratic traveling patterns, and, though I can’t imagine what this implies…the Wardens’ vault has been frozen.”

“Frozen?”

“Apparently, adventurers have not been allowed inside or out for the past thirty-six hours. I genuinely have no idea what that could mean, but it is—strange. Very strange. And strange is always worrying.” His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “I fear I have nothing concrete, as I said. But my greatest evidence, ironically, is you.”

“Me?”

“For better or worse, my lady, where you tread, the world trembles. And you have somehow thrown yourself into the midst of intrigue with a major ducal household via your apprentice—an apprentice you claimed rather suddenly, I might mention. I have long wondered, as we all have, whether Fate truly twists Her long fingers into that grand tapestry for the raucous amusement of Her fellow gods, but if She does, these coincidences have all the warning signs of a brewing catastrophe. Just earlier, Isabella Caldimore ‘found’ your apprentice in the library. What a lovely happenstance, that.”

“I was thinking that myself,” Vivi said.

“So yes. Something has my skin prickling, however little true evidence exists. Aberrant behaviors, and inadequate methods of guarding them by a normally careful man, speak, to me, of plans coming to fruition. Of less need to obscure his actions. And a plan by one of the most powerful men in the Kingdoms is something to fear—not that I will insist any such thing is truly happening, or that Duke Caldimore is a villain of any sort. There are no concrete indicators…but equally so, he is a capable man and may merely have hidden them carefully. I am not all-seeing and all-reaching, my lady. In any case, I will implore you one last time to treat this meeting with caution. Even if you may not come to an amiable solution with the Duke, do not escalate until I, or you, better understand what these omens mean.”

“Yes, yes. I know. I won’t curse the entire Caldimore bloodline; I wouldn’t have to begin with.”

In the worst of cases, she would take things into her own hands and break William out of prison. That would have fallout, but not on the level of assaulting a respected Duke.

“Very well. I won’t insist further. I do have a request, though.”

“What is it?”

“Might I oversee the meeting while masquerading as your attendant?”

Vivi paused. “If the Duke finds out you’re wearing an illusion, that won’t end well.”

“I think it worth the risk. I need to observe him. That way, even if this meeting ends poorly, I will have gathered information. So much can be gleaned from so little, if you have keen eyes.” He flicked his hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s not an illusion I will use.” He withdrew a purple potion and waggled it. “Transmogrification is much more reliably deceptive. I would know.”

“I would still sense the lingering magic in your blood,” Vivi pointed out. Though maybe not passively…she might have to cast an analysis spell. That was a high-level potion, definitely made by Mae, and thus subtle even to her.

“Our opponent, though formidable and well-connected, is not the Sorceress,” Rafael said dryly. “There is a risk, but a small one. For that matter, you will want to conceal yourself as well. I doubt you had personal dealings with Duke Caldimore pre-Turning, but your face, while obscure relative to your name, is far from unknown. Much of your anonymity stems from the sheer unlikeliness of you being who you are. The Duke is intelligent enough to ignore that instinct, and accept the possibility that the Sorceress has returned—and is indeed standing in his office. Best to come prepared.”

Vivi wrinkled her nose. “Fair enough.”

“You have no objections to the plan?”

“No.” That Rafael would be with her alleviated some of her concerns. Her interactions with important people so far had either been trivial, or had been with friendly faces. That wouldn’t be the case for this upcoming talk. “Let’s go see the Duke,” she sighed, “and find out if we’re being paranoid.”

***

By size and ostensible wealth, the guildhall of the Wardens—and thus the guildhall of the most successful human guild in the world—put Vanguard’s to shame.

Striding through the large, swung open double doors, through which traffic streamed at a steady pace, Vivi was met with a staggeringly grand lobby.

The space reminded her more of a bustling high-class bank foyer than a guildhall. Maybe because Vanguard was her standard, which had catered to a sum total of five adventurers, eight craftsmen, and a steward, the nearly corporation-sized lobby took her by surprise. There were more people inside than in the main Adventurer’s Guild back at Prismarche. Nearly a hundred, surely, and that was just the lobby. How many more in the various facilities or members-only common rooms?

There were no less than four orichalcums scattered throughout, and several times that wearing blue badges. The Wardens weren’t just numerous; the guild clearly sported strong

—for this world’s standard—adventurers too. Even the green badge Vivi wore didn’t draw much attention. The gazes she did pull were probably because her face was unknown; nobody was impressed by her rank itself. And orichalcum should be impressive.

Before she could gawk—not that her face betrayed her interest—at the vaulted marble ceilings, extravagant paintings, velvet seating, and masterfully carved receptionist desks, she caught sight of a woman hurrying over.

“Lady Keresi?” asked the black-haired woman in a professional-looking blouse and skirt, a clipboard in her hand.  Apparently, the Wardens had been expecting her, and a high-orichalcum demonic noble of the First Blood was, reasonably, someone worth posting a lookout for.

“I am she,” Vivi responded.

“We are so honored to have you.” She curtsied. “I’m Hazel. Please, Duke Caldimore should be available. Can I take you to him?”

“That is acceptable.”

The woman curtsied again, then led them through the expansive interior of the guildhall. Though the building fit easily in the plot next to Vanguard’s, the spatial expansion magic allowed for a veritable campus inside. They were walking for a solid minute before Hazel brought her and Rafael to their destination.

The receptionist slipped inside, and a brief exchange followed. She returned and ushered them in.

Vivi laid eyes on Duke Caldimore for the first time.

He was tall—imposingly so. Everyone made Vivi feel short, but Duke Caldimore especially so, halfway between six and seven feet. He was well-built, too, with broad shoulders and thick arms, which stood out more since Vivi’s first encounter with a Caldimore had been the portly Barnaby. Vivi’s expectations had inevitably been colored by that, but well-groomed, serious, with dark hair and dark intelligent eyes, the older man struck a stark and immediate impression. And he was an older man, however healthy and hale his figure. Late sixties by appearance, though she knew he’d acted as a warrior in the Cataclysms Wars—so over a hundred and twenty in reality. Updates are released by novelFirｅ.net

Notably, his appearance and demeanor didn’t instantly invoke some ominous, villainous atmosphere. She felt rather silly for thinking it would. Rafael had said this man had a good, though not stellar, reputation—he was a respected war veteran running the world’s most powerful human guild. Even if he was a villain, Vivi wouldn’t be the one to sniff him out the second she met him. She had average instincts or worse when it came to people.

Internally, Vivi grimaced at the idea he might not be some ultimate villain. Duke Caldimore had some condemning stains on his record so far as she was concerned, considering how he had thrown William in jail, but even she had to begrudgingly admit that was how things worked in this time period. The action didn’t speak well of him, but she reluctantly knew that viewed objectively, neither did it particularly speak poorly of him by the current social standard. Of course high nobility were prickly about their image.

“Lady Nysari Keresi,” the Duke said smoothly. “A pleasure. I have long heard of the fearsome House of Keresi, and I am honored to meet one of their most promising scions in the flesh.”

Vivi distractedly returned a much less flowery greeting. Because there was another man in the Duke’s office, and her eyes had drifted to him, dispelling whatever focus she might have mustered for what should be, at that moment, much more important.

This other man was shorter, though still tall. He had dirty-blond hair underneath a black tricorn hat. A leather coat dropped down to his knees, worn over a gray tunic, and his black pants were tucked into scuffed boots. Something about him pinged those embedded, passive senses of hers, warning her: danger.

Not real

danger, of course, not to her, but definitely not someone to take lightly. She couldn’t even say whether it was because she had intuited that he was Titled—though he wore no adventurer's badge whatsoever—or whether it was his appearance that had struck an immediate, uncomfortable chord. The look in his eyes, and the way he held himself. She didn’t have a way to detect a person’s level, unfortunately; that came down to a best guess, even for her.

Even that interesting impression, she paid little attention to. Because her gaze had caught on his belt and found something much more fascinating.

A dagger hung there.

A dagger.

A…normal, sheathed dagger. Nothing unusual about it whatsoever.

She sensed no enchantments through the leather holder identifying it as a high-level piece of gear, but that wasn’t strange. When a person didn’t want their equipment appraised, even Vivi couldn’t bypass that, not passively.

But where it wasn’t odd for her to look at an object and sense nothing aberrant about it, this was different. Completely. Because when she looked at the dagger…

…she sensed that there was nothing strange about it.

The bizarre, blatantly contradictory thought briefly inspired panic, and she checked her mental defenses. [Mind Fortress] remained active, and unless some rogue element had applied twentieth-tier mental magics on the item or her—which nothing short of a Cataclysm could have managed—she definitely wasn’t compromised.

But the dagger was normal.

Mundane.

Regular.

She sensed nothing strange about the dagger.

But not in the way of any other piece of gear. Not like every other bland object anywhere else in the world.

“Lady Keresi?” Rafael—disguised as her attendant—asked.

She tore her attention away, skin prickling all over. It took her a second to come back to reality.

Was she going insane? Why was the dagger so normal? She checked her mental defenses a second time, and a third. She was fine. Something else was going on, but she had no idea what.

“My apologies,” Vivi said to Duke Caldimore. “Who is your guest?”

Duke Caldimore watched her steadily. Vivi realized she’d probably ignored whatever he had said to her. Whatever he made of her lapse in attention, though, he didn’t show on his face. “This is Tobin. He was just leaving.”

The man didn’t respond right away, his gaze on Vivi, and not in the appraising way of Duke Caldimore’s. His dark green eyes sparkled with interest—and there was something in them that unnerved her. He had either sensed something about Vivi or found her reaction to his dagger very interesting.

“So I was. It was lovely meeting you, though.” His lips pulled up in something that couldn’t quite be called a smile. Vivi’s skin crawled.

Duke Caldimore watched Tobin leave, eyes narrowing slightly. When the door closed, the Duke spared a quick glance at Rafael, who’d quietly moved to the side of the room and made himself invisible. His gaze didn’t linger; it turned straight back to Vivi. There was nothing odd about an attendant being present for this meeting, as nothing particularly sensitive should be broached during it.

“This will be brief,” Duke Caldimore said. “It was impressed upon me how busy you are. I am not a man flush with leisurely hours either. So: to the matter at hand, Lady Keresi. It seems there was an incident between us that you would like to bring to an amenable conclusion, yes?”