Distracted by the incident with the strange man Tobin—and more importantly, his dagger—Vivi took a second longer to respond than she should have. She forcefully shook away the uneasy feelings and refocused.

She tried to remember the advice Rafael had given her leading up to this meeting. He’d had plenty to say, both about how the Duke might act and how she should.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize on behalf of my apprentice and the man known as William Trent. I hope we can set aside those unfortunate events and come to a mutually agreeable solution, one that benefits both of our houses.”

The words—crafted by Rafael, of course—grated on her to speak, but she wasn’t here seeking pointless, vindictive satisfaction. She wanted to, with minimal headache and fallout, solve the feud between Duke Caldimore and William, and hopefully Saffra too. Though depending on whether the Duke truly believed Saffra had attacked his daughter, and perhaps whether Saffra had, that might be impossible. So getting William out of prison was her real goal.

“Indeed,” Duke Caldimore said. “I’m sure it is in neither of our interests for a feud to break out between two families of our standing.” He watched her carefully, walking out from behind his desk to stand beside it. “Particularly, it would be unwise of me to quarrel with a woman of your personal strength. I understand my family has already offered you insult during your passage to Meridian.”

His family. Meaning Barnaby. So the Duke had learned about that. Rafael had informed her, prior to this meeting, that the odds would be high. Enough time had passed that an event as significant as the Convoy’s derailing had reached properly informed ears; it had involved too many civilians to not spread like wildfire.

How much did he know, though? The intelligence Rafael himself had received, through his Web, was an accurate reporting of events—though the mage in question had simply been an ‘unknown demonic archmage’. That the Sorceress had returned certainly wasn’t what people had assumed.

Vivi briefly didn’t know how to respond, because she had little positive to say about Barnaby Caldimore. He had antagonized her and refused to allow his White Glove aid in the battle, instead staying holed up in the Lounge. But bringing up her distaste of that man wouldn’t help settle matters with the Duke.

She chose her words as tactfully as she could. “I would, indeed, prefer no further conflict between us,” she reiterated. “My previous interactions with your family notwithstanding.”

He seemed pleased that she didn’t try to deny his suspicion. She might have, but Rafael had insisted otherwise. The Duke was too intelligent to not make the obvious connection. There were only so many demonic archmages going around…as in two, total. A third and fourth—if she tried to pretend she and the Convoy mage were different—both matching the description of ‘short female with curled horns and long straight white hair’ didn’t strain credulity so much as break it entirely.

“I must congratulate you,” the Duke said. “Your long sabbatical proved fruitful. To climb a hundred levels, at your rank, would be an achievement, even across a century. Three hundred is breathtaking.”

Three hundred added to nine hundred…he believed her to be somewhere in the twelve hundreds. That was likely an underestimate of the power she had displayed. Thankfully, mages at twelve hundred and higher were so rare that their strength was poorly understood. She had one-shot the Ghul-Feather, but mages with proper preparation were perhaps the most likely class type to do that, even at an equal level to their opponent. Lifting the Convoy and placing it on its tracks was a more telling feat, but even another archmage might struggle to quantify what it revealed her as. Especially when specialties and skills muddied the water. Perhaps she possessed a high-level System-granted skill that improved only [Greater Telekinesis]. Strange, if so, but not outside the realm of possibility.

Rafael had told her to expect to be labeled as between twelve and thirteen hundred. Fourteen hundred put her on equal footing with Aeris, so that would be too unbelievable—people would default to reasonable explanations first, and a lower-level mage with a telekinesis specialty was much more probable than a peak-strength archmage appearing from nowhere.

Also possible was that the reports were dramatized. Who knew what really happened at the Convoy? Even Barnaby, Damon’s relative, could only be trusted to a degree.

Still, she didn’t want to give the Duke any ammunition, and being vague about one’s level was wholly standard; nobody would think twice if she refused to acknowledge how strong she was. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fire·net

“Your congratulations are appreciated,” was all she said.

The Duke studied her. “I must admit that seeing such monumental success in others has always stung my pride. I have long striven to reach that lofty achievement of a Title, but fallen short, despite all my efforts. What is it, do you think, that separates us?”

There was, interestingly, a hint of frustration, if not suppressed anger, in his voice.

Not for the first time, Vivi appreciated the aloof mask this body provided, because she briefly had no idea how to respond. “It changes by the person,” she eventually settled on. “There is no universal path to growth.”

The response felt underwhelming, and the Duke seemed to agree—though not because the words lacked insight.

“I suppose truth is often unsatisfying,” he said. “Alas, I digress, and when I said I wouldn’t waste your time. William Trent, and your…apprentice. I do so wonder how that came about, but it is not my place to question.”

He waited for her to explain. She didn’t.

He continued, “I am not a man to suffer disrespect, and far less one to meekly ignore an assault on my own flesh and blood. Yet I recognize the follies of youth. There are, however, mistakes that cannot be forgiven, even by age. Would you not agree? This young woman you’ve taken under your wing—she was given a privileged spot at the Institute, her tuition and supplies paid, an education that boys and girls across the world only dream of. And she returns that generosity by attacking a fellow student? My daughter. Perhaps she has grown with her time away and whatever hardship she faced following her expulsion. I can appreciate, even admire, a growth in one’s character. But to brush aside such grave offense merely because I was offered a token of apology? No, I do not think that will happen, Lady Keresi.”

Vivi stilled at the firm disgust in the Duke’s voice. Rafael had said that it was unlikely the man would apply much pressure, and that he might ignore Saffra’s involvement entirely. That the sum of coin they had offered would almost certainly sway his opinion in what was, ultimately, a debacle not worth feuding with a notable demonic house over. This was far more direct, and dismissive of the bribe, than Rafael had told her to expect.

“I don’t demand forgiveness for what transpired between your daughter and my apprentice.” Vivi’s tone was a shade colder than she knew it should be. “I merely wish to extend an apology. And bring a certain imprisonment to an end.”

“Hm. Yes. William, then. Do you personally find it outrageous, Lady Keresi, the demands I made of him? An apology for the slanderous words he offered me?”

Vivi knew not to answer that question honestly, but she really wanted to. That it was the social norm of this time period, and that he could have acted worse

, did not, in her eyes, absolve him. She just acknowledged the complexity of the situation, and that she couldn’t view his actions in the same light as if they had taken place back on Earth.

There was nothing keeping her from lying, thankfully.

“I do not,” she said.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I see.” Vivi suspected he had easily seen through the falsehood, despite her stoic mask. “I must say, nevertheless, that I find myself insulted by the offer. Not just for what it represents, but the sum itself. It is a paltry offering to sweep aside such a grave offense, no?”

Rafael had been nearly certain this man would go to lengths to avoid bad blood—essentially roll over, if in a way that preserved his dignity. Had Rafael’s appraisal of this man been so incorrect? She found that hard to believe.

So why? What did this behavior mean?

She wasn’t cut out for politics. Not at all. Because she didn’t know where to start when it came to untangling this mess, much less identifying the deeper motives of Duke Caldimore.

It took strength to muster her words, considering her growing irritation, but she managed. “If you find the sum paltry, I can double it,” she said. “Triple it. I will repeat: I simply want us to part on amiable terms.”

The Duke froze. That confirmed her suspicion: Rafael’s offer had most definitely not been paltry, and tripling it was obscene. Vivi didn’t care. She could earn nearly any sum back in a few hours or less. If throwing money at a problem could solve it, she would always attempt that first. Or, at least, in this situation she would.

But if the sum had been significant even to the Duke, why was he refusing? Even she could tell it wasn’t some attempt to extract more—he’d just wanted to goad her. This encounter wasn’t developing remotely how Rafael had said it would.

“I see. That is generous indeed,” the Duke said stiffly. “But my concerns remain unaddressed. Do you make it a habit, Lady Keresi, to throw coin at your problems until they disappear?”

She felt a frown tugging on her lips. She didn’t quite succeed at smoothing it away.

“It is not a habit, no,” she said flatly.

“Ah. I am uniquely honored, then.” He didn’t sneer—the man clearly wouldn’t escalate to outright hostilities with someone of her station, no matter what had happened to have him acting like this. But his tone made his thoughts clear. “I will consider your offer, Lady Keresi. Allow me two days to deliberate. Despite our differences in opinion, I do wish for our houses to remain on friendly terms.” Even Vivi could tell he wasn’t trying hard to sell that statement. “Thank you for gracing me with a conversation, Lady Keresi. It was illuminating.” He gestured at the door for her to leave. She suspected that was a snub in itself—how he didn’t offer to see her out.

Vivi knew there was nothing she could say to convince him, though she was tempted to double or triple the offer a second time, just to see whether drowning him in coin could help. But she felt like she was on unstable footing; something was off about this whole encounter. Retreating and reformulating her plan was clearly smarter.

And honestly, the needling, while not nearly as aggressive as it could’ve been, and not half of what Barnaby had given on the Convoy, had left her in a mood not particularly minded to finding a happy solution. Better to disentangle before she lost her temper.

Rafael opened the door for her, and they left. When they had departed the Wardens’ Guildhall and found privacy, he said immediately, “This is extremely concerning, my lady.”

“That didn’t go how you said it would.”

“No. But Duke Caldimore is certainly a cautious and politically keen man—or has been, his entire life. He even acknowledged you as potentially a fresh Titled returning from a long training sabbatical, yet all but insulted you to the face. With no knowledge of how you might react, or an accurate profile of your character. That goes beyond recklessness to near idiocy. Duke Caldimore is not an idiot.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Either that the offense offered by your apprentice and William is true, and so grave that his honor refuses to allow even the mildest and most necessary of concessions”—Rafael’s tone made it clear how much he thought that was the case—”or, and this is a rather unsubstantiated theory drawn merely from instinct: he no longer cares about the potential consequences, and was enjoying that, for once in a very long career, he needn’t bother with the pretense.”

That idea hadn’t even crossed her mind. “And that means?”

“Nothing good,” Rafael said grimly. “I need to contact some associates. I am unnerved by what I have seen this evening. We are lacking key information—that I am certain of.”

Vivi stayed silent for a moment. “That other man. Tobin.”

“A killer, and one who takes pride and enjoyment in his work,” Rafael said distractedly. “I have seen men with eyes like those before. As you have as well. I didn’t recognize him. Assassin? Or is that too much of an assumption?” He sounded like he was talking to himself. “Another missing piece? Mm, too much is unknown. I dislike this.”

“His dagger,” Vivi said.

Rafael paused, then looked at her. “He did bear daggers on either hip. What of it?”

Vivi pursed her lips. “You didn’t feel anything—strange?” She knew he hadn’t, by his reaction.

“I have little perception when it comes to the arcane, my lady.”

“No. It wasn’t magical.” She hesitated, and almost didn’t want to continue because of how strange she knew the words would sound. But not mentioning it would be beyond ridiculous; it might be crucially relevant to the Caldimore situation, somehow. “The dagger he wore on his right hip felt odd to me. Or rather, normal. Too normal.”

He waited for more, but that was it.

She grimaced. “Like it was mundane in some sort of…supernatural way.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know how to describe it, genuinely. It was disturbing.”

“An illusion or mental enchantment?”

“It was not magical, in any sense,” Vivi contradicted instantly, with complete certainty. “The impression was bizarre enough I double-checked my defenses; my mind wasn’t influenced. I wish I could have cast analysis spells on it, but my passive perception, at least, indicated no enchantments.”

“Then it was not magical,” Rafael said simply, trusting the instincts of the world’s most powerful mage. “Hm. I will think on that too, my lady, but I have little idea how it could relate.”

She didn’t either.

But whatever was happening, she had a bad feeling about it all.