Kirias arrived at the estate with time to spare. Even by the standards of the upper district, the property was vast, dwarfing his own manor in both scale and obvious displays of wealth. The guards stationed at the iron gates were a cut above the standard patrols he had seen earlier; their gear was of noticeably higher quality, and their aura was stronger.
He didn't offer a greeting. Instead, he simply produced the invitation. One of the guards took the letter, his eyes moving from the wax seal to Kirias's hooded silhouette.
"You must be the guest the Viscount invited," the guard said, his tone professional but edged with a hint of curiosity as he handed the letter back. "He has been expecting you. Please, proceed."
The gates groaned open, revealing a long, manicured path leading toward the main house. Kirias stepped through, his boots clicking against the stone. He was now within the Viscount's grounds, where the rules of the street no longer applied.
The path toward the manor was lined with statues carved from obsidian and marble, their poses rigid and commanding. The grounds were bustling with silent activity. Servants tended to the exotic flora of the garden, moving quietly and making almost no noise. Not one of them looked up as he passed.
As he entered the foyer and moved down the hallways, he saw the walls were covered with portraits of lizardmen. They were likely the previous generations of the family. Their reptilian eyes seemed to follow him, their expressions cold and stern. Beside the paintings, other displays of wealth like silver-trimmed statues and ancient artifacts sat on stone pedestals.
As he approached the massive doors at the end of the hall, Kirias tightened his grip on the glass chalice. He had seen enough to know that this house valued tradition and strength above all else. He took a final breath and prepared to meet the latest link in that long, cold chain.
The attendant opened the double doors, and Kirias stepped into a large dining hall. At the far end of the table sat the Viscount.
Kirias couldn't quite tell if he was a warrior or an academic; he wasn't familiar with the lizardmen enough to judge by anything other than scale. The Viscount looked physically capable, but his most notable trait was the aura he emitted. Even without trying to sense it, Kirias could feel a steady, heavy pressure coming from the man.
The Viscount didn't speak immediately. He simply gestured toward a seat opposite him.
Kirias took the seat, keeping his movements calm. Before the silence could stretch on for too long, he placed the glass gift on the table and pushed it forward.
"A token of my appreciation for the invitation, Viscount Rael Den Suriol," Kirias said, his voice neutral.
The Viscount looked down at the swirling patterns in the glass, his reptilian eyes narrowing as he inspected the craftsmanship. He didn't reach for it immediately. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze shifting up to meet Kirias's hooded face.
Viscount Rael Den Suriol was not what Kirias had anticipated. Instead of the cold, stiff aristocrat suggested by the portraits in the hall, the man was hearty and boisterous. He leaned forward with a wide, toothy grin that seemed genuine, though Kirias didn't lower his guard. Behind that lively expression, he could sense a sharp, calculating mind watching for any sign of weakness.
"You'll forgive the curiosity," Rael began, his voice deep and resonant. "But it isn't every day a hooded elf makes his way into my dining hall. Is there a reason you prefer the shade of that cloth even indoors?"
"Personal reasons and traditions of my kind, Viscount," Kirias replied smoothly. "I hope you can overlook the breach of etiquette."
Rael laughed, a short, barking sound. "Elves. A strange bunch, the lot of you. Very well, keep your secrets. My curiosity is sated for now." He leaned back, his eyes tracking Kirias's every movement. "Tell me then, what brings one such as yourself to this city, Caldris? And why did you approach the Iron Scale Guild, of all places?"
"I am a traveling scholar by trade," Kirias said, sticking to his prepared cover. "I tend to stay in one location for a few months—usually two to four—before the itch to move on takes hold. As for the guild, it provided me the means I needed for my current pursuit."
Rael hummed, tapping a clawed finger against the table. "And what pursuit is that? Your glass-making has already caused quite a stir among the merchants."
"I had a hunch," Kirias said, meeting the Viscount's gaze. "A feeling that the Saintess would be visiting this city soon. I want to meet her, and I intend to do so by presenting her with glasswork that is, quite simply, the best in the world."
Rael's hearty laugh filled the room, but he didn't look away from the glass chalice Kirias had placed on the table.
"Hoho, if your glass is as good as you claim, you might indeed get the chance," the Viscount said, finally reaching out to pick up the gift. He held it up to the light, turning it slowly. "The Church has high standards, and the Saintess even higher. But this... this is unlike any work I've seen in the capital, let alone this city."
He set the glass down and leaned in, his expression shifting from jovial host to a man discussing business. "However, a 'hunch' is a dangerous thing to bank a reputation on. People might wonder how a traveling scholar knows the movements of the Church before the official heralds even arrive."
Kirias remained still. He knew this was the trap. The Viscount was testing to see if Kirias was a spy or simply a very lucky opportunist.
"I have my ways, Viscount," Kirias replied, keeping his voice flat.
Rael stared at him for a long moment, his yellow eyes unblinking. Then, the tension broke as he let out a short, amused huff. Before the nobleman could press further, the large double doors at the side of the hall opened.
A line of servants entered, carrying silver platters. The aroma of roasted meats and seasoned vegetables filled the room, momentarily cutting through the heavy atmosphere. They set the dishes down—thick cuts of seared meat for the Viscount and a lighter, more delicate arrangement for Kirias.
The Viscount picked up his cutlery, the hearty grin returning to his face as if the previous conversation had never happened.
"Well," Rael said, gesturing toward the spread. "For now, a man must eat. Let us see if my chef's talents can live up to your taste."
The meal proceeded in relative silence at first, the food living up to the estate's reputation. The meat was tender and seasoned with spices Kirias didn't recognize, though his focus remained on his host.
Rael kept the conversation light, moving away from the interrogation. He asked for Kirias's impressions of the city, comparing its architecture and layout to other places he had allegedly visited. Using Maya's memories, Kirias provided clean answers. He spoke of distant trade hubs and coastal cities with enough detail to satisfy a curious noble, painting the picture of a man who had seen much and settled nowhere.
Just as the plates were being cleared, the dining hall doors opened again. A lizardwoman dressed in elegant, flowing silks entered the room. Her presence was poised, her scales polished to a dull sheen under the mana-lamps.
Rael stood immediately, his hearty persona shifting into something more attentive. He greeted her with a nod of genuine affection before turning back to Kirias, a look of sudden realization crossing his face.
"Ah, where are my manners?" Rael said, gesturing toward her. "This is my wife, Elara. And her timing is perfect."
He leaned back, his boisterous smile replaced by a more focused, business-like expression. He tapped the table as if he had just remembered the true purpose of the afternoon.
"Actually, Kirias, seeing her reminds me," Rael said, his voice dropping a semi-tone. "While I am certainly interested in your glass, I didn't invite you here today solely to admire your craftsmanship or hear of your travels."
Rael's wife, Elara, offered a polite nod as she approached the table. She carried a simple wooden box. Rael watched her with a prideful expression before turning his attention back to Kirias.
"My wife has a dear friend who gifted her a unique artifact," Rael explained, his voice becoming more serious. "It is said to be of elven origin, a piece of ancient craftsmanship. However, it has broken down."
He gestured to the box as Elara placed it on the table between them.
"Given your heritage and you being a scholar, I thought you were the perfect person to take a look at it," Rael continued. "The local mages are skilled enough, yet they lack the magic of the elves. No one was able to fix it."
"May I?" Kirias asked.
Elara nodded, her expression hopeful. "Please. It was a very precious gift."
Kirias looked at the box. Inside lay a delicate pendant made of a pale, frosted metal that seemed to pull at the surrounding light.
He looked up at the Viscount, his expression unreadable behind the hood.
"I will need to use magic to identify the problem," Kirias said, his voice steady. "With your permission, I would like to use a small amount of magic to diagnose the issue."
Rael leaned back, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He raised a hand toward the guards at the door and then gave a sharp nod to Kirias.
"You have my permission. Go ahead."
Kirias turned back to the pendant, channeling a thin, needle-like thread of mana from his fingertip to the pendant. The room fell silent as he worked.
The issue was quite straightforward: the internal circuits had simply broken down from wear and tear. As he traced the pathways, he realized the pendant was ancient, likely thousands or even tens of thousands of years old. Its original purpose was to allow the wearer to cast a specific type of magic, a style of craft Kirias had never encountered before.
The discovery gave him a rare bit of insight into genuine elven spellcraft. He memorized the patterns before quickly mending the broken connections. Once the mana flow was steady again, he withdrew his energy and pushed the box back toward Rael.
"It is done," Kirias said. "It was simply time that damaged the artifact."
Rael's eyes widened as the pendant began to emit a soft, steady glow. He looked from the artifact to Kirias, his expression one of genuine impressed wonder.
"So the rumors are true after all," Rael said, his voice dropping to a respectful tone. "Elven control over mana is perfect. I could feel no mana being emitted from you at all, even as you worked."
He reached out and picked up the pendant, handing it to his wife, who looked at it with a relieved smile. Rael then turned back to Kirias, his hearty persona returning, though now with a new level of professional respect.
"You have done me a great service today, Scholar Caldris," Rael said. "The local mages would have spent weeks poking at it with no results. To fix something so ancient in a matter of minutes... it confirms everything I've heard."
He leaned forward, his expression turning solemn. "I am a man of my word. You want the Saintess, and you have the skill to back it up. When the time comes and her procession enters the city, I will ensure you have the patronage you need to stand before her. My name will open those doors for you."
Kirias gave a slow, measured nod. "I appreciate your assistance, Viscount."
He realized then that his excuse had backfired. At the time, he legitimately couldn't think of any feasible reason for a travelling scholar to be starting a business in the city other than the arrival of the Saintess. It had been the perfect lie to satisfy the Viscount's curiosity, but now, it had created a far more dangerous reality.
"Don't mention it," Rael said, standing up to signal the end of the meeting. "But do keep that hood low for now. The city is about to get very crowded, and a man with your talents will be a prize many will want to claim."
Kirias was soon escorted back out through the manor and into the bright light of the upper district. As the heavy iron gates clicked shut behind him, he began the walk back to his own estate, his mind already racing.
By claiming the saintess as his goal, he had tied his reputation to her arrival. Now, with a Viscount personally promising to usher him into her presence, avoiding the Saintess was going to be much harder than he had ever intended.