"This isn't Erith..."

Ozahr tried to hop in front of the people passing on the street to ask them for directions, but no one so much as flinched when they quickly pivoted away from him, pretending they couldn't hear Ozahr.

"E-excuse me... Sir, Madam? I seem to be... lost, uh—" He turned from person to person, hoping someone would slow down. "I'm the Spell Knight of Cadmia, where—er, where am I? Has anyone got a... a map? No?" His questions grew quiet when he realized no one would be stopping.

All of a sudden, Ozahr was knocked off his feet when someone bumped into him. "Oh, my apolo—" He turned around to see who it was, but the stranger quickly ran away with Ozahr's suitcase in his hands.

"Hey!" He yelled after him and began to raise his arm to gather magic. All the people nearby scattered. Ran away from the streets back into their homes, in hiding.

Huh? Ozahr lowered his hand. I wasn't going to hurt him... He figured the crowd here was not used to magic, but it was something else that scared them all away.

The galloping of horses and the heavy wheels of a carriage approached from behind.

"Clear the way!" yelled the coach driver.

"W-wait!" Ozahr waved his arms. "I need assistance!"

The driver stopped abruptly, likely tossing his passenger forward inside the grand carriage covered with red curtains. He gave Ozahr a nasty look and sharply looked behind him.

The small window of the carriage opened immediately.

"Uh, Lady Redmondel, Your Excellency, um..." The driver's voice rose an octave and stumbled over the words. "I apologize, but s-someone's in the way—"

"I'm the Spell Knight of Cadmia!" Ozahr called loud enough for the passenger to hear. Surely another figure of authority would recognize who I am…

A pleasantly surprised voice called from the carriage. "Ah... A Spell Knight," she repeated after him in a calm and smooth tone. A hand reached out from the window with clawed rings on its fingers and bejeweled bracelets jingling against each other. "Come," said the woman, curling her finger towards herself.

Ozahr stepped around the horses and approached the window. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb your ride, Madam," he said with a respectful bow, "but I seem to have gotten lost and now my belongings have been stolen."

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"Stolen?" said the woman before Ozahr could continue. "What an awful predicament. You should join me in my estate—no respectable sorcerer should gather up dust like this on the streets of Ashborne."

The door of the carriage opened, revealing the lavishly dressed lady inside. Her extravagant red dress took up nearly all the space, but there was still room for one more passenger.

Ashborne... Ozahr had never heard of this city before. He wasn't one for geography, but he was certainly one for scented baths—this was not an opportunity he'd pass up on.

"With pleasure," he said, smiling at the woman and stepping inside the carriage. The coach driver was simply relieved that his head was still on his shoulders—he couldn't care less about the predicament of the extra passenger.

Lady Redmondel looked at her visitor from beneath her feathered hat. Her smile looked unnaturally wide thanks to her wine-red lips.

"Uh," Ozahr opened a bit timidly, "If I may ask... What happened to the people in Ashborne?"

"What... happened?" Redmondel asked with a subtle head-tilt.

"Is the majority of the city, well, poor?" He asked about their raggedy clothes and tiny homes.

"They weren't always," Redmondel answered simply. "They got what they deserved."

Deserved? Ozahr looked at all the jewels adorning the lady. His expression must've changed because Redmondel was quick to speak again.

"All they know is how to take," she said as the corners of her mouth curled down. "Like your stolen belongings. But no matter, if it's clothes you require, I have plenty to spare. I hope you didn't lose anything valuable."

Ozahr's face softened. "No, luckily." He wasn't sure what to make of this city or the woman before him. On their way to the estate, they formally introduced each other. The lady was a Baroness, though the monarch who gave her predecessors that title was long gone. She even decided to throw a ball on a whim to welcome the Spell Knight to her estate, and even though Ozahr said there was no such need, Redmondel insisted. Looks like Ozahr's stay would be longer than he expected.

The estate of the Baroness was as extravagant as the rest of her. Grand, covered in jewels and fine red drapery, though there was one oddity that stood out—the endless imagery of the legendary Phoenix bird, embroidered and sculpted into anything and everything.

"Why Phoenix, in particular?" Ozahr asked out of curiosity as they walked through the entrance hall. He tipped his hat at every maid and butler that passed, but they didn't seem to smile back at him.

"Why not a Phoenix?" Redmondel asked him, walking at the front and leading him to his guest room.

"It's just that there are so many mythical creatures you could've chosen from—unicorns, centaurs, griffins... a dragon, even."

Redmondel glanced behind her with a smile. "You consider all extinct creatures mythical?"

Ozahr shrugged. "They may as well be. No one's seen them around for centuries, if they've been spotted at all to begin with. A Phoenix, especially—aren't they supposed to be immortal?"

"And immortal they are," Redmondel confirmed as they went up some wide marble steps covered with red carpet embroidered with the golden figure of the Phoenix. "I don't expect humans to be familiar with the complexities of immortality, but a sorcerer?" She lightly scoffed. "I expected a sorcerer to be more familiar with the ways of magic."

"W-well," Ozahr hesitantly raised a finger to that statement, "we're still human despite the magical powers. I'm sure more scholarly sorcerers exist, but I'm more of the... hands-on kind of sorcerer."

Redmondel hummed mysteriously. "Is that so," her tone of voice faded away as they reached the double doors of the spare bedroom. Although Ozahr's old bedroom was big, the furniture and decorations inside were rather humble. This room, however, almost blinded him with its riches—a reflecting marble floor, mirrors on every wall, gold and silver trims on every piece of furniture, and the bright red draped over the bed and windows.

"The washroom is that door over there—" Redmondel pointed from the entrance. "Feel free to clean yourself and look around until dinnertime. The ball will likely be held tomorrow evening," she notified him. "Do not wander too much—it's easy to get lost around here, Ozahr Caldun."

The doors closed and Ozahr was left standing in the middle of the foreign room. "Resistance is futile, Ozahr Caldun..." He whispered under his breath, mimicking some classic, villainous line he's read before in a book. On one hand, Ozahr thought to himself, If she is a villain, I'll finally be able to do something cool outside of Cadmia. On the other hand, Elidyr might be mad at me for being late.

But first things first for the young sorcerer—the most expensive scented bath of his life was waiting.