When we arrived at the Duke’s estate no more than thirty minutes later, we were met at the gate by a manservant who reminded me very much of the old servant assigned to spy on me while at the Silverwater mansion. He was tall, pale, with slicked-back white hair and light blue eyes. Dressed in a formal black suit adorned with a waistcoat, high-collared shirt, and cravat, he exuded an air of formality. White gloves peered out from the sleeves of his jacket as he offered to take whatever outdoor wear we wanted to shed.

“The Duke is expecting you,” the manservant said with a slow drawl. “One moment, I will have the gate opened.” He nodded toward a soldier on the other side of the gate, who began to whisper sounds that might have been words in a foreign language.

The golden monstrosity of a gate slowly began to creak open inward, parting at the middle so each side folded backward. As I walked through the opened gate, I noticed the wrought gold had been twisted into intricate patterns of beasts and symbols I’d never seen before. On each side of the golden entrance sat two stern-faced sentinels in gleaming armor reminiscent of the statues guarding the Sun Festival’s noble banquet.

Beyond the golden gate, the Duke’s estate, or maybe it was the City Lord’s estate, unfolded like a tapestry. The central manor was a grandiose structure of gray stone infused with silvers that snaked through the structure like gleaming veins. Windows were scattered throughout the manor, some even stained with stories of battles and heroes, all glittering under the morning’s rising sun.

Long, thick green ivy clung to the walls of the manor, softening the stern architecture with the delicate touch of nature. Bouquets decorated the exterior of the windows and the estate’s large porches, giving a further sense of tranquility that was only ruined by the scorch marks of fire and battle that peppered the once pristine courtyard grass and gardens encircling it.

Nida and I strolled past the guards and along a path of crushed white stone that wound through the ashes of rose beds, reminding me of the horror I’d orchestrated in the city. Fountains carved from marble sent malformed arcs of water into the air, the damage done to them causing the water to spray in all directions as if attempting to water the scorched grass and plants. I wondered briefly where all the water was coming from if the circular nature of the fountains was broken, but refocused ahead of myself when the giant oak doors of the manor were pulled open to reveal a young woman with jet-black hair, angular cheekbones, and green eyes that immediately locked onto mine with a pointed gaze.

Her expression remained neutrally stoic as we approached, holding up a hand as I went to cross the threshold into the building. I initially figured she was just a maid, but a closer inspection of her wear indicated a higher status. The younger woman wore an ankle-length gown of deep green adorned with subtle embroidery. I wasn’t an expert on noble clothing, but the smooth gleam of her gown suggested the possibility of silk. So definitely not a maid.

Compared to the dark blue uniform I’d snagged off a fallen mercenary during my hunt for cores to replace the tattered remains of my old clothing, the woman was dressed rather luxuriously.

Nida lifted an eyebrow at the woman’s clothing and her raised hand, glancing down to pull at the shambles of her brown shirt and trousers. “Hells, lady. Aren’t you dressed finely for a maid?”

“I am no maid,” she said with a scoff of derision, raising her chin to look down on Nida; or at least she tried to. The tigerkin woman stood over a head taller than the finely dressed not-maid lady, so the effect of the woman’s pompous attitude just made the whole situation seem ridiculous. “I am the Duke’s tertiary secretary tasked with organizing his more formal affairs. I am Secretary Dora Velgan.”

“That’s nice,” I responded, brushing past the young woman into the estate. The inside, while polished and somewhat clean, was similar to the outside in that it had many pockets of damage from fire or heart energy. Some even felt like magic, though without more knowledge of it I couldn’t be sure. “Where is the Duke?”

“Please wait a moment, Lady Lilliana. I will show you to the waiting room. His Grace will join you shortly,” Dora said, hurriedly attempting to keep up with me. I realized it was the first time since I’d arrived that someone was shorter than me again. The corners of my lips twitched for a moment into the shadow of a smile, but I kept walking.

“Just tell me where he is. He requested my presence; I did not request an audience with him.” I didn’t stop to look back at her and continued forward despite having no idea where I was going.

“He’s on the second floor,” an older voice spoke up from behind us—the manservant, I realized.

“But, Head Butler,” Dora started to protest. The older man, the Head Butler, cut her off with a wave of his white-gloved hand.

“It is alright, Dora. These are special circumstances. You need not always stand upon ceremony.” The woman pursed her lips into a pout, but the Head Butler seemingly ignored her as he directed us toward a steep staircase. “Follow me, my lady. His Grace apologizes for the… disrepair of the manor. It was the City Lord’s previously and the battle over it was quite messy.”

“That is understandable,” I replied, letting my finger drag gently across one of the many scorch marks. It was still hot, buzzing with the sensation of fire-attributed heart energy. “Tell me, Head Butler, are any of the City Lord’s men still alive?”

Stolen story; please report.

He gave a short bow. “Please, my lady. I am simply Curtis. Regarding your inquiry, of course. Duke Alistar prefers to spare what life he can. It is one of the reasons he is so respected among both the peasantry and nobility.”

I hummed slightly as a new plan began to form itself. “Can I see them, Curtis? I would like to confront the men and women that so actively support something as heinous as slavery.”

Curtis shook his head as we ascended the steps to the second floor before taking a quick left toward the sounds of men arguing. “They are prisoners currently, and any visitations are strictly prohibited except with direct permission from Duke Alistar himself, even if you are a noble lady.”

I didn’t say anything, continuing to softly hum the song of Aedronir. Even if Alistar wouldn’t provide me with permission to access the City Lord’s captive soldiers, I would pay them a visit. How could I simply let sit such an easy harvest? Whether I chose to test my Soul Weaver skills on them or recruit them to my service, the bounty of the captive soldiers was plenty.

Curtis knocked on a heavy oak door, causing the arguing voices within to instantly silence. “One moment,” the Head Butler said and slipped inside the room. He reappeared a moment later, keeping the door ajar long enough for both Nida and myself to follow him inside. When he released the door, it slammed closed with a loud click.

Standing firm with an uncensored level of magnificence was a massive stone table that must have weighed nearly a thousand pounds. The table was overlaid with a large map of Sealrite, heavy brass weights at each corner kept it from curling back up. The slab of granite had been placed in the perfect center, seeming to anchor the room itself. The map was incredibly detailed; my first real glimpse at what Sealrite looked like other than the small sections I’d run through killing monsters. Tiny figurines and markers lay scattered across the map to indicate troop movements, areas of concern, and areas I guessed were most believed to fall under siege.

Surrounding the table, tall bookshelves reached up to the ceiling, packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and ledgers of finances I didn’t care about. An intricately carved wooden chair, padded with rich, dark leather, sat at the head of the stone table. Other, less padded and thinner chairs also adorned the table but were pushed out in a disorganized mess by the advisors who had all long since gotten to their feet.

There were also quite a few framed portraits of Cael nobility pinned to the walls of the war room, though I didn’t recognize any of them from The History of Lysoria.

Massive windows draped with burgundy curtains faced the burnt city, the clear glass reflecting the grand fireplace that dominated the wall furthest from the granite slab. The fireplace was neighbored by a beige couch of rather comfortable leather. Under the windows was a secondary dark leather chair accompanied by a desk of thick wood where Duke Alistar sat in thought, his hands clasped under his chin as a man in a green robe argued with a handful of other men in red and yellow robes.

“Ah, Lady Lilliana,” Duke Alistar said with a clap of his hands as we entered the room, his head swiveling toward us. He quickly gestured dismissively to the robed men surrounding the stone slab table. “We will reconvene later. Cassius, inform me the moment we hear back from the Church.” The man in green robes gave the Duke a deep bow before following the others out as they filed through the side door without another word.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Grace,” I responded with a slight bow of my chin. “It is unfortunate that we couldn’t have met under better circumstances.”

Proper etiquette called for a much deeper bow considering my station was not yet even a Baroness, but the Duke didn’t seem to care. Or he knew that was all he would get from me.

“If the report I have received from Chella is true, then I have many questions for you,” the Duke finally said after taking a moment to stare at me. I waited for him to disclose what Chella had told him rather than taking any initiative in the discussion. How much exactly had she told him? I wasn’t even sure how much Chella herself knew considering she’d remained in the dungeons. The limits of her knowledge were likely the same as the others who’d witnessed my public bouts. Instead, I languidly took a seat in one of his plush office chairs. The Duke leaned in closer, stretching forward over his desk. “Is it true that you defeated a High Pandorian?”

“It was a group effort,” I lied. “You’ve seen my team, I presume?” While I wanted the Duke to acknowledge my strength, it needed to be a limited understanding until I had enough information about this world to properly step into the bigger leagues of political power.

He nodded, raking his hands against his cheeks, and seemed almost surprised at the peppered beard for some reason. “Aye, I have. Though Chella has been rather obtuse about them.”

“Ethan and Nasq did most of the fighting while Nida healed me.”

“Nida is the woman behind you?” Alistar asked, leaning forward even more to get a closer look at her.

“I am,” she answered with a respectful, if curt tone. I shot her a warning look but the tigerkin woman ignored me. When Alistar looked at me with a raised eyebrow I just shrugged. She should have spoken to him with more reverence considering her status, but I supposed I wasn’t showing him proper respect either.

“I see. I assume you hail from the beast lands?” Nida nodded and the duke gave a low chuckle. “You have acquired quite the team here, Lilliana.”

“We can thank the City Lord and the Slave Master for their impeccable taste in collecting battle slaves,” I said sarcastically but quirked the corners of my lips in a showing of playfulness.

The duke took it in stride and laughed, though it was rather stilted. “Indeed, it seems they were good for something at the very least. Curtis,” he said, turning to the headbutler. “I believe some tea is in order.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I shall prepare some Capital tea.” I had no idea what that was but the duke smiled and I mirrored the expression.

As Curtis busied himself in the corner of the room with a trolley arrayed with various canisters of what I assumed to be teas and a single silver kettle, Duke Alistar faced me again and leaned back into his chair. With his hands clasped under his chin, he frowned. “Now, I wonder what I should do with you, young lady. News of Baron Silverwater’s demise has already begun to spread despite my best attempts to contain the information, and so have your actions last night. I’d heard most of Chella’s report before she even came to me from surviving city guardsmen and mercenaries. If your notoriety from the gladiator fights hadn’t been enough, the rumors of you single-handedly dispatching monster after monster are painting you as some sort of folk hero.”

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping. Sure, I’d taken a lead in a handful of monster fights, but for the most part, I’d allowed the Paragons and the duke’s soldiers to handle them. Nida just snickered over my shoulder.

“I assure you, those rumors are likely greatly exaggerated,” I insisted.