“Speaking of which, Baird, why’s your city so empty today? Is it some special festival?”

With Baird beside him, Adrian slipped the question into idle chatter, like a pebble into a stream.

His tone flowed natural, his face placid, no ripple betraying anything strange.

The man next to him was famed for sharp eyes like hawks, and Adrian didn’t want a seam showing.

Better to move like water than wear a mask that creaks.

“Of course not, Your Highness Adrian.”

Baird gave a bitter smile and shook his head, then pointed at merchants crouched by the homes like shadows.

He sighed, breath like autumn wind through dry reeds.

“It’s complicated, so I’ll keep it simple. Look at those stalls hugging the houses. Do they look local to you?”

“Of course not.”

Adrian answered without hesitation, drawing on old impressions of this border city like maps etched in memory.

“This is the last city before the Realm of Mages.

Each year, Arcane Power gemstones moving through here make up nearly a third of imperial trade.

Caravans once flowed like rivers, and supply quotas to the Realm of Mages were worth their weight in crowns.”

“A city piled high by trade shouldn’t look this ruined.”

Baird applauded softly, palms like dry leaves tapping, an old face creasing with a relieved smile.

“Yes, Your Highness. With limited intel, your analysis is still razor-sharp.

Seems the old man’s rough lessons stuck.”

He sighed heavy, shoulders sinking like wet cloaks.

For a breath, he looked like a stooped elder, not the Eagle of the Seven Hills that haunted battlefields.

“But your intel’s outdated.”

“Outdated?”

Adrian narrowed his eyes and dipped his chin, like a blade testing the wind.

“This city hasn’t been the Golden City for a long time…”

His sigh dragged, and gray threads stood out in his combed black hair, like frost on dark pine.

Even Lilith could feel the winter in him.

Baird pointed at the lord’s hall rising in the town’s center, one crane among chickens.

“Forgive my tongue.

Since Lady Elizabeth died seven years ago, the Golden City has been a name only.

It relies on a fragile heir.

Without that strong team in the west, holding out till today is… hard won.”

He cut a glance at Lilith, then sighed again, whispering “sin” in his heart.

Lilith bit her lip, her body shaking like a leaf, eyes reddening like embers.

She said nothing and hid behind Adrian’s back, like a fawn seeking shade.

“Let’s look first, then talk.”

Caught between them, Adrian could only sigh, bitterness welling like dark tea.

Baird shook his head, helpless, his old edge sanded down by seven years.

Before them stood a loyal elder, not a blade.

When words dry up, silence grows.

After that topic frayed, Adrian and his disciple fell quiet.

Lilith no longer had eyes for the so‑called Golden City.

Mentioning the woman who pushed her into the Abyss left splinters in the air.

To her, a city stacked with gold may as well be built of flesh.

Baird led them on, and they soon reached the lord’s manor.

Around them, buildings truly wore gold, but this manor looked plain.

Aside from the garden, the residence was red brick and white tile, neat yet bare.

From Adrian’s angle, it didn’t pass muster.

Beyond the garden lay the lord’s home.

“No defensive array at all.

Your new lord’s really unqualified.”

“Please, come in, Lord Adrian.

It’s simple, forgive us.

My master’s been waiting.”

Baird said no more.

Here, he wore a steward’s polish, smile steady, manners exact.

He bowed deep and opened the door like a careful stagehand.

Adrian sighed and walked in with Lilith.

Austere greeted them.

The reception hall was stripped bare, the crystal chandelier like a lone star.

Brown walls pressed in, heavy as earth.

A thin young man had been waiting.

Seeing them, he rose smoothly and bowed.

“Honored to meet you, Your Highness.

The current heir of House Bathory greets you.”

His salute was polite yet unvarnished.

He hadn’t learned the oil of politics.

His face stayed stiff, severe, a reed that might snap.

Chapter 32

“I am Cassandra Bathory, head of House Bathory and the Empire’s appointed lord of this border city.

It’s my honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

He kept clear lines despite Baird’s standing, ruler and subject like two rails.

No flattery, no chill; just clean restraint worn into bone.

“The Bathory heir?”

Adrian extended his hand and gave the house head a measured shake.

He wore a not‑quite smile.

“A pleasure.

Don’t treat me as a prince.

I’m only a traveler now.

In your domain, I’ll follow your customs.”

They met without sparks, which let Baird exhale inside like a bellows softening.

He even stole a look at Lilith.

She stood behind Adrian, head bowed, silent as snowfall.

Truth be told, in that meeting’s first heartbeat, even battle‑stained Baird felt his heart hammer.

He had seen the prince who hung heads on walls, cold as iron and void of mercy.

Don’t torment old hearts… he prayed.

Just now, he’d been sweating for Cassandra.

“Much obliged.

You must be travel‑worn.

My steward will guide you.

Please rest first.

We’ll prepare a banquet.”

Cassandra smoothed his sleeve.

Understanding Adrian’s stance eased him.

With the air less taut, his movements grew natural.

Adrian noticed the shift but said nothing.

He took Lilith’s hand and gave Baird a kind look.

“Then I’ll trouble you to lead.”

Baird stepped ahead, smiling, and gestured them on.

“This way, Your Highness.”

They climbed a long spiral stair, slow as smoke.

Only then did Adrian grasp the manor’s unexpected size.

Without Baird, the maze of stairs could swallow you.

He could track with Arcane Power, sure.

Still, this design…

Adrian rubbed his brow and sighed, a weary ripple.

“Baird, are you doing this on purpose?

You know I lose my way in places like this.”

Baird let out a bitter chuckle and shook his head.

“Your Highness, I’d never dare.

This layout was born twisted.

I spent time learning its turns.”

“Built so complex to hide crimes?”

Lilith cut in, voice steady but low, like night water.

She kept her gaze down.

Silver hair fell, veiling ruby eyes.

The air iced over.

Her old wound, raised again, turned ease to awkward stone.

Baird couldn’t answer.

He only sighed and kept climbing.

Soon, they reached the guest room.

Lilith entered and walked straight to the window.

She sat on the bed and said nothing.

Silence, here, was the hardest blade.

Even Baird felt thorns at his back.

“Please rest well.

There’s a micro teleportation array in the room.

If you need me, ring the bell by the bed.

I’ll notify you before the banquet.”

He finished and left almost in flight.

He didn’t look back, feet tapping down the spiral like rain.

Even his thick face thinned before a truth this heavy.

He couldn’t stand before Adrian, or the wounded girl.

Let the master and disciple breathe.

The door closed.

Adrian broke the hush with a couple coughs and crossed to Lilith.

“Lilith—”

She moved first.

She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

Her soft body trembled like a bowstring.

“If you want to cry, then cry.”

Ideas flashed like startled birds, yet words would only bruise.

How could he ask the hurt to forgive the hand that hurt?

How could he ask a heart ablaze to bless the flame that burned it?

Since reason fails, let the storm empty.

“S‑sorry… M‑master…”

Her sobbing voice pressed against his chest, tremor and hiccuping breaths shaking him.

Adrian sighed deep and stroked her silver hair, giving what warmth he could.

He’d last felt this helpless in a pitch‑black cell.

He had carried a bloody girl, pulled silver nails from her joints, and brought her back to sunlight.

“Don’t say such nonsense, Lilith.

You’re my disciple.

So cling, sulk, and cry all you want.

Your master will forgive you, unconditionally.”

He kept his voice soft, even as his eyes reddened.

They held each other like beasts licking wounds, tight and silent.

No one would break this moment.

No one could.

In the manor’s study, Cassandra worked through files like winter crows.

Through the tall window, he saw a city thinned out and sighed.

A knock tapped twice light, once heavy, a familiar rhythm.

“Come in, Baird.”

“Forgive the intrusion, my lord.”

The heavy brown door eased open, and Baird pushed in a cart.

“You’ve worked long.

Please rest for a moment, my lord.”

Baird poured black tea and set it by Cassandra’s hand.

Steam rose like autumn mist, warming late fall bones.

Faced with the steward’s stubborn care, Cassandra sighed, slid the files aside, and sipped.

Heat ran down his throat and settled as calm.

“Mm… Baird, your touch is still excellent.

Who’d guess you spent a life in armor as a royal knight?”

He tried to lean back by habit, then remembered the chair was hard wood, not a soft sofa.

“My lord, don’t tease an old man.”

Baird smiled and shook his head. He stood beside Cassandra with quiet reverence, like a kindly elder tending a junior, a warm lantern by a young sapling.

“Baird, what do you think the prince seeks, coming now like a shadow crossing our threshold?”

Suddenly, Cassandra tossed a question that seemed unrelated, like a stone dropped into a still pond.

Simple on the surface, tangled beneath. Baird stood in an awkward spot; every answer felt wrong, like walking a tightrope over thorns.

Ah, what a bind for this old man, like an old pine bent under a restless wind.

He thought for a moment. Today had wrung more rueful smiles from him than any day, like bitter tea steeped too long.

“His Highness came… most likely to head for the Mage’s Domain. It has little to do with us. Clan Head, you can rest easy, like a river choosing its own course.”

Cassandra shook her head and set her teacup down, steam thinning like mist over a willow pond.

“Baird, don’t weigh my feelings. I know the past. Those crimes that can’t be undone are hard fact, like stains that won’t wash off stone. I won’t deny it.”

At the mention of those old crimes, Cassandra lowered her head. Her face wavered on the tea’s surface, and she whispered like wind through bamboo.

“It must’ve hurt terribly… like walking barefoot over frost.”

Baird shook his head. He straightened, eyes sharp as cold stars, and spoke in a low voice.

“From what I know, His Highness Adrian isn’t the kind to drag hatred like a chain. Of course, if needed, I’ll start watching the two of them.”