The business was done.
The papers had been signed, the contracts sealed with wax, and the gold had been promised.
The two black-dressed vassals of House Ashbourne stepped out of the academy's administrative building and into the wide stone path lined with trimmed hedges and young mage students in uniform passing by.
Conrad Ashworth walked with hands behind his back, his long black coat dragging lightly against the stone floor.
Beside him, Elira's heels clicked rhythmically as her green hair, straight and shiny, rested neatly over her shoulders.
Just near the carriage, a young academy personnel—likely a logistics worker—was lifting crates down from a floating cart.
The crates bore the seal of the school's alchemical labs, likely restocking supplies for some exam happening.
Conrad stopped.
His voice, soft but clear, called out to the boy.
"You there. May I ask—do you know where young lord Ashbourne is?"
The worker flinched and turned around, hugging a crate to his chest.
