The first time I met Lord Eric Lasair was two years ago, and I'd been warned to keep my mouth shut.

  "Just smile and nod," Andy had instructed, his tone making it clear this wasn't a suggestion. "The nobles don't want to hear from the support members."

  Heather had reinforced the point with her saccharine smile. "Will, sweetie, these political dinners are delicate. Best leave the talking to those of us who understand the nuances."

  We were supposed to go raid the Midnight Dungeon. I had already done extensive intel gathering and we were ready as we could be for going in.

  But when Andy heard of Lasair Manor being near the village we stayed at, he insisted on a detour to it.

  So I sat at the grand table in Lasair Manor, surrounded by gleaming silver and crystal goblets that probably cost more than everything I owned, prepared to be invisible. Elane caught my eye from across the table, her slight grimace confirming she'd received the same instructions.

  The dining hall stretched around us with hanging tapestries showing the Lasair family crest. Servants lined the wall like a squad of soldiers, ready to refill a glass or pick up an empty plate at a moment’s notice.

  I wanted to pull at the collar of my silk shirt, but I was terrified I’d damage it. Andy told me the shirt I spent a gold coin on was ‘utter trash’ and had me wear one of his, making it clear he’d kill me if I got a single drop of wine on it.

  In other words I was in hell.

  "You there, young man with the keen eyes," Lord Eric Lasair called suddenly, his voice carrying easily down the length of the polished oak table. "Will, wasn't it? Tell me, what do you think of our Seanair compared to your homeland?"

  I froze, a forkful of roasted pheasant halfway to my mouth. Andy's warning glare from the head of the table was impossible to miss, but Lord Eric was looking at me expectantly, his blue eyes kind beneath a shock of flame-red hair.

  "I, uh..." I cleared my throat, setting down my fork. "It's beautiful, my lord. More vibrant somehow. The colors seem richer, the air clearer."

  Lord Eric nodded encouragingly. "And what fascinates you most about our world?"

  I could feel Andy's displeasure radiating down the table, but something about Lord Eric's genuine interest loosened my tongue.

  "The way magic is integrated into everyday life," I answered honestly. "Where I come from, we have technology instead—machines that can do incredible things. But here, even simple things like lighting a room have this... wonder to them."

  Lord Eric's face lit up. "Precisely! We take it for granted, those of us born here. Fresh eyes help us remember the marvel of our own world."

  I found myself matching his smile. It felt a painfully long time since I had enjoyed small talk with someone. Scouting did involve talking to people many times, but it was always all business. Hunting down rumors about a dungeon or a monster.

  “I think what’s really amazing is just how you can alter reality itself with magic. We use a bank at Zephyria called Tinkerbank Treasury where apparently there is no such thing as a limit on storing stuff. I mean they just open this magic portal to a pocket dimension to put money and valuables in!”

  “I want to say such magics took off thanks to a famous wizard called Eldress the Eccentric. He was famous for dabbling in magics to bend time and space. Believe it or not, the way the story goes is he was trying to create a spell which would take him to your world.”

  “You mean he wanted to travel to Earth?”

  “Aye, back three hundred years ago when the Demon King had risen just like now, he became friends with one of the Heroes. The way the tale goes, he pined after this Hero and the said Hero went back home after the Demon King was defeated. He never confessed his feelings and was determined to go to your world to express his love.”

  “How romantic,” Heather chimed in with a smile. It was always hard for me to tell how sincere she was with that expression.

  “Did he succeed?” I asked, feeling slightly silly asking the question. I never heard of some wizard magically showing up on Earth, but maybe he was just subtle when he arrived on my world. Eric shook his head with a sigh.

  “No, the way his apprentice described it, one of his spells backfired and he died. But all those attempts to reach Earth caused him to create all sorts of new spells no one saw before. Including one which would create a little pocket world for storing things. I think it was his apprentice who founded Tinkerbank Treasury centuries ago.”

  There was a lull of silence as people contemplated Lord Eric’s words, well except for at one corner where Andy and Duncan were chatting away.

  Eric turned to Elane next. "And you, young lady? What captures your imagination in Seanair?"

  If I looked uncomfortable being called out to speak, Elane just appeared downright terrified. She didn’t just pause raising a fork, it dropped from her hand with an awkward loud clatter. Her eyes widened as she stared at Eric.

  “Oh Lord Lasair, please forgive Elane. She’s a total klutz and really doesn’t like to speak,” Heather said, leaning forward to try to draw the noble’s attention.

  “Nonsense, I want to hear from every Hero here. Please Lady Elane, speak your mind,” Lord Eric said with a gentle smile. I have to admit, he had a serious father vibe about him which would put anyone at ease.

  And it appeared to work on Elane because she was no longer pale and opened her mouth.

  “Elane honey, drink something. You look downright ghastly pale as one of the ghosts we fought in the last dungeon.”

  But it looked like Heather was determined at least one of us was going to follow the rules she and Andy had put out there.

  “Lady Heather, I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt my other guests. I expected better of a famous Hero.”

  The words fell like a thunderbolt. The clink of silverware against fine china stopped instantly. The servants along the wall seemed to collectively hold their breath. Even the flames in the hearth appeared to still for a moment.

  Heather's face transformed in that split second before she could control it—her eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring, lips pulling back in a snarl that revealed perfect white teeth. It was like watching a beautiful mask crack to reveal something feral underneath. Just as quickly, the expression vanished, replaced by her practiced smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

  I stared into my goblet, pretending I hadn't witnessed her mask slip.

  "My sincerest apologies, Lord Lasair," Heather said, her voice honey-sweet but with an undercurrent I recognized all too well. "I was merely concerned for my dear friend's comfort."

  From the corner of the room, I noticed Andy and Duncan had ceased their animated discussion about fighting trolls. Andy's jaw was clenched tight, his hand gripping his knife with whitened knuckles. Duncan looked between his father and Heather with undisguised curiosity.

  Just like Heather though, Andy was quick to hide his anger and was already starting up another topic with Duncan.

  Elane meanwhile was once again staring at Lord Eric with wide eyes. Not fear this time, more like bewilderment. Then while protectively crossing her arms against herself, she spoke.

  “I’m really interested in the wildlife you have. I always liked animals and so I like to learn what animals you have here which we don’t have back on Earth.”

  “What a wonderful thing to study. I’m sure you’ll find all sorts of species not seen in your world. Although I do hear your world has horses just like ours. I wonder if there are stallions just like my Tundra in your world.”

  “Oh I’m sure, I’m told your most common horse breed is called the Brae. They appear very similar to the American Quarter Horse breed we have at home. My favorite at home was the Shire Horse though and I’m hoping I’ll spot something similar to them here…”

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  I suddenly found my food utterly fascinating, not able to take my eyes off it. Because I knew if I raised my head, I’d be staring at Elane who was popping off name after name of horse breed. Then with just a quick breath, she was talking about llamas.

  In the past ten minutes she spoke more words than I heard from her in the past three months. And Lord Eric appeared to take it all in with a smile. Only needing to give out an occasional comment or question to keep the conversation going.

  She sounded so happy talking about this stuff. She was actually smiling which was a rare occurrence.

  Which is why I was already bracing myself for what came next.

  “Elane how about giving me a turn to speak? I haven’t had a chance yet to share my own views with Lord Lasair,” Jesse asked in a brief pause of Elane speaking. It was such an innocent question, but I knew deep down this was Jesse just backing up Heather.

  Elane was defying Heather by talking with the noble so Jesse was doing what she could to help her best friend put Elane in her ‘place’.

  Elane's smile crumbled at Jesse's interruption. For a heartbeat, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling as she ducked her head. But just as quickly, she composed herself, shoulders hunching inward as she retreated into that protective shell I'd become so familiar with. Her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap into a knot as she nodded, her voice a whisper.

  "Sorry. I got carried away."

  Lord Eric's eyes narrowed slightly, his jovial expression cooling as he turned to Jesse.

  "Lady Jesse," he said, his tone polite but noticeably lacking the warmth he'd shown Elane and me. "Since you're eager to share, what aspects of Seanair have caught your attention during your time here?"

  Jesse preened under the attention, either missing or ignoring the shift in Lord Eric's demeanor. She tossed her auburn hair over one shoulder with practiced casualness.

  "The power structure, honestly," she replied, leaning forward with an ambitious gleam in her eye. "It's fascinating how magic creates such clear hierarchies. In our world, anyone can pretend to be important, but here you can see who truly matters just by looking at their magic potential."

  Lord Eric's expression shifted so quickly I nearly missed it—the warmth in his blue eyes hardening to ice. He set his goblet down with deliberate care, the soft clink somehow more ominous than if he'd slammed it.

  "I fear you've fundamentally misunderstood our society, Lady Jesse," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut. "Magic is merely one facet of power in Elska, and often not the most significant."

  Jesse's smile faltered. "But surely—"

  "I know of a powerful mage in Zephyria who lives in a one-room apartment above a bakery," Lord Eric continued, folding his hands before him. "He creates powerful magic items, but violated Mage Guild rules so he is ostracized by many. Meanwhile, House Marthiel possesses barely enough magic to light a candle, yet their trading empire spans all three kingdoms."

  The dining hall had fallen utterly silent. Even the servants seemed to be holding their breath.

  "Our society values honor, Lady Jesse. Tradition. Service to the kingdom and its people. Those who wield great magic but lack character find themselves isolated, while those who serve honorably are welcomed at every table, regardless of their magical aptitude."

  Lord Eric's gaze swept the table, lingering briefly on Andy before returning to Jesse. "The Heroes of old understood this. They came with incredible power, yet they bowed to our customs, respected our ways. They knew that true strength lies not in what one can take, but in what one gives."

  Jesse's face had flushed a deep crimson, her eyes darting to Heather for support. But Heather was suddenly fascinated by the pattern on her plate, unwilling to draw Lord Eric's ire.

  "I... I see," Jesse mumbled, reaching for her wine with a slightly trembling hand.

  Duncan cleared his throat from the far end of the table. "Father, perhaps we could discuss the summer festival preparations? I understand the Heroes might be invited to participate in the tournaments."

  It was a graceful attempt to change the subject, and Lord Eric accepted it with a nod of gratitude to his son. The conversation shifted to lighter topics—the upcoming festivities and all the things which would come with it.

  Merchants coming far and wide with exotic goods. Bards and minstrels coming to perform songs and dances. And then of course, both a sword and jousting tournament for everyone to watch.

  It was probably one of the best dinners I’ve ever had with the Heroes Party because none of them, not even Andy, were going to make it miserable for me. I remembered silently praying I’d get to visit that same dining hall again soon.

  The memory dissolved as I entered the same dining hall two years later. The vast room felt cavernous now, the same tapestries somehow duller, their colors muted in the sparse candlelight. Only two servants stood at attention against the wall, their faces carefully blank.

  Duncan Lasair sat at the far end of the polished oak table, his posture rigid, hands clasped before him. The transformation was striking—his once vibrant red hair had dulled, and shadows hung beneath his eyes like bruises. His clothing, which I remembered as having vibrant colors of red and gold before, was now replaced by a cheap white shirt made of cotton and grey trousers.

  He had basically given me clothing to wear which was ten times more valuable compared to his own, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  I slid into the chair opposite him, the scrape of wood against stone floor echoing unnaturally loud in the silent hall. Between us stretched an expanse of empty table, a no-man's land of polished wood and untouched silverware.

  "Thank you for seeing me," I said, my voice sounding small in the vast space.

  Duncan's eyes met mine, and I nearly flinched at what I saw there. The warm, enthusiastic young knight who had once animatedly discussed troll-fighting techniques with Andy was gone. In his place sat a man who gave a flat gaze with a stone-cold expression. He didn’t appear angry, but there was no joy there either.

  "You're welcome at Lasair Manor," he replied, the words formal, rehearsed. His fingers tapped an irregular rhythm against the table's edge. "Though I admit, I'm curious why you've come."

  I glanced at Osirus, perched silently on the chair beside me. Even the normally boisterous raven seemed subdued by the oppressive atmosphere.

  "I have a… proposition," I began carefully. "It’s risky, but if successful then it’ll lead to you getting something I think we both know belongs to the Lasair family."

  Something flashed in Duncan's eyes—pain, anger, or perhaps both. "You need to work on your diplomacy skills, Will." His voice was soft but carried an edge. "Trying to instantly entice me with my family’s former heirloom is in bad form when you didn’t even detail the risks first. And I’m pretty sure one of those risks is defying the Heroes Party."

  The bluntness caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. He deserved honesty, not platitudes.

  "You’re right," I admitted. "I am asking you to defy the Heroes Party; actually I’m asking you to help me get revenge on them. We’ve both lost something because of them and I came here hoping to find an ally."

  Duncan studied me for a long moment, his gaze dropping to my missing hand before returning to my face. Without breaking eye contact, he raised one hand, and a servant appeared immediately at his side.

  "Wine," he ordered, and the servant vanished as silently as he'd appeared.

  “So you’ve come here asking me, a Holy Knight, to do something which defies everything the Holy Church of Divine Light teaches. Seek harm on the Heroes Party, the people the gods themselves favored and who succeeded at slaying the Demon King.”

  There was a loud thud as my only hand slapped the table. The table didn’t shake of course, a person could literally tap dance on that table without it moving.

  “I don’t know what rumors have already reached you, but let me be clear—I was the one who killed the Demon King. And I have the prize to prove it,” I said, now matching Duncan’s flat gaze with one of my own.

  I should be more submissive than this, more pleading.

  But dear God was I tired of those assholes getting credit for everything.

  Now here I was in a staring contest with Duncan. I don’t know what he found in my gaze, but for the first time the icy demeanor cracked and a smile was on his lips.

  “You know I was afraid they’d succeed at breaking you like they did that girl. I’m glad they weren’t able to snuff your fire out.”

  I flinched at the mention of Elane, but my shoulders sagged in relief. He wasn’t lecturing me on wanting vengeance or calling me a liar. This was someone who would believe my story no matter how taboo it would be to do so.

  Of course it helped that he had his own horror story when it came to the Heroes Party.

  The servant came with red wine, pouring each of us a glass.

  “Tell me everything which has led you here. And if I think for even a second you are lying or leaving out an important detail, I’ll have you kicked off the manor grounds and report your presence to the Heroes Party.”

  The old Duncan from two years ago would never accuse a guest of potentially lying. He’d probably sooner set his own arm on fire before daring to break etiquette to make such a threat. This wasn’t the Duncan of two years ago though… and in a way that was comforting.

  I needed allies who weren’t afraid of calling bullcrap when they saw it.

  “I guess I’ll start with the fight against the Demon King…”

  I didn’t hold anything back. Or at least I tried my best not to. I started my story by explaining the important intel I gathered which was promptly ignored by the others. The steps I took myself to be ready to do a killing strike on the Demon King with the said intel. Slaying the Demon King, getting The Wish, and all the events which happened afterwards.

  I shared everything, even my distrust of the others and why I made a fake version of The Wish. I even shared my suspicions that Fire-Friend was a tool to get into a Five Sigil Dungeon. Duncan’s icy gaze had returned, but it was less intimidating. I had the feeling he wasn’t trying to scare me, he just lost a lot of the good cheer he used to have.

  Given what happened to his family, I couldn’t blame him.

  I felt slightly out of breath after I finished my tale and reached for the wine glass. Just a couple of sips for my parched mouth. This would not be a good time to get buzzed.

  There was only a minute of silence, but it felt like eternity before Duncan finally spoke.

  “Thank you for sharing your story. It sounded like a tragic one which no one would want to revisit. But before I help you, I’m afraid I need to ask for a different story.”

  I knew what he was going to ask and the excuses were already on my tongue.

  “You already know what happened to him, I practically spelled it out to you. And you know the reason was because Andy wanted Fire-Friend. Is there really any—”

  “—YES! THERE IS A POINT TO IT!”

  When my fist slammed on the table minutes ago, there wasn’t so much as a tremor from the thick oak beneath my hand.

  When Duncan slammed his fist, wine goblets jumped, crimson liquid sloshing over the rims, and porcelain plates skidded near the table edge.

  His face transformed in an instant, the cold mask shattering to reveal raw, unfiltered rage beneath. His eyes, once dull, now blazed with an inner fire that matched his heritage.

  "Two years!" he shouted, surging to his feet. "Two years I've waited for someone to tell me the truth! Two years of condolences and pitying looks while they fed me lies about a 'tragic accident' in some stupid dungeon!"

  The servants pressed themselves against the wall, eyes downcast as their master's rage filled the room. When I first stepped in here, it felt like a tomb. Now it felt like a battlefield.

  “But I will wait no more! You will tell me how my father was murdered, Will! You will tell me how your Heroes Party took his life!”