Kaiser's fingers worked carefully through the cords binding the satchel, his gaze steady and detached, curiosity tempered by caution. The silver cords parted smoothly, and as he folded back the deep navy-blue fabric, his eyes widened only slightly, enough to betray a rare moment of genuine surprise.

Inside, resting softly against the inner silk lining, lay two familiar objects. The first was the strange, color-changing handkerchief Aria had woven for him in Arkhold, its shifting hues vibrant even in this low, gentle light. Beside it sat the card Glunko had given him, its edges slightly worn.

Kaiser paused, his movements freezing in place—not from sentiment, but in a moment of careful recalculation. These items should have been forgotten, left behind in chaos. Yet here they were, carefully preserved, resting in his grasp. He tilted his head slightly, casting a questioning glance at Tristan.

The butler cleared his throat softly, almost apologetically. "These were discovered in Lord Regulus's personal chambers aboard the Jericho. We believe he kept them close, assuming they held personal value to you, sir."

Kaiser said nothing at first, his expression unreadable, eyes fixated on the simple, trivial items in his palm. The handkerchief, a meaningless token given by a sentimental girl, and a card, a simple gesture from an eccentric friend. To him, their value had ended the moment they were received, yet Regulus, and now, it appeared, Celestine herself, had assumed otherwise.

'So this is the kind of woman Celestine truly is,' Kaiser reflected silently, keeping his thoughts carefully veiled. A person who saw meaning beyond function, who found sentiment in things rather than practicality. A weakness, perhaps... A weakness that made her predictable and manageable.

Tristan, misinterpreting Kaiser's stillness for deeper emotion, subtly bowed his head, eyes softened in quiet reverence. Kaiser noticed this clearly, recognizing the misunderstanding instantly and filing it away—useful in its own right.

"Thank you," Kaiser finally said, voice carefully neutral. "This… is appreciated."

He slipped both objects carefully back into the satchel, movements controlled, methodical, and deliberate. "And what about Regulus?" he asked, looking up with a faintly arched brow. "I need to speak with him."

Tristan's reaction was immediate yet subtly restrained. His eyes flicked downward, shadowed by an unmistakable sorrow that slipped briefly past his professional composure. When the butler finally spoke, his voice was low, reluctant, carrying the heavy weight of grief reserved for irreplaceable losses.

"Lord Regulus…" Tristan paused, voice softening to a near whisper. "He was the only casualty of the battle, sir. He fell in the cavern, standing against Chaos until the very end."

This time, Kaiser truly froze. A brief silence lingered between them, his eyes unmoving, mind whirling rapidly behind the facade of careful calm.

'Damn it,' he cursed internally. Regulus had been valuable—strong, influential, honorable, and connected. A perfect tool who moved with a dignity Kaiser respected, a dignity that made him predictable. It wasn't merely a sentimental regret that made Kaiser's jaw tighten slightly; it was frustration at wasted potential, opportunities burned before he could capitalize fully upon them.

Yes, Regulus had died well. A warrior's end, uncompromising and honorable. Kaiser could not fault him for that, nor did he feel sorrow or guilt. Still, he felt a potent pang of irritation that the knight's death had come at such an inconvenient time. They'd barely begun their association, barely laid groundwork for the schemes he'd planned.

Tristan placed a gentle hand on Kaiser's shoulder, a gesture of comfort that felt alien against his carefully curated armor of indifference.

"The world shall mourn him, sir," the butler murmured respectfully. "Lord Regulus was a true hero, even among the ranks of Titans. Though he was far from the strongest among them, he was among the noblest. A genuine inspiration to thousands."

Kaiser's gaze hardened slightly. An inspiration—another useless abstraction. Yet Regulus was undeniably influential. His death was a loss, but perhaps it was not wholly without its advantages. Suddenly, he remembered the fragments of his past he had shared openly with the knight—pieces of his true self revealed in a moment of curious vulnerability. Now, with Regulus gone, those stories belonged solely to him once again. Kaiser could retell them however he wished, reshape the truth to fit whatever narrative served him best. Perhaps it wasn't a total loss after all.

With a smooth, decisive motion, Kaiser lifted Tristan's hand from his shoulder, setting it aside with firm grace. "You do not need to comfort me, Tristan," he said flatly, eyes cold yet unoffended.

Tristan regarded him steadily, a gentle sadness behind his composed exterior. "He was a lonely man, by many accounts," he added softly. "Reports indicate he considered you a friend, even after your brief acquaintance. The way he spoke, the way he acted—he showed a genuine attachment toward you."

Kaiser's brow furrowed slightly. "We knew each other for two days, no more," he said coolly, his voice tempered by rationality rather than disdain.

The butler shook his head slowly, offering a small, thoughtful smile. "With respect, sir, surely you understand better than most that time alone does not measure true understanding."

For a fleeting second, Kaiser hesitated. The butler's words held an uncomfortable truth, striking somewhere deep within his own carefully guarded beliefs. But then his expression steeled once more, regaining his calculated equilibrium.

"Perhaps," Kaiser said finally, voice neutral again, eyes already moving toward the room's exit. "But understanding and attachment are two very different matters."

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Kaiser had just finished, the edge of his voice cold and ironclad, when the air outside the room changed as a faint, feminine voice filtered through the thick wooden door.

"Sama, if you don't slow down, I swear by every soul in this house, I'll tie your horns in a knot—"

The rest was drowned out by the sudden, violent crash of the door being kicked open. The heavy slab of painted wood slammed into the wall with a jarring thud, leaving a perfect trail of muddy footprints across the once-pristine marble. In stormed a young woman with long hair like a riot of scarlet lightning. Her horns, short and sharply pointed, flicked with irritation as she glared at Tristan with volcanic annoyance.

"Oi, what the hell do you want, Tristan?" the girl snapped, voice far louder than the room deserved, fists balled at her hips. "You call me all the way up here and for what?"

Behind her came another woman, this one taller and far more composed. Her hair was an immaculate helmet of metallic gray, smooth and perfectly contoured, catching the light like living armor. Long, split horns angled gracefully back from her brow. The air of calm was almost suffocating.

"Sama, please," the second maid murmured, her voice low, gentle, yet carrying that subtle authority that comes from having always been obeyed. "Forgive my younger sister's… exuberance. She means well, even if she forgets her manners at the door." She gave a practiced little bow to Tristan, then to Kaiser, her eyes unblinking and her posture impossibly straight.

Sama only snorted, making a show of kicking the door further open with her heel and giving her sister a sidelong glare. "Oh, chill your tits, Syra! Nobody ever died from a loud entrance. Besides, you act like you'd snap in half if you tried to relax for once."

At this, Syra's left horn twitched. She gave a single, patient "clink" as she tapped her horns together in silent thought, but her eyes never left Kaiser. "Our apologies, my lord. The youngest is… still untrained in her duties. I hope you will not hold her conduct against the house."

Sama rolled her eyes so hard it seemed like she was trying to see her own brain. "Mossy arse, Syra, you apologize more than you breathe. Ain't like he's royalty anyway." She stuck out her tongue, and for a second, her spiky hair actually fizzled, giving off a faint sizzle that made the room smell faintly of ozone and—was that lemon?

Tristan cleared his throat, managing to retain a dignified composure in the face of the chaos. "I called for your assistance, Sama, as Lady Celestine left orders for the manor to be thoroughly refreshed, and for all guests to be treated with the utmost care."

"Great," Sama shot back, voice thick with sarcasm. "So basically, you wanted the best damn maid on the grounds for this guy, huh? Well, you got her." She jerked a thumb toward Kaiser, smirking, but her eyes flashed with genuine curiosity, her irritation clearly more of a habit than true anger.

Syra stepped smoothly in front of her. "Ignore her, sir," she said to Kaiser, "And please inform us of your any need. We are here to serve."

Kaiser, for his part, studied them both with that familiar, hawk-like focus. He nodded once to Syra, with the briefest flicker of acknowledgment, then turned his eyes to Sama, weighing her with a cool, clinical interest—one that, for a moment, seemed to amuse her rather than offend. Tristan, meanwhile, maintained the appearance of calm, though Kaiser caught the faintest twitch at the edge of his mouth. "Ladies, your energy is appreciated. But please, let us keep the noise to a minimum. Lord Kaiser has only just awoken."

"Your names," Kaiser said, "And your functions. I prefer not to deal with unknown variables in a place where I intend to sleep."

Sama was the first to snap to attention, more out of rebellion than respect. She cocked her head, scarlet spikes of hair bristling, and fixed him with an exaggerated salute. "Sama. The youngest, which everyone keeps reminding me of." She flashed Syra a mocking grin. "Errand maid, messenger, cleaner of all the things nobody else wants to touch, and, if you believe the stories, the only one here who actually doesn't enjoy her damn job."

Syra, meanwhile, remained perfectly poised. "I am Syra," she said evenly, her voice carrying an unhurried calm. "The eldest, and the Shield. My role is security, maintenance, order, and, when necessary, discipline, though in this house, that is more theory than practice." She allowed herself the faintest of dry smiles, though her eyes never lost their watchfulness. "If you require protection, repairs, or silence, you will find me close by."

Sama shot her a sideways glance. "If you need someone to suck the fun out of a room, she's your snail." She winked, though Syra didn't bother to respond—just tapped her horns together with that metallic clink.

Kaiser nodded curtly. "Noted." His eyes flicked to Aria's sleeping form. "Now please keep the volume down. I've no need for noise, especially while she rests. Understood?"

Syra bowed her head, the gesture measured and dignified. "You have my word, Lord Kaiser. The house will remain quiet."

Sama tried to stifle a laugh, but it escaped anyway. "Alright, alright, I'll play nice. Wouldn't want to wake your guard dog." She leaned over Aria's form and made an exaggerated "shhh" with her finger to her lips, then sidestepped back out of arm's reach, muttering, "Sleeping with a dagger—a girl after my own heart."

Tristan, watching all of this, looked briefly mortified, but maintained his composure. "Ladies, thank you. And, Sama, I trust you recall your additional instructions?"

Sama rolled her eyes, which somehow managed to make her seem even younger. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. Celestine's orders." She straightened, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if barely restraining the urge to bolt down the hallway. "When this guy," she nodded toward Kaiser, "Finally woke up, I was supposed to show him around. Proper tour and all that bonus shit. Guess the others already got theirs. I'm your last resort, big guy."

Kaiser watched her closely, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. He wondered, briefly, whether Celestine had chosen Sama for the task out of strategy or simple sadism. He suspected both. The girl was impossible to ignore, and almost certainly impossible to control. Still, it might prove fun.

Sama took a half-step toward the door, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was paying attention. "Ready when you are, boss."

Syra inclined her head once more, her voice low but sincere. "You are in capable hands, Lord Kaiser. And if you are not, you will be within moments."

"Don't promise things you can't deliver, Sis," Sama quipped, but this time her tone was softer, almost—almost—fond.

Kaiser, satisfied for now, scooped up the satchel Celestine had left for him, giving Aria's head one last careful pat before taking a step. "Let's get on with it, then. I'd rather know the lay of this mansion before the day is trough."

Sama's grin widened. "That's the spirit. Try to keep up, big guy."

Kaiser was nearly through the door when he paused, glancing back at Aria. He them turned to Tristan, his voice as steady as ever. "One last thing. When she wakes up, make sure someone's here. I want her to know where I've gone and that she isn't abandoned." He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Tell her to wait. I'll find her later."

Tristan's eyes softened by a degree, the iron discipline in his posture easing just enough to betray approval. "Of course, Lord Kaiser. I shall see to it personally. She will have company and clarity."

Satisfied, Kaiser offered no thanks, only a measured nod, then slipped out the door after Sama.

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