'What's special about him?' Dynatós thought, his eyes narrowed as he looked upon Mr. Valen, the man seated atop Zephyros.

It had been 24 hours.

While the bird slept, Mr. Valen breathed in and out, the thumping of his heartbeat audible even from his distance.

"All I need is a breathing manual, and I'll be a much more valuable slave than you," he muttered, thinking about how the High Scioness seemed to value Mr. Valen more than he did, even permitting him to call her his lady, a term used by noble men to refer to noble ladies.

In a way, it spoke to how highly the High Scioness saw Mr. Valen.

When he had tried to use the same address however, he had shut down coldly, which puzzled him.

'I'm the one who has the valuable... Information,' Dynatós thought, balling his fist, his eyes trembling with worry as he stood in the rain.

Suddenly, Mr. Valen's form trembled, a certain resonance around him as he opened his emerald eyes, the glow more intense than usual, and when he looked at him, Dynatós felt a certain suppression that looked deeper than he understood.

'So this is a Hellfire Novice,' the man thought grimly, watching as Mr. Valen's drenched form rose and jumped down from the large bird.

"Valen," Dynatós nodded with a smile, before walking up to him. "Congratulations on your advancement."

In response to Dynatós' greeting, the expressionless man nodded his head and looked around, finally taking in the scenery.

They stood atop one of the grey, crack-filled platforms protruding from a humongous tower, the heavy rain casting a constant chill as it made contact with their skin.

The island below was unclear, obscured by mist and black rain, but it had about it an air of mystique that would chill any observer.

Only God knows what creatures roam the black sea, but it was a sight to behold: waves as large as skyscrapers crashing against the tower's base with deafening roars.

"We should head inside. The High Scioness has requested your presence," Dynatós, who was used to Mr. Valen's silence, smiled and spoke.

Hearing this, Mr. Valen nodded again, quietly following behind, but just before he walked into the tower's opening, he heard that robotic voice again. "It. Hurts." And he stopped.

«What is that voice? The Whisper Stalker said to find its source, but...»

"Valen?" Dynatós called out to him quizzically, prompting Mr. Valen to hasten his steps and walk into the structure.

The interior felt like a different world, with many people moving to and from the entrance, some even walking past them.

The sight before Mr. Valen made him rethink this world's level of technology. The large walkway before them was illuminated by crystal gasoliers overhead, their light glistening off polished mahogany counters and displays of exotic goods.

On these displays, one could see mundane items like bolts of shimmering silk, polished ivory tusks, and gleaming clockwork automatons under glass.

But there were things he could not understand, the heads or body parts of some strange beasts, glowing crystals, weapons, and most of all, books, lots and lots of books.

Men in tailored frock coats and women in bustling gowns could be seen seated on tables in the corner, murmuring over teacups, the low hum of civilized conversation in the air.

Slaves, collared in discreet brass, stood rigidly against the walls or near the well-dressed people, eyes downcast.

They were dressed in clean, dark livery.

Giant, riveted columns supported the vaulted ceiling, disappearing into ornate fretwork. It truly was magnificent, if one could ignore the constant groans of engines, hisses of steam, and the click-clack of gadgets.

Taking a breath, Mr. Valen could note the smell of polished wood, fine cigar smoke, lavender water, and the faint, clean tang of ozone from the humming arc lamps illuminating the finer art pieces.

The air was cool and dry, a stark contrast to their drenched forms, but they were not the only ones soaked.

One thing Mr. Valen noted was the fact that most of these wet people would be allowed to enter a strange room, after paying with what looked like coins, before coming out completely dry.

Unfortunately, it would seem that they did not share that luxury as slaves, slaves who had no money.

"Technology has come so far, I'm sure you would feel at home here more than anywhere else," Dynatós quipped, his smile widening slightly.

Upon hearing those words, Mr. Valen looked to him, his brows raised.

"No, wait!" Dynatós shook his palms like he had committed an offense. "I'm just referring to how most technological advancements can be attributed to your..."

«What a talkative young man.»

Not paying Dynatós any mind, Mr. Valen moved ahead, prompting the man to rush after him.

They took one of the few exits and ended up in a dim, winding hall. This time, illumination was provided by fungi, apparently a cultural norm more than anything else.

"So what do you plan to do now you're a Wizard?" Dynatós made conversation, but was instead met with silence from Mr. Valen.

"Oh, you don't feel like talking," Dynatós quipped upon noting Mr. Valen's silence, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "This watchtower sure is large though."

Soon, both parties reached a door that seemed to be made of some sort of wood, if such a material could even be found in this world, and they knocked.

"You may enter, Valen," Sophia's muffled voice called out. "The door is unlocked."

With those words, Dynatós twisted the nob and opened the door, allowing Mr. Valen to step in while he closed the door behind him, never entering the room.

The first thing he noticed was the thick crimson carpet that swallowed his footsteps, but he paid it no mind. The air smelled of polish, fine leather, and coal smoke, most likely from the steam-heated radiator disguised as a Greek urn; it hissed softly.

Seated calmly atop a massive four-poster was Sophia, her form covered by a grey nightgown, one that bore a striking resemblance to children's wear.

The bed was draped in emerald velvet curtains that complemented the carpet and obscured Sophia's face.

Taking a step Mr. Valen bowed slowly, but he never spoke.

Sophia observed his form, her brows raised from behind the curtain, and did not speak either. Using this pause, Mr. Valen glanced to his side, where he saw a writing desk with a telegraph key, an ornate blotter, and a clockwork music box.

The table was situated by the window, giving an unclear and foggy view of the outside world. Strangely enough, the sounds of the rain and crashing waves outside were muffled to the point of irrelevance.

Mr. Valen could still hear the faint pattering of the rain, however, thanks to his enhanced senses.

"Do you find my room more important than what I have to say, Valen?" Sophia asked, her words strangely probing. "You have also grown insolent as not to greet me upon your arrival."

«How cute, she's showing authority.»

Shaking his head, Mr. Valen, pointed to his lips then and then stood still.

At first, Sophia seemed confused by this gesture, but after thinking for a while, she squinted her eyes. "Your bet is preventing you from speaking?"

«Precisely.»

Mr. Valen nodded his head with a small smile.

Sophia, on the other hand, had about her a look of worry. "Will you be okay? Does this mean you can never speak again?"

«Not necessarily.»

Mr. Valen shook his head, allowing Sophia to let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders dropping as she spoke. "I have grown... fond of you. More so than is perhaps prudent to admit."

Mr. Valen nodded to those words, his brows squinted, urging her to continue.

"You see, I have three sisters, all of whom are vying for my father's title," Sophia spoke, her gaze shifting to the wall, dark walnut paneling that reflected the glow of the crystal gasolier above.

"Tick-Tock!" The grandfather clock went on, as the lady contemplated before saying. "The unfortunate circumstance I found myself in was a result of a scheme from one of my elder sisters, that's what I think, but I'm not mad, neither do I feel fear."

Saying this, she turned to Mr. Valen, her eyes gentle. "I find myself even somewhat grateful, for it led me to you. And though our acquaintance has been brief, I've come to trust you. You are an intelligent and dependable man. It feels... fated."

«Or delicate mental condition and reinforcement on my part.»

"My point is," Sophia shook her head with a small smile. "Would you like to be my personal attendant?"

Before Mr. Valen could answer, the woman then stood up and drew closer to him, revealing more of her delicate form, dried lavender coating his nostrils.

"Before you say anything," she began, in such a free manner that made it seem that she was talking to herself and not a person. "Know that my attendants are granted many benefits, benefits that come with high risk. My sister could try to coerce you to betray me, and after they find out that our world deal prevents that, they may try to poison you, or worse, assassinate you."

Sophia seemed to grow more worried as she spoke, her pace increasing. "You know what, perhaps this is not a sound idea. You would do very well as an ordinary servant. It would certainly be safer, and-"

Suddenly, Sophia was cut short as Mr. Valen gripped her shoulders, his eyes calm as he nodded his head. 'What a charming little rabbit.' He thought.

Seeing Mr. Valen's reaction, Sophia seemed to calm down, clearing her throat before saying. "You may leave."

With those words, Mr. Valen turned his back and prepared to walk away, until-

"Wait, Mr. Valen," Sophia called out, stopping Mr. Valen in his tracks. "There is something else I wanted to ask you, someone important... Back then, at the Misty Marsh, when we both passed out, were-were you the one who saved me, I know, Cerberus said it was the Infernal Warlord, but I have my doubts, I know it's ridiculous, and those soldiers were clearly stronger than you, but I smelt you and-"

Sophia cut herself short as she noted that she was talking a bit too much, a bit of excitement and naive curiosity coating her words.

She also noted that Mr. Valen had turned back and was giving her a strange look, one that translated in her head to: You know how I smell?

"Y-you, leave here at once," Sophia stuttered, watching as Mr. Valen walked away, a faint blush coating her cheeks.

As the door closed behind Mr. Valen his look of gentle calm transitioned to one of something unreadable.

«She is perceptive indeed, but I suppose I was indeed too reckless, but in the interest of survival I have no regret, thankfully, she did not ask a direct question and my inability to speak prevented me from answering, but I am sure she will ask again, and at that time I have to be prepared to lose the world mark.»

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