The first time I met Lady Evershed, she lived in a simple apartment attached to her glass studio. Those days are clearly in the past. The stagecoach, drawn by a pair of magical, winged glass horses—though not truly animated, I note, which fills me with a thrill of pride to see how far my magic has come—leads us to the heart of the city, where grand edifices and dizzyingly-complex wards underscore the wealth and power of the lucky few inhabitants.

In a way, I muse, this will be my first time meeting [Lady] Evershed, who's truly taken up the mantle of her Class once more. Breakthroughs at her age aren't entirely unprecedented, but they are noteworthy enough that even Ezio had to look up when someone of her age had last pulled off such a remarkable feat.

My excitement rises as we disembark the coach and ascend the white marble steps to the government building that she has adopted as her seat of power. Unless I miss my mark, she is still riding the wave of momentum from achieving the second threshold, and may be able to provide me with some inspiration.

In return, I hope to teach her imbuing and see if she can achieve the vanishingly rare accomplishment of breaking through with two different Classes. According to Ezio, only three people in the history of Densmore have ever climbed to such heights.

The last double-Gold rank founded the dynasty that still reigns today. My imagination runs wild wondering how [Lady] Evershed's legacy will measure up.

Honor guards assemble in front of the metal-studded double doors at the top of the staircase. Palatial as the building appears, the way in is all fortress. Twin rows of gleaming armor form ranks on either side of the doors, which swing open with ominous slowness.

A quick with my Domain confirms their solid foundations. Each is Silver, and the density of their Skills tells me they've been training at a high level for a long time.

Baryl trots up the steps, motioning for us to follow, and he waves at the guards with a cheeky grin. The [Captain] at the front of the column salutes him crisply, though I sense a hint of amusement under the formality.

We follow until we reach the top. For once, no one challenges our identity. The guards all draw their swords with a flourish and hold them at sharp, forty-five degree angles, forming an archway of blades for us to pass under, and then we're inside. No questions, no uncomfortable power struggles. We're ushered into the halls of power as honored guests.

I could get used to this!

Inside, the ever-present bustle of Grand Ile's commerce falls away. Silence settles over us, thick and warm. Only Baryl's soft breathing makes much sound, and he marches us deeper into the administrative building without a quip or comment. He must still be stinging from his earlier rejection.

My eyes rove the interior of the building as we go. Opulence is often the purview of the newly-rich, those desperate to prove they belong in a higher echelon of existence. Evershed, once more a [Lady] in true, needs no such trappings of wealth to impress her guests. Austere walls of cut stone are bare of tapestries. Corners are not cluttered with statutes or artwork, but clean and well-lit, inhospitable to skulkers and schemers. Nonetheless, each material is chosen for a purpose, and there's undeniably top-tier craftsmanship on display.

"Anyone else feel like we're walking into a mausoleum?" Avelina asks in a voice that's too loud by half to be a proper whisper.

"No, but it feels like wading through quicksand," Mikko replies, frowning. "Each step feels heavier than the last. Kinda strange."

I shrug. "Seems normal to me."

Baryl snickers. "Guess your brother's the smart one, Nuri. Taller and handsomer, too. I concede my defeat."

"Probably a trick of his Domain. No way a twig like him is stronger than I am," Mikko chuckles, bumping Baryl's shoulder. And just like that, they've bonded over everyone's favorite pastime: making fun of me.

Easy, familiar laughter bubbles up at the teasing, but I glance at the newlyweds, my brow furrowed. Sure enough, the deeper into the palace we go, the more they're straining. Despite his prodigious strength, Mikko appears to struggle just as much as his wife, but Baryl and I are both completely unaffected, which tells me that there's something magical at play.

"Figure something out?" Avelina asks.

"How'd you know?"

"You always make a funny face when you think you should have put the details together sooner. Like you're embarrassed that you weren't the first to figure it out. Mad at yourself?"

I shake my head. "Not this time. I sensed [Lady] Evershed's reputation Skill as soon as we laid eyes on the city, so I haven't given much thought to it since arriving. I suppose it's a bit more pronounced here than in the streets, but Mikko's right. My Domain is a mitigating factor."

"The reality is, Nuri's a thief."

We spin around at the voice. The sharp words give way to a soft laugh, which takes the sting out of the announcement. [Lady] Evershed poses in the hallway behind us, her chin tilted up high. Backlit by mana lamps, she cuts a dramatic figure, appearing when we least expect it, and almost entirely unnoticed to my Domain.

Her metal-reinforced boots click against the marble flooring with each step as she strides toward us, echoing loudly in the sudden silence now that we've stopped chattering.

"You lent me your Skill, if I recall," I counter, bowing my head in respect to my master.

Beaming, she opens her arms wide and sweeps me up in a strong embrace—a show of affection I did not see coming. "Contrary as always. Welcome back, young man."

"Thank you for your invitation, [Lady] Evershed," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "Hearing from you made my day. You're like my favorite aunt. Seeing you again is a balm to my weary soul."

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"Keep talking that way and you might end up in my will, you little flatterer" she teases, taking me by the shoulders and pushing me away gently. "Let's take the measure of you, then. Looks like you've grown up splendidly."

"So have you," I blurt out, then blush furiously, hoping she doesn't think I'm implying she's old. Based on the way she cackles at me, she both interprets my meaning in the most uncharitable way possible and also doesn't care about the insult.

I step back from [Lady] Evershed and take stock of the changes since she broke through the all-important Threshold to Gold. Her back is straight and she stands taller. White as always, her hair nonetheless looks fuller, more glossy. Most striking of all, her cane is gone. She stands and walks with a spring in her step that wasn't there before. She's brimming with vitality, like a woman a third of her age.

Her power washes over me, twisting in a familiar way as she assesses my growth, and I can't hold in my surprise.

"You learned Viewing!" I exclaim, grinning at the satisfied expression on her face. I let her Domain scan me, clamping down on the urge to protect my inner world.

[Lady] Evershed's eyes twinkle with amusement, and her skin crinkles by her eyes when she smiles at me. "You're not the only one with ties to the [Inquisitors], Nuri."

Her senses wash over my Skill structures, and her eyes grow wide. "You certainly have been busy, haven't you? I don't even know what some of those Skills do!"

I wink and tap my temple. "Can't expect me to spill all my secrets. Demonstrations later."

"Aww, c'mon!" Baryl says. "Making us wait is just mean. We've been waiting a long time already for you to come back."

"Miss me?" I tease.

"Yes," he says, his voice small and unsteady as he drops the facade. Before me stands the uncertain young man I took under my wing a few years earlier. "I missed you. A lot, actually."

A lump grows in my throat. I tousle his hair without thinking, but he doesn't seem to mind this time. "Missed you too, little buddy."

"Demonstrations after lunch," [Lady] Evershed declares, smiling at us like a grandmother fawning over two young grandchildren playing together.

Her words are reinforced by a subtle wave of influence that's sophisticated enough that I never would have noticed it without my Domain. Immediately, everyone nods along, swayed by the words. I shiver, unable to help but compare her abilities to Scalpel, Tapirs, and all their rotten ilk, but I stop myself before my paranoia runs rampant. It helps to remind myself that I've made the decision to trust [Lady] Evershed. She's proven a staunch ally.

Besides, not all social Skills are evil. She's simply charming and persuasive; she's not overriding our wills, and I've got enough experience in that area now to answer the question definitively.

At the mention of lunch, a silver platter hovers out of a nearby alcove, floating in front of us and guiding us to an interior garden courtyard exposed to the sky. Heliconia and martagon lilies bloom in intricate patterns along the winding walkways, and lotus blossoms float in a small pond in the center of the open air retreat. None of them are native to the region, as far as I know, which means importing them alive must have cost a fortune.

A small wooden stage with upholstered seats and a table set for five borders the water. With a wave of her hand, [Lady] Evershed levitates the platter over to the table, where it touches down in the center. She snaps, and servings leap off the platter onto our respective plates.

Mikko gets a double portion, which makes me grin. She knows the path to his heart.

Avelina claps at the display. "Right! This is where you learned to manipulate objects with your willpower. No wonder you were breezing right through the palace, since you're familiar with [Lady] Evershed's Skill, while we're sweating away. Not very gentlemanly, Nuri."

"One of my many faults, I'm afraid. My deepest apologies, Ava," I say, bowing with an exaggerated flourish.

"You've failed introductions, as well," [Lady] Evershed points out wryly as she slips into her seat and picks up a cup of tea.

"Let's not pretend like you don't already know more about Mikko and Avelina than I do. You're meticulous to a fault," I protest.

"Objection. We're enumerating your faults, not mine," [Lady] Evershed says mildly.

"Let's move here, Ko," Avelina says, a note of delight in her voice as she mirrors our host and takes a seat, sliding her steaming cup of tea closer. "Anyone who can put Nuri in his place so effortlessly gets my vote of confidence."

"Appreciated, but we're not a democracy," [Lady] Evershed rejoins.

"So my vote doesn't count?"

Evershed's lips curve. "Only in spirit."

Mikko slides his chair out from the table, making room to sit, and repositions the sturdy, carved mahogany frame so that he can see both [Lady] Evershed and Baryl at the same time. He glances down at his cream-colored tunic and forest-green vest. "I feel underdressed. Nuri didn't tell us you were in charge of the entire city, just that you were influential."

"That's because I'm not a [Queen]. Grand Ile enjoys a plurality of leadership."

Baryl snickers, and Mikko is quick to join him. "Something tells me you're still first among equals. Honestly, I should have known."

"Elaborate," Evershed encourages.

"Nuri always finds himself in the middle of the most exciting events. He would meet the only glass blower in town who is also a member of the aristocracy. If someday he ever manages not to get caught up in politics or plots, I'll assume something is wrong with him."

[Lady] Evershed sips her black tea and sighs in contentment. "Yet you've followed him halfway around the world. Remarkable loyalty."

"Well, he's my brother," Mikko declares flatly, as though that settles it. I love him all the more for his staunch support.

"Refreshing. I must admit that I'm curious, however. What's your theory on why he runs into trouble so frequently? You must have an inkling."

"Who knows?" Mikko shrugs. "He must have offended an ancient fae who cursed him or something."

"Several of my rivals might agree that I'm a malediction, so perhaps there's something to your curse theory," [Lady] Evershed says, her eyes dancing with delight. "We've barely even started our lunch, and you're already proven a worthy diversion from the doldrums of day to day duties. I'm glad I invited you here."

"Yeah! You and the lovely fire girl relax, while we run your brother ragged. Now we can finally crush our remaining opposition," Baryl says, rubbing his palms together and grinning at me manically.

I set down my tea cup, savoring the warm, woody notes. "Trouble with your rivals? I'm happy to help if there's anything I can do."

"No murdering in Grand Ile. We're more civilized than the Menders," Evershed replies haughtily, every inch the [Lady] now that we've arrived at the crux of the conversation.

"Aw, c'mon. A body count would add to your street cred," Baryl complains.

"Not at her level of power," I say, not minding the deflated look on the young man's face. He's gotten a bit too blood-thirsty, if you ask me. "Street thugs might respect brute strength, but they don't know how to pull the levers that move entire kingdoms. Economy is far more powerful a motivator than big muscles or a sharp sword when you look at higher stakes."

"Precisely. And it just so happens that a young Master of the craft has been shaking up the economy with an influx of imbued items. It's cutting into profit margins, and some of my less imaginative compatriots are worried that their empires are crumbling before their eyes."

"We need money for what's to come—more on that later. I don't intend to stop stockpiling resources," I say, stroking my beard as I think through the implications of her comment. "But I am willing to work out an exclusive trade contract with Grand Ile if you're representing the city's interests."

[Lady] Evershed's smile widens. "A worthy outcome. We'll discuss tomorrow, after you've had a chance to settle. Now, finish your lunch so that I can satisfy my curiosity. I want to see what you can make with glass now that you once more have use of both your hands."

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