The door swung open on quiet hinges, releasing a wash of warm light and the faint scent of polished cedar.

It wasn't dramatic, not loud, just a smooth motion that let the room reveal itself slowly, like it had nothing to prove.

The light spilled across the threshold and touched the stone floor of the hall, softening it.

"This will be your room," I said, stepping aside and gesturing inside.

Sophia walked past me without hesitation.

Her boots made almost no sound as they pressed into the woven rug, the fibers bending and then settling again.

She stopped near the center of the room, her eyes lifting first, then moving in a slow circle, taking everything in.

The high ceiling, the clean lines, the heavy curtains that framed the tall window.

Nothing about her reaction was exaggerated.

"That's really high end," she said.

Her tone was casual, like she was commenting on the weather, but I caught the slight lift of her brow, the pause before she spoke.

She noticed more than she let on.

I smiled, a little proud despite myself.

"Isn't it?" I said.

"I can't let my sword teacher live in a small room."

She let out a short laugh through her nose, the kind that slipped out before she could stop it.

Then she crossed to the bed and dropped her pack onto it.

The mattress dipped under the weight, feathers whispering softly as they shifted and settled.

The sound filled the room for a brief second, then faded.

Sophia sat down, just on the edge, and her shoulders loosened like she'd been holding them up all day without realizing it.

The tension slid off her in a quiet way, not dramatic, just real.

I realized I was still standing in the doorway.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Just watching.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

"Do you want to stay here and check me out while I'm changing?" she asked, glancing back at me, one corner of her mouth lifting.

"I wasn't," I started, then stopped myself.

I stepped back, hands lifting slightly in surrender.

"I'll give you time."

She studied me for a second longer, then turned her head away.

"Ragnar," she said, glancing over her shoulder again, her voice lower now.

"Thank you."

It wasn't loud.

She didn't linger on it.

But it stuck anyway, like something pressed into soft ground.

I closed the door softly behind me and walked down the corridor.

The halls stretched long and wide, stone walls traced with gold inlay that caught the light as I passed.

Banners hung high, their fabric shifting gently with the draft, breathing like something alive.

My footsteps echoed, steady and familiar, grounding me as I moved forward.

Without slowing, I headed for the throne room.

The doors were already open when I reached them.

Inside, the room was a mess.

Papers covered the long table, some stacked neatly, others spread out like they'd been abandoned mid-thought.

Ink pots, seals, rolled parchments, everything was out, everything in use.

Aria stood behind the table, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back tight at the nape of her neck.

Her jaw was set as she sorted documents into piles that didn't seem to agree with each other.

She moved fast, precise, but there was tension in every motion.

"Oh," she said without looking up.

"Ragnar."

"You came back?"

I nodded, even though she couldn't see it.

"You know something," I said.

"After thinking it through, we can't let this opportunity go."

"We need to attack the Empress."

That finally got her attention.

She looked up sharply, eyes locking onto mine.

Then she smiled.

It wasn't relief.

There was no softness in it.

It was anticipation, sharp and focused, like a blade being drawn.

"Then when are we going?" she asked.

"And we should call Lucy with us."

I smiled, but it was wry this time.

"We'll go tomorrow."

"As for Lucy…"

I let the words trail off, watching her face closely.

"She has some things to do."

"She can't come with us."

The smile fell hard.

Aria's hands stilled on the papers, fingers pressing into the parchment like she might tear it without meaning to.

"What're we going to do without Lucy?" she asked.

Her voice dropped, losing its edge.

"She's the only one who could fight her if things went wrong."

I stepped closer, closing the space between us, and set my hands on her shoulders.

She stiffened at first, then relaxed when she felt me there.

Just a little, but enough.

"I've got a plan," I said quietly.

"Hear me out."

She took a breath and let it out in one slow line.

"I'm listening."

"The Empress is in an inn," I said.

"Right?"

She nodded once.

"We pay the owner," I said.

"Enough that he doesn't ask questions."

"He finds a reason to take her out of her room."

"Cleaning, repairs, whatever works."

Aria tilted her head slightly, considering.

"She won't like that."

"She doesn't have to," I said.

"While she's out, we slip in."

"Set a trap."

"When she goes back to bed, we weaken her and kill her."

The words hung in the air.

There was a beat.

Then another.

"And the people?" Aria asked quietly.

"We clear the area first," I said.

"If she goes all out…"

I didn't finish the sentence.

I didn't need to.

Aria nodded slowly.

"That seems like a good plan."

She straightened, some of the tension easing from her posture.

"So who do we take with us?"

I smiled, this time without holding back.

"It just so happens someone came with me who could help."

Her brow creased.

"Who?"

"My sword teacher."

"Sophia."

I shrugged lightly.

"I don't think she'll say no."

"She's a good person."

Aria studied my face, searching for something beneath the words.

Whatever she found there, she accepted it.

"Alright," she said.

"You said we set out tomorrow, toward the dusk port city."

"We'll take the whole group."

I nodded.

"That's the plan."

Then I smiled again, a little wider.

"Since Sophia's here, we can't be poor hosts and not welcome her properly."

Aria snorted.

"You're angling for food."

"Always," I said.

I was already turning toward the door.

The kitchen was alive in a way the halls weren't.

Heat pressed in from every direction, mixed with the clatter of pans and the sharp hiss of something hitting hot oil.

Steam curled up toward the darkened beams overhead.

The air smelled rich and warm.

Kalia stood at the counter, knife flashing as she worked, sleeves dusted with flour.

Her movements were fast and sure, like she'd done this a thousand times and could do it a thousand more without thinking.

For a moment, I wondered if she lived here.

"Kalia," I said, raising my voice over the sizzle.

"A guest is here."

"We should do our best to hook her with our food."

She glanced up, grin sharp and amused.

"Hook her?"

"With excellence," I clarified.

She laughed and pulled her sleeve higher.

"Okay."

"You can count on me."

I smiled and stepped back out into the hall.

Sophia was leaning against the wall just outside, arms crossed, watching me like she'd been there the whole time.

Maybe she had.

"I thought you didn't have enough time," she said lightly.

"But it seems you have enough time to play around."

I rubbed the back of my head.

"This, "

She waved it off before I could finish.

"Alright."

"Let's go train in the back yard or something."

Her eyes were bright.

Too bright for someone who'd just traveled.

Like the idea alone had already woken her up.

I nodded.

"We have a special room for training."

"Follow me."

We moved through the halls together, then out into the garden.

The air changed the moment we stepped outside.

Cooler.

Cleaner.

Green.

The sound of water threading through stone filled the space, steady and calming.

Just beyond the garden lay the open field.

Training dolls stood in rows, lined up like silent witnesses, their worn surfaces marked by countless strikes.

Sophia stopped at the edge of the grass and rolled her shoulders once, then again.

"This place seems nice," she said.

"Let's start with warmup."

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