I am Viscount Victor Griswald, age 47, and I am the last remaining member of the Griswald Noble line.

"Lord Griswald, Master Shadow and Lady Maribel are here to meet with Prince Ren," announces the busty and stout little dwarf maid from the dining hall doorway.

"Send them in, please, Hilda," I say, looking up from the proposal Diana has been explaining to me. Seeing Hilda's relaxed smile makes me pause, a small smile forming on my own lips. It's nice to see how much she has changed in the last arc since I brought her from the Ashford slave market. All three of those poor women eventually came to trust that they truly were free. While the other two chose to accept jobs in Stonebrook, Hilda had asked to stay.

Given her excellent attitude, strong work ethic, and the way she gets along with the rest of the staff, Silfy and I agreed to keep her on full-time. She also brings with her valuable experience as a rune smith. And I'd be lying if I said a large part of my decision didn't come down to her particularly generous curves. She's a pretty little short stack, but also looks durable enough that I don't have to worry about breaking her.

"Master, you're making that face again," Diana says, poking my arm with the back of her quill, snapping me out of an increasingly lewd daydream.

"Right," I mutter, just as the tall and heavily built masked adventurer Shadow and his young partner, Lady Maribel, make their way down the long table toward me.

"Thank you for hosting our meeting with the prince, Lord Griswald," comes Shadow's deep voice from behind his mask. His footsteps land with a heavy thud against the polished floor as he approaches.

"Excuse me!" Hilda calls, rushing after them. Shadow steps aside, letting her pass. She hustles ahead to pull out the seat adjacent to mine.

"Please, take a seat," Hilda says with a bow.

Instead of immediately sitting, Shadow silently gestures for Maribel to step past him. She offers Hilda a polite, "Thank you," and takes the offered chair.

Shadow pulls out the seat next to her—beating Hilda to it—and carefully lowers himself down. Despite his caution, the sturdy wooden chair groans under his weight.

"Will you be needing anything else?" Hilda asks, glancing first at our guests, then to me.

"That will be all, thank you," I say with a nod.

She bows politely, offers a pleasant smile, and turns to stride confidently toward the parlor. My eyes follow the sway of her hips for perhaps a beat too long—until I glance up and meet Maribel's eyes with an eyebrow raised.

I quickly recover, turning toward her as if I'd meant to address her all along. "So, Lady Maribel, Master Shadow," I begin smoothly, "you've completed over a hundred quests in my domain—everything from ingredient gathering to goblin culling, and even rescuing my dear Diana from bandits. The people of Stonebrook, my household, and I owe you both a great debt."

"Yes, thank you so much," Diana adds earnestly.

"It was no problem," Shadow replies, his voice calm and even.

"I'm glad we could help," Maribel adds with a modest shrug. "But we just did the jobs you hired us for."

"Don't sell yourselves short," I chuckle. "Being paid for your work doesn't change the fact that you've risked your lives for the people of this land many times. "

"And yet I still know so little about you both," I say, leaning in with curiosity. That's a massive understatement. These two adventurers—an unusual pair—appeared rather suddenly about a year ago and somehow became Stonebrook's heroes almost overnight. And yet, despite all they've accomplished, no one seems to know a thing about who they really are.

"For example," I continue, turning my gaze to Shadow, "why do you wear a mask?"

"I'd rather not say," Shadow replies flatly.

"Oh, come now. Is it because you're horribly disfigured or something?"

"And why are you five inches taller and a fair bit bulkier than the last time we spoke?" Diana adds, eyes narrowing slightly, the faintest glimmer of blue light flickering behind them.

There's a heavy pause. Shadow says nothing, his entire body locked in that unnatural stillness of his. I lean forward slightly, focusing all the weight of my signature glare on him—a look that's made grown men confess crimes they hadn't even committed.

Still, he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Doesn't twitch. The mask hides whatever might lie beneath, but his silence is more defiant than any expression.

So I pour it on thicker.

The tension grows. Maribel, though not even the target of my stare, begins to squirm under the pressure. Her fingers fidget in her lap. She tries to look anywhere but at me.

Then she cracks.

"He's cursed!" she blurts out.

In the silence that follows, the only sound is the soft creak of Shadow's armor as he slowly turns his head toward her—what I can only assume is a displeased expression beneath the mask.

Maribel takes a steadying breath and continues in a calmer tone.

"His whole body's been disfigured by a curse. It prevents healing magic from working. That's why he uses mechanical limbs—to replace what he's lost. When he swaps out parts, it changes how he looks. Sometimes taller, sometimes bulkier."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise, letting go of my intimidating aura. He's lost limbs to a curse and still works as an adventurer? That's impressive. I've heard of curses that prevent healing—Edric Drakemore famously used one on the demon lord. That single move is credited with ending the war, disabling the enemy commander without taking his life.

"Curses like that aren't efficient," I explain thoughtfully. "They're difficult to cast, slow to act, and rarely used in day-to-day combat. But during the Demon War, both sides resorted to them. Not because they killed quickly—but because they didn't. Crippling a soldier forces the enemy to devote extra manpower to evacuate and care for the wounded. It disrupts supply lines, morale, and battlefield momentum."

I lean in and give Shadow a knowing look before adding, "You've seen that firsthand, haven't you? I assume you're a veteran of the Demon War... as I am."

"Lord Griswald, I must ask that you respect my privacy on this matter," Shadow says, his voice calm but resolute.

I raise a hand gently, stopping him. "Say no more. I understand. You carry your burdens with grace. To serve your kingdom, and to continue serving it now as an adventurer—it speaks volumes. Thank you for your service."

He starts to object—"That is not—"

—but I cut him off with a firm shake of my head. "No need for modesty. Your scars are badges of honor, proof of a sacrifice that most will never understand."

"I don't wish to be known as a tragically disfigured monster." His tone carries the edge of irritation. "And please don't make me cast Lion's Heart on Maribel just to protect her from your intimidation."

"So… is the prince coming or…?" Maribel interjects, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. Her voice is tight with barely concealed annoyance.

"He's on his way," I say with a dismissive wave, before turning my attention to her. "And you, Lady Maribel—you look quite young. How old are you?"

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"Sixteen."

"Only sixteen? Are you still living with your family?" Diana asks, surprised.

"My parents are dead," Maribel says, her voice suddenly cold. "They died because greedy nobles restricted access to the healing they needed."

I sit back in my chair with a sigh, not breaking eye contact with her glare, but meeting it with calm compassion. I know all too well what it's like to lose your family to the corrupt power struggles of the nobility. My wife and only son were assassinated while I was off fighting someone else's war of oppression. I've seen firsthand how the common folk suffer at the hands of malicious or incompetent lords.

So I understand why she looks at me the way she does. Why she lumps me in with them. Even if she's wrong, I don't blame her.

"Our master is not like those—" Diana starts to protest, but I raise a hand to cut her off. My servants, who know me well, are always quick to defend my character when someone tries to tie me to the nobility's rot.

"I'm sorry you lost your parents," I say, and there's genuine empathy in my voice. "And I share your hatred for what so many nobles have done to this kingdom."

"Hate them? But you are one of them," she snaps, glancing around the room. Her gaze lingers on the fine furnishings, the wealth on display. "Just a tiny fraction of the money you spend decorating this place could save hundreds of lives. It's not fair."

I sigh—not from frustration, but with the weight of experience pressing on my chest. I meet Maribel's eyes across the table, steady and calm.

"You're right—it's not fair," I admit. "But tell me, Lady Maribel, what would you have me do? Empty my vaults? Scatter gold to the wind? I could sell my lands, surrender every title, give away all I own to the poor... and it still wouldn't be enough. Not even close."

She doesn't answer, but I see the tension in her posture—the way her fingers curl around the arms of her chair.

"If I did that, what would happen to the people who rely on me now? Diana, Silfy, Mira, Hilda—all women I freed, who found not just safety, but meaning in their lives here. And what of the families in my domain? The children who go to sleep with full stomachs because I've worked tirelessly to build an economy that doesn't punish them for being born without status?"

I let my gaze drift for a moment toward the window, where the rooftops of Stonebrook stretch into the golden afternoon light—peaceful, thriving. Then I turn back to her, gesturing toward both her and Shadow. "Tell me, who else would pay adventurers like you to protect those people from monsters? Have you ever known another city with so many quests offered purely for the good of others?"

"I don't deny my privilege, or my wealth. But I don't hoard it, and I don't waste it. I put it to work—for them. That's what sets me apart."

Maribel glances away, her expression softening. Shadow offers a quiet nod of agreement.

"Life will never be fair, Maribel. That's not something any of us can fix alone. But wealth? Power? Those aren't the enemy. They're just tools. Power is like fire—put it in the wrong hands, and it burns. But in the right hands, it brings light, warmth, and hope."

Her gaze returns to mine, not hostile anymore—just thoughtful. The anger is still there, smoldering, but no longer aimed at me.

"You're not like the nobles I've known," she murmurs, her voice tinged with something that sounds almost like regret.

I allow myself a faint smile. "I'd be disappointed if I was."

"I'm proud to support you, Lord Griswald," Shadow adds, his tone firm. "You've paid us well—not for your own glory, but to help your people. That alone proves the kind of man you are."

Maribel looks between us, then bows her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Lord Griswald. I've seen the good you've done… I just didn't think it was possible for someone like you to be different."

"No offense taken—I consider you both friends," I say warmly, letting the moment settle into something lighter.

"Though I am curious… if you have no family, where are you staying?" I ask, my tone shifting with concern. Sixteen is far too young to be living alone, adventurer or not. The world is unkind, and I worry someone might try to take advantage of her.

"I've got a room at the Rabbit's Paw in town," Maribel replies casually.

"You live alone? At sixteen?" Diana chimes in, clearly sharing my concern.

"I live with Shadow," Maribel adds, nodding toward her towering partner.

Immediately, Diana and I exchange looks—and then both of us turn sharp, suspicious gazes on Shadow. He freezes, somehow even more still than normal, under the weight of our judgment. No matter how you slice it, the apparent age gap makes the arrangement… questionable.

"It's not like that," Shadow mutters, planting his face in his palm with an audible sigh.

Before I can press the matter further—or issue some veiled threat about safeguarding Maribel's honor—the door at the end of the hall swings open once more.

"Prince Ren and his attendant have returned!" Hilda announces proudly, her voice clear and almost musical in its enthusiasm.

"Thank the gods," Shadow mutters under his breath.

"Please, show them in," I say with a wave of my hand.

This time, Hilda practically sprints ahead, clearly determined to fulfill her hostess duties properly. We all watch as she hurriedly pulls out a chair across from us, beaming with pride.

Ren enters, followed closely by Lady Willow. He offers a half-hearted smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he says, attempting a tone of cheerfulness—but the dark circles under his eyes and the slump in his shoulders betray his true condition.

His shirt is dusted with ash, the right sleeve visibly singed. Black bags weigh down his reddened eyes, and his unruly black hair is even more disheveled than usual. He looks like he's just survived a gauntlet—and barely.

Willow settles beside him with her usual unshakable composure, radiating calm as though she'd just stepped out of a garden instead of whatever ordeal they've been through.

"I was working on something…" Ren begins, then trails off with a sigh. "Anyway, I may have overdone it."

Hilda beams at me, gives a respectful bow, and quietly takes her leave. Maribel's eyes follow her until the door closes behind her. The moment it clicks shut, she turns back to me with a skeptical look.

"Okay, seriously—what's going on with her? Why is she so happy?"

"Our lord keeps all his servants well taken care of," Diana replies with a faint smirk.

"Lord Griswald hired her as a blacksmith," Willow chimes in with her usual breezy calm. "Built her a forge at the back of the estate and provided her with mithril to craft whatever she desires—instead of cleaning."

"She wasn't very good at cleaning," I add with a shrug. "But she seems to enjoy smithing. She keeps half the profits from anything she sells. Seems like a fair deal to me."

"She and Jade get along well," Ren mentions.

Then he sighs, his posture shifting as he steels himself.

"But let's move on to the reason I asked to meet with you."

"Yes, can we please do that?" Shadow mutters, sounding distinctly exasperated.

"I'd like to hire you two to escort me to the Hyperion Kingdom to the north," Ren says. "I'll also need use of your wagon to transport a large supply of potions to sell in the capital's market."

"Just an escort mission?" Maribel asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's about a two-day trip each way. How long are we staying there?"

"That's the thing," Ren replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll probably be there for an arc. I want to establish a trade agreement between Lord Griswald's domain and the Hyperion Kingdom."

"The young prince here has a rare talent for potion-making," I say proudly.

I truly am impressed by the boy. He is extraordinarily gifted and fiercely driven to learn. I have little doubt he'll grow into a powerful mage—perhaps the most powerful this kingdom has ever known. And yet, what stands out even more is his temperament. He has a good head on his shoulders, far wiser than his years. Watching him grow has given me something rare in these troubled times: hope for the future of this kingdom.

"Ren collects the herbs he needs for his potions from lands under Lord Griswald's protection," Diana adds. "And the lord has given him permission to negotiate a trade deal with Hyperion. In return, the domain will receive twenty-five percent of the profits."

"Will you be paying us to protect you the entire time we're in Hyperion?" Shadow asks.

"I'll pay you fifty silver each for the journey there and back," Ren replies. "While we're in Hyperion, you'll receive an additional five silver per day. I'll also cover your lodging and meals. However, I won't require you to stay with me—you're free to take other quests in the area as you see fit."

"And when do you want to leave?" Maribel asks.

"Tomorrow morning."

The two of them exchange a thoughtful glance. Shadow leans down beside Maribel and they whisper briefly before he straightens back up.

"We'll accept the offer," he says, as Maribel nods in agreement.

"Excellent. To make this official, I've prepared a quest contract," Diana says, sliding a parchment across the table. "Once all parties sign, I'll ensure it's delivered to the guild for your records."

Shadow and Maribel take turns scanning the document before signing it. Ren accepts the contract with a yawn, scribbles his signature, and hands it back to Diana.

"I look forward to working with you," Ren says, visibly drained as he rises to his feet. "Please meet back here at sunrise tomorrow."

"Understood. See you then," Shadow replies as he and Maribel stand as well.

I watch as Lady Willow and the prince head off toward their chambers, while Shadow and Lady Maribel make their way toward the manor's front door. Diana and I remain seated, our attention drifting to the window just in time to catch them unhitching their horses and setting off down the road toward Stonebrook.

"Did you use your Appraisal on him?" I ask, my tone low and curious.

"I did," Diana replies, frowning slightly. "But it didn't reveal anything."

"Did the spell fail?" I press, puzzled. I've come to depend on her ability to assess people and objects with near-perfect accuracy—she's never been wrong before.

"No, it didn't fail... I think he blocked it," she says slowly, concern creeping into her voice. "Which raises the question: does he have something to hide?"

I lean back in my chair, stroking my beard with one hand while rhythmically tapping the armrest with the fingers of the other. It's troubling.

I was willing to tolerate the mystery surrounding the adventurer known as Shadow while he was just completing quests on my behalf. But with Prince Ren preparing to spend a full arc in his company, I'd hoped for a clearer picture. I didn't know exactly what Diana's Appraisal might have shown—but I certainly didn't expect it to be completely blocked.

Did Shadow somehow know Diana would attempt it? How could he? Unless… he always keeps his defenses up, anticipating such intrusions. Is he that paranoid? Or simply that cautious?

"I admit, it is suspicious," I murmur at last. "But it's just as likely he's simply a private man… maybe even ashamed of his condition. In the end, a man shouldn't be judged by the mask he wears, but by the choices he makes. And by that measure, Master Shadow—both as a veteran and as an adventurer—has proven himself a man of honor."

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