Suspicions and conflicts

-15 minutes ago, elsewhere in the mansion-

Nimue eyed the lengthy corridor as she walked down its length. The sun rays entering through the windows right next to her shoulder felt very warm. The air had a nice, dry smell to it - the kind Nimue always found pleasant. Through the windows, she caught a glimpse of the sprawling fields beyond the estate, golden and wild. She could picture some memories of when she'd run around the grass fields in front of the estate. Reminding herself of how she felt back then, the elf woman felt a small smile tug at her lips.

It vanished the moment she glanced down.

The basket in her hands felt heavier than it should, the thin cloth hiding the food from her green eyes.

'Why would you even do this, Lucas...' her lips stiffened at the thought of the white-haired man. Since he'd told her of the basket, her mind was filled with confusion. Food was served daily to the guests. She'd, of course, heard that Seraphina Liveren was a picky eater, but even someone with a tongue like that had to eat something. Just what was Lucas thinking...?

*Sigh*

She sighed sharply, forcing the question from her mind. Lucas had asked it of her. That alone was reason enough, even if it meant facing the girl she least wanted to see.

Rounding a corner, her stride slowed. Standing before Seraphina’s door was a tall elf, silver hair catching the light. His eyes found her, and surprise became etched on his proportional face.

"=An elf...?=" he murmured, tilting his head. "=Who are you?="

Nimue bowed lightly, voice brisk. "=Nimue, a maid of this house. I bring food for Princess Seraphina.="

The guard frowned for the briefest of moments. Then, he knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

"=Princess. There is a maid with food for you.="

A moment of pause ensued.

The man glanced back at Nimue, his gaze sweeping over her. It was sharp and assessing but without hostility. Just... checking.

"=Let her in, Ginis,=" came the muffled answer.

The man exhaled shallowly, his complexion brightening up somewhat with a benign smile. As his gaze met Nimue's, he said, "=Princess has still not eaten today. I hope this cycle has finally been broken,=" there was relief in his tone as he pushed on the handle and stood to the side, holding the door for the black-haired woman.

Nimue nodded, giving the man a small smile before taking the invitation. However, her thoughts hardly matched her actions.

'Here or there, royalty is all spoiled brats...' she mused. 'I wonder how she'd do, had she starved a few days more...'

Stepping inside, she felt the atmosphere change. The room, shielded from the searing heat of the outside by the corridor on the side and a whole floor above, was considerably chiller. Nimue felt a tiny part of herself stir in contentedness, relishing in the feeling of cold colliding with her skin, almost making goosebumps appear.

However, that instantly changed when the door clicked behind her.

With a glare, Nimue scanned the room instantly, locating the green-haired elf sitting on the edge of the bed. Her gaze was aimed toward the window, watching the milky clouds languidly move across the sky. A waterfall of untied green hair curtained her face, masking whatever thoughts churned behind those pale blue eyes. In her hand, Nimue caught sight of a small, delicate handkerchief. She recognized the style. It was Lucas’s.

Her fists clenched before she realized it. The basket's handle whined quietly in her grasp, barely holding together against the pressure.

Then, Seraphina turned. Their gazes met.

A flicker of tension rippled through the princess's frame.

"=...it's you,=" she half-stated, half-asked.

Nimue's eyes narrowed dangerously. "=What? Were you expecting someone else?="

Seraphina stood up. "=It's just... I didn't think you'd come. I thought you didn't want to meet any of us.="

A sharp exhale left Nimue's mouth, her expression flat. "=I'm here only because Lucas asked me to.="

Without further comment, Nimue placed the basket of food on the bed. Immediately thereafter, the black-haired woman took a defined step back. However, she did not turn away, watching the Liveren Princess with apt wariness, but also a thin layer of interest.

Seraphina stepped closer. The room's tensile atmosphere surged as she looked into the container. Almost unexpectantly, she frowned.

"=It's... clean...=" a quiet mumble left her mouth before her blue eyes met Nimue's green.

"=Clean?=" the black-haired maid scoffed. The disdain in her voice was unmistakable. "=What nonsense are you muttering now?=" she asked, looking at the basket briefly. However, it was nothing unusual - some bread, vegetables, and fruits.

"=I...=" Seraphina trailed off briefly, scanning Nimue's posture before sighing. "=The food. It's different from the one served to us at meals. Untainted.="

"=Untained?=" Nimue repeated, her voice a dangerous low growl.

Seraphina didn't answer instantly, seemingly searching for something in Nimue's pose. "=Strange,=" she finally said, having not found anything. "=I thought you were the one responsible. But that reaction... you didn’t know. But I thought your kin, if anyone, could feel it.="

'Spewing nonsense as usual. This brat doesn't know what she's playing.'

"=Careful now,=" Nimue spoke through her teeth. Small threads of mana appeared at her fingertips, shimmering with every minute twitch of her muscles. "=Lest you speak your final words here.="

Seraphina visibly tensed up at the sight. She stepped back slightly, the curtain of her green hair swaying.

"=You should know, Cileres is with Lucas,=" she said cautiously, but the words felt like a defensive measure.

'What?' Nimue flinched, her gaze scanning Seraphina's posture. The Liveren Princess only stood there, but there was quiet defiance in how her blue eyes looked at her. '...I haven't seen that spirit anywhere today. None of my nets were triggered, either.' she suddenly felt queasy, understanding that the person in front of her might've not lied.

Still, she refused to show weakness, baring her teeth.

"=Are you threatening me?=" she growled, her mana snaking lower along the floorboards.

"=No,=" Seraphina denied carefully. "=I want to understand you. That’s all. We’re alone. No one will hear us.="

Nimue's eyes narrowed. "=I don't want understanding, much less from the likes of you. All I want is to be left alone.="

The green-haired elf deflated. "=Very well, then.="

The black-haired woman visibly recoiled, stunned. She expected anything but compliance. Seraphina did not strike her as the type of person to let go easily. "=What are you playing now?="

"=Nothing but sincerity,=" she answered. "=I will leave you to your own devices, as per your request. However, I want you to answer one question first. Do that, and I promise this will mark the end of this charade.="

Nimue’s jaw tensed. Every fiber of her screamed distrust.

"=One question, and then what? Another, and another?=" she almost hissed with cynicism. "=I've heard that lie before. Just a little more. Just one more test, just one. More. Fucking. Day,=" her voice lowered, the air suddenly chillier. Her fingers twitched, her hand ready to snap in Seraphina's direction.

"=No. I'm being sincere, Nimue,=" Seraphina shook her head, albeit her posture betrayed that she was growing increasingly nervous. "=One question, the end. I know when to stop prodding.="

"=Clearly, you don't,=" she rebutted instantly. Then, she sighed. For a terse, tense moment, she considered her options. And despite herself, Nimue could not help but sense the sincerity in Seraphina's tone. Especially since she knew how strong she was, the green-haired elf was most likely not playing mind games. "=Fine. One question. And it best not be 'how Limen made you',=" she said through her teeth, glaring at the taller elf.

Seraphina nodded, her expression solemn. Her blue eyes shimmered as her mouth parted, "=From Limen's records, I understand there were four groups. Given your survival, you must've belonged to the final 'D' series,=" she began, but halted when she noticed a slight reaction.

Nimue's heart froze at the words. Her fingers twitched, the mana threads receding slightly as though preparing to lunge. "=Don't say that word again,=" she warned, her eyes glistening with fiercer hostility than before.

"=I... I'm sorry,=" the green-haired woman nodded, recognizing the sudden reaction. "=But to continue... I do know there were eight of you. My question is, what happened to the others?="

Nimue scoffed. However, she couldn't help but feel her muscles tremble deep within. "=They're dead.="

"=Dead?=" Seraphina's brow raised, genuine confusion printed on her face. "=But fou--="

Seraphina didn't get to finish. Instantly, Nimue's hand jerked, a single thread of mana slicing through the air, passing straight by her cheek.

"=And here it is,=" she snarled, her finger twirling. In an immediate response, the mana thread receded, tying itself around Seraphina's neck loosely. "=Another question. Exactly like everyone else.="

"=I-I didn't mean it,=" Seraphina's voice shook, her countenance turning frightful as she understood her misstep.

"=Of course you didn't,=" Nimue's voice sept with sarcasm. The mana thread pulsed, tightening a little, immediately eliciting a flinch from the green-haired elf. "=Let me guess, a slip of the tongue, huh?="

Seraphina didn't answer, her body shaking with slight tension as she instinctively reached for the string around her neck. As a few seconds passed, the black-haired maid released a heavy sigh, letting her power wane, the threads disappearing one by one. She wanted to do something, she sincerely did. But within her, she knew; acting upon this would ultimately bring more harm than good. Just a warning was sufficient. For now, at least.

"=You got your answer,=" she said bitterly, pivoting on her heel. "=Remember your promise. If you know what’s good for you.="

No reply followed her. No, rather, she didn't wait for any.

Her steps immediately carried her into the corridor. Her countenance once again turned timid and maid-like, and she exchanged a shallow nod with the guard before stepping into the corridor.

However, that didn't stop her heart from beating thunderously. Nimue hastily walked a good distance away, turning two corners before deciding it was far enough. Confirming she was indeed alone in the corridor, she leaned on a nearby wall.

She swallowed heavily. Seraphina's inquiry stirred memories she hoped never to experience again. Her hands shook, and her breathing became shallower.

*BA-THUM!*

Nimue clenched her fist, bringing it to her chest as she began coughing. The stinging yet powerful sensations emanating from within wouldn't calm down, spreading like cold in her veins.

-D̸͔̕o̷͖͋ ̷y̴o̵u̶ w̷̏͜ant r̸̜̈́e̴͚͝venge̵̝̔?̴̥̚

-Hä̶́ͅv̷̱̋e you sẹ̴͐e̷̜̒ṉ̸͌ B̶̴̴̶̴̸͉̤̗̯͓̭̆̉̎̎̍̌̕-̶̴̵̸̶̴̖̭͙͇͉̤̔̀̎͗̿͗͘2̷̷̵̴̶̵̛͕̪̭̭̰̰̋̂̐̅̚͝4̸̸̶̵̶̴̶̨͕̬͙̞͎͚̅͐͗̀̏͘͜͝͝ aroun̶̬̑d̴͇͘?̴͖̾

The whispers rang in her mind quietly, distorted beyond recognition yet carrying hints of a past she didn't want to know anymore.

"=Stop it,=" her voice came out weakly, quietly, as she closed her eyes, blocking out the sun bathing her in its rays.

-Str̵̥͐ả̷͖n̴̲͝ge, I ̶̼́h̸̩͗aven̶͕͝'̴̫̓t̸̻́ ̸̨̕s̵̽ͅeen̷̖͐ ̶̝͘h̶̷̷̴̷̡̳̰̰͓͈͓̠̊̂͊̋̓͑͋́ę̸̵̴̷̶̴̟̳̳̫͉̝͙͔͌̈́̀́͠͠͝͝ř̴̵̶̷̷̴̡̩̣̣͚̯͖̼̐̍̉͊̊͘͝ ̴̖̆s̴̻̾i̷̩̐ṇ̵͆ce two̷̰͝ ̶̙̾s̶͎͠ľ̴̯e̸͓̒eps ạ̷͛g̶̤̕ŏ̷̭.̶̼̾

-̸̨̚W̶͈͠h̴͉͛a̷͙̽t̵͔͂ ̵̡͆ḓ̴̈́o̷͕͘ yoǘ̴̫ ̷̩̚m̷̢̽e̵̗͇͊̔an yo̶̹̟̭̕ų̸͈̓̔ ̸̢̻̣̈̈c̴̛̙͖̹͐͘a̷̞̼̅̽́n't r̷͙̽ẽ̴̗m̸̥͕̉ě̸̝̞͛̔m̸̳̮̎̽̓b̸̥̬̊̾e̷̸̵̵̴̸̷̢̛̱͉͖̲̭̘̖̳͍̿͒̈́̊̉̂͊̉̅͘͜͝ͅr̴̷̸̷̷̵̛͈̝̻̞͙̲̒͂̋̀̄̐̑́̈͐͜?̷̶̵̸̷̨̙̖͍͉̉̂͗͊͝

"=Stop...!=" she pleaded. Her veins ran cold as she breathed heavily, supporting herself on the wall.

Cold sweat ran down her spine, a dreadful sensation like a hundred hands grasping at her shoulders. She could feel them - dozens of stares, thousands of words, and no meaning behind all of them. They were empty. Hollow.

Dead.

"!"

The **** with which her hand snapped closed **** her joints to let out a loud cracking noise.

She **** herself to breathe. Deeper, ever deeper, focusing on her heartbeat.

*BA-THUM!*

Slow and steady, but ever-present.

Nimue felt her body relax after a few seconds. Brushing her hands on the wall behind her, she slowly straightened to an upright position. Still calming down, she fixed up her attire hastily.

Suddenly, Nimue coughed, unable to hold it in anymore. She covered her mouth, wet air escaping her lungs. Although she could not feel the taste of blood, she knew well; she was dangerously close to overstepping the boundary.

However, as she took her hand away from her mouth, she noticed it. Blood sept from a wound. Her fingernails have pierced her skin.

She frowned. She barely even felt it.

Turning on her heels, Nimue cast one last, sidelong glance across the corridor before moving forth.

However, she could feel her body begin to fight. Her lungs felt like they were about to be set ablaze yet frozen over. A sensation of cold crept up her fingertips. She could faintly feel the small vial in her pocket - the remedy to her state - and reached out to get it.

However, a thick, heavy voice made her freeze in place.

"Well, if it isn't the brave maid," Illan sounded from a couple of meters behind her. "Hold it for a second."

Nimue flinched. Turning around to face the burly man, she immediately noticed his brown eyes scanning her posture lightly. The light getup on his body was fitting for his strong posture. His hair almost glistened, clean and swaying with every gentle gesture. The small smile on his face could easily be mistaken for benevolence, but Nimue had seen more than one face the Breshnaw man had shown. In particular, the ones he 'graced' Lucas with...

'What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be in a meeting with the ladies of the house right now...?' she pondered, noticing the man approach closer before halting barely a meter from her.

But the thoughts were useless against the trial that now awaited.

-5 minutes ago-

Illan let out a silent sigh, feeling the faint scent of wine enter his nostrils as he put down his chalice. It was only about his third serving, and the ****'s weak nature shone brilliantly. It was tasty, but he barely even felt tipsy.

He glanced to his right, finding his fiance. Ophelia sat in her chair, languidly speaking with a lean, blonde elf seated opposite of her. On the other side of his fiance sat her mother, her sitting pose exuding pressure and a sense of authority as it always did. All three of them had also small containers for their wines, albeit truthfully, Illan could barely recall them all drinking more than a few meaningless sips.

The luscious images he could see all around were nearly too much for him to keep up with the conversation. Ophelia wore a beautiful, silver dress that shimmered almost as greatly as her hair did. Her perfume was a perfect scent that he could tell easily was aimed at making him go crazy - an almost lustful composition of sensations that made his mind faintly hazy, his pants tight with need.

But that wasn't even the best part. The shape of his fiance's bubble butt was finely defined by her getup. Ophelia's prodigious bustline seemed especially prominent today. He could swear he saw her nipples bulge slightly through the material like she subconsciously knew he stared, and enjoyed it. The unending cleavage she sported seemed to almost pull him in. It took considerable restraint to stare openly.

Ophelia's mother, Ismeria, was nothing to scoff at, either. Although noticeably slimmer, her body was as alluring as it was mature. Her large, matronly breasts were held hidden by her shimmering robe of a nice, golden color, as were her hips. Her eyes looked at the man in front of her with intelligence that spoke volumes of her state. She was a person who could easily distinguish between useful and otherwise. He smirked inwardly, knowing that she considered him the first group.

He breathed deeper.

'No, there will be time for that soon. Focus, Illan.' he berated himself quietly, taking note of where the conversation now was.

"Inallel's forces in Rigus are stabilizing the situation as we speak. I've received a report this morning," said the blonde elf, Lis'te. "If all goes well, we will be leaving on Saturday."

"That's splendid news," Ismeria smiled gently. "Then, I believe it's in our best interest that Princess enjoys the remainder of her stay. Perhaps, a small venture into Weydan would do her well."

Lis'te, however, didn't seem too happy about the suggestion.

"With all due respect, Lady Ismeria, I believe that Princess shall remain on the mansion's grounds until the end. We should take all possible precautions."

"The situation in Weydan is stable as of now," Ismeria replied. "I believe that if nothing else, Princess Seraphina may find herself quite enthralled by its structure. Besides, we will not be sending her alone. My daughter's fiance is a resident of Weydan. He knows the city better than most."

Illan straightened as the conversation veered toward him.

"I would be honored," he said with a practiced smile.

Lis'te gave him a respectful nod, but his attention was once again back on Ismeria. The conversation continued to unfold, concerning neither the brown-haired man nor Ophelia.

Illan let his thoughts diverge. He thought to the green-haired beauty, Princess Seraphina Liveren. She had left the room soon after dinner, but the impression she'd given was lasting. She was a demure presence of ethereal quality. Her blue eyes shone even prettier than Ophelia's, and her careful but free gait was as natural as it was glamorous. Her voice, although speaking a tongue he knew at best a few words in, was beguiling and serene.

He could not help but picture her as a whole. The green hair that cascaded like a waterfall, knocking on the back of her knees. The proportional face that held the softest of countenances. And above all else, her body.

Seraphina didn't sport a huge bust - if anything, she was moderately endowed there at best. However, her rear was another story. It strained against her dress in a similar way Ophelia's bust did, giving him a pretty good idea of its ample size. Its allure was only accentuated by the fact she wore clothing. Illan's heart beat with more fervor by the second.

He could already picture it. She had already shown a layer of interest in his person. She, a princess, for crying out loud! Illan could not help but imagine what she'd look like in a bit more... intimate situation. Perhaps, with Ophelia by her side. And, gods hold him down, with the allure of Ester to accompany them all. He felt his pants tighten further at the mere thought.

But then, another thought surged. The face of Lucas appeared in his mind, the man laughing as Illan mentioned his meeting with Princess Seraphina.

'That bird-brain bastard...' Illan's fist almost clenched under the table. Lucas could try to play it off, but he was smarter than his little deceptions; Lucas was making fun of him. 'Tsk. That guy has been really getting on my nerves lately.'

Lucas has always been an oddball to Illan. Despite having no class, he pushed through like he could attain one by mere effort. It was almost amusing how he stupidly thought so. The world operated on classes, and those were predestined by birth. The truth of the matter was that one's class most often manifested when they were going through early puberty. Classing after that time was extremely rare.

And it wasn't just Lucas. Illan could not, for the love of gods, understand why his family even allowed him to take lessons from a swordmaster, have him undergo procedures of Holy Mages, and even send him to the Academy. Whatever intent hid behind those decisions was beyond him. Was it his late father's wish they tried to uphold?

Illan sighed.

'Letting annoyances fester like this will lead to everything just breaking apart. You know what, let's just take a little stroll.'

He scanned the room again. However, much to his expectations, the conversation between Lis'te and Ismeria continued, with Ophelia occasionally chiming in for a sentence or two.

He leaned closer to his fiance.

"My lady, I will excuse myself for a few minutes," he whispered, feeling Ophelia's perfume hit him squarely in his nose. The aroma was almost mouthwatering.

The silver-haired woman glanced at him. "Why?"

"Nothing much, just nature calls," he responded with a nod. "Though, I wanted to ask, is Lucas around?"

Ophelia blinked, a glint of confusion gracing her beautiful contours. Her brows furrowed as she thought for a moment.

"I... don't know," she replied hesitantly, but her expression turned unreadable. "Maybe."

"Splendid. I will return in a few minutes, my lady."

Ophelia didn't answer, but Illan did notice that her fingers clutched slightly tighter. On her magnificent breasts, the tiniest of bulges appeared, invisible unless sought out.

He smiled inwardly.

...

Illan felt the sun's rays as he stood next to a window on the first floor. The warmth felt almost surreally good. It was almost as if it invited him to strip and let it bathe him in full.

'Feels nice.'

He hummed, deciding to take his steps elsewhere. However, as he turned the corner after a few seconds, he suddenly noticed a curtain of black hair swirl. A somewhat familiar maid stood by a wall, seemingly pausing in her duties to catch a breath. Nimue, as Illan remembered her name to be, was none the wiser to him looking at her.

He traced her body from the distance as she was turned sideways. This maid had an alluring, naturally teasing figure, accentuated by the outfit resting atop her body. Her breasts weren't nearly as big as Ophelia's, but there was no denying that she was on the larger side. Her hips were alluringly defined, her cheeks prominent yet hidden under her attire. The elf's figure was undeniably a delicious hourglass type - a sight he always enjoyed seeing on a woman. Her silky-smooth, black hair was made into a splendid bun, small chains hanging with tiny, jewel-like stones inserted into them, giving her a near-noble look despite her roots. On top of that, her face... there was no denying she was a picture of youthful beauty that humans rarely grew to. Truly, elves were on another level.

To think... such perfection did nothing but run errands for that mongrel, Lucas... Illan could almost feel himself simmering at the lost potential she held.

But then, he could feel something within his bubble. A thought occurred.

With such an allure, wouldn't it be better for everyone if she served him?

Hmm, perhaps...?

Illan could picture it in an instant. Him, on his bed, the black-haired maid jumping on his dick joyfully, screaming his name with pleasure. Together with her, Ophelia, Ester, and Seraphina, all four intent on showering him with love. And in the corner of the room, Lucas, completely broken and defeated, unable to muster any more defiance he usually put up, only watching him limply with eyes full of hateful impertinence.

The young Breshnaw's mouth curved gently. That imaginative future - imaginative for now, at least - was too good a thought to let go of easily. And to make that future a reality, he needed to take the first step.

"Oh, if it isn't the brave maid," he said, coming closer. The flinching of the elf failed to escape his gaze, and his steps gained grit in response. "Hold it for a second."

It took a long second for her to turn to face him. Her green eyes shone lightly, surprise etched on her lovely face.

"M-Mister Breshnaw," Nimue bowed her head, but a keen eye would see that her hands trembled slightly. "Was there something you needed?"

'Look at her. Already knows her place. I like that.' Illan smirked to himself, his lips stretching thinly. "Well, I was just looking for Lucas, but... fortune smiles on me," he raised a hand, bringing it near her face. She appeared to want to take a half step back but stopped herself. Illan felt his body heat up. Oh gods, how much he loved her behavior. It would make it so much better once he got a... proper... hold of her. "I did have something to tell you."

Nimue flinched slightly. Her gaze was focused on his eyes, seeing the thirst lurking within.

"I know you've been a maid to this house for a while now, but there's something that I always found quite enthralling about you. You spend a lot of time around Lucas," Illan said casually, stepping closer. Nimue flinched back, just barely, but recovered, lifting her chin a fraction.

"I serve the family," she answered, voice small but firm.

He chuckled lowly. "Loyalty. A rare thing. You strike a very pleasant nerve, Nimue," Illan replied. His eyes scanned how her hands were tied together as she was visibly unsure what to do. "I truly admire those who can stay loyal. You are a true treasure, to be sure."

"...thank you, mister Breshnaw," the elf maid hesitantly answered. Using the moment of silence, she made a tentative step to her side, putting a bit of distance between them.

"Where are you going, Nimue? I had more to speak about with you."

Her hand trembled as her moves came to a halt. With an unsure gaze, she looked at Illan, awaiting him to speak further.

"I'm sure you're aware, but soon, I'll be marrying Ophelia, and given that there's been an understanding between my family and Lady Ismeria's, I will achieve the title of a Marquis. Tell me, do you understand what this means?" he inquired, his voice tinted with anticipation.

"I-It means that you will become equal to Marquess Ismeria."

"Correct," Illan nodded his head gently. "That's why I have a proposal for you."

"...?" Nimue frowned ever so slightly, her expression turning to surprise.

"You deserve better," the bronze-eyed man nodded. "Why waste your time with Lucas? I can give you much, much more," Illan leaned in slightly closer. His hand raised, gently caressing Nimue's shoulder. "Just imagine it, Nimue," he continued, his voice teasing as he gently rubbed his fingers against her outfit.

"M-Mister Breshnaw, p-please stop it," her voice quivered.

"Don't worry," he said, sniffing her sweet scent. Oh, gods above, it was getting so difficult to resist anymore. "What say you that we get ourselves a little private space, and I can show you better what you can gain?"

Nimue trembled under his fingers. She made half a step to the side, slithering from under his grasp.

"P-Please stop it!" her voice raised, now sounding with a bit more warning.

"Shh," he hissed. Stepping slightly closer, he reached out, but it was not clear even to him if he reached for her arm or the nicely shaped breast near his hand. "Don't be scared, I won't hurt--"

Illan flinched, not finishing his sentence. Although all he could see was the pretty elf in front of him, a sixth sense - a Mage's sense - lit up in the back of his mind, warning him against something. It felt like an alarmingly fast movement of mana.

He barely had time to recoil back from the black-haired maid. His bronze eyes escaped sideways, just in time to see a fist speeding straight into his face.

*WHACK!*

The sudden sound rang in the corridor. Sensing that Illan's presence from right in front of her disappeared, Nimue hesitantly opened her eyes. What immediately came into view was the side of Lucas's face as he exhaled sharply. His teeth were gritted and bared as he frowned with an enraged expression. His right fist lowered from the striking position. As Nimue glanced to her right, she saw Illan on the ground, visibly confused at what happened. A pained groan escaped his mouth as he shuffled on the carpet.

Meanwhile, Lucas's hand gingerly ran across Nimue's shoulder, pulling her back a meter. His gaze softened, pure concern emanating from within his violet eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Nimue's heart thumped with power. Shakily, she nodded, feeling her eyes watering at their rims. For a second or so, she felt an inexplicable magnetism trying to pull her closer to him. But that motion was halted as Lucas took half a step forward, putting himself between Nimue and the Mage on the ground.

A few terse seconds passed.

"What the hell..." Illan shuffled with a pained groan, a hand going to his face as he inspected the damage. Suddenly, his brown eyes shot toward the two. "...Lucas?" he frowned, visible confusion on his face.

The man in question didn't answer, his amethyst eyes looking back at Nimue. He scanned her state cursorily and, noticing she appeared only shaken, turned back to face the man.

"What are you doing here?" Illan was already back on his feet, making a bit of distance from the two. Feeling up his chin, he winced. "Damn. I didn't expect you of all people to throw a mean punch," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But attacking your brother-in-law? That's low even for you, don't you think?"

Lucas's fists clenched. "Low?" he asked, his voice lower than usual. "Like what you just did?"

"We were just talking, dear Lucas."

"Bullshit," the white-haired man spat back angrily.

A second or two of silence passed, the two sizing each other. Lucas's serious expression met Illan's mildly amused one. They both knew; this conflict would only escalate.

But suddenly, he felt something tug at his shoulder. Almost flinching, Lucas met Nimue's gaze. The small maid was silent, but her mouth didn't have to move to convey the message her green eyes did.

He gazed away from her, ignoring her plea.

Nimue almost recoiled back, feeling the pressure the young master emanated. She could tell; he wouldn't step down, even if she pleaded with him all day. But that didn't mean she would sit quietly.

Forcing herself, she focused. Her heartbeat slowed, her power slowly coursing. She didn't need to do grand deeds. She only needed to pluck one string. One, singular strand she'd put one day in the past.

Having found it, she didn't waste time, tugging at it gently.

But then, she felt the reality catch up.

Her heart beat painfully, her veins pulsing ominously. She barely managed to **** the sharp cough down, backing off further. She felt her legs stiffen, hardly able to move. Now, she could only watch, hoping her signal would be heeded immediately.

Lucas exhaled deeply. He could feel the numerous sensations in his body and mind go rampant. The hasty beat of his heart, pumping searing-hot blood down his every vein. The voice in the back of his mind, agitated just like him at the mere thought of what would've happened to Nimue had he not been here. The warm sun and air of the corridor, crisp against his skin.

But beneath that, something more stirred. Within his abdomen, a burning sensation churned, exactly as it did when he overused Keen Senses, but rather than painful, it felt... empowering.

Nimue stared at the two, her expression a mix of terror and concern. She knew well that Lucas could not win. It was obvious; a Classed had a plethora of skills that Classless couldn't attain. The result was already set in stone.

But then, she noticed it.

It was brief, enough so to go unnoticed had she blinked, but unmistakable when observed.

A small lightning arced between Lucas's fingers.

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