Relying on his strict training, Armand's body automatically moved to prepare for a rough landing. Unexpectedly, right before he hit the ground, a light feeling enveloped his body, and he landed gracefully on one knee.
"Welcome. That was quick."
He jerked his head towards the voice. It belonged to a beautiful young woman with moonlight hair, who was sipping tea leisurely while sitting on a stone chair in a beautifully manicured garden. Suddenly, all of his senses rushed back to him: the delicate smell of bamboo, the chilly night wind, the rustling sound of leaves and the trickle of water from the fountain.
Relieved, he noticed that Darryl was sitting opposite the young woman, shuffling awkwardly in his seat. He got up to his feet and observed his surroundings, but did not see any sign of Flint. His eyes narrowed.
"Relax," the young woman, clad in a light green dress that seemed too thin to wear in early spring, waved at him almost lazily. "That one is almost done, too. Although he seems to have destroyed part of the residence."
The moment she finished her sentence, a loud boom filled the air, startling Darryl. Armand quickly rested his hand on his sword, but relaxed when he saw Flint appear from the smoke, coughing.
"Damn all of these mages...!"
"There is no need to curse, Mr Flint Blackthorn."
Flint's eyes darted towards the owner of the voice, his posture tense. He looked around and relaxed a little bit, seeing Armand and Darryl in one piece. He shook the dust from his clothes; his shabby cloak was nowhere to be seen.
"Where are we? Who are you? And why do you know my name?"
The young woman placed the teacup carefully on the stone table. "What strange questions. Are you not here to see me?"
Now that he knew both of his companions were safe, Armand observed her and her surroundings more carefully. They were in a beautiful pebbled courtyard lined with bamboo groves. A serene pond located underneath a large cherry blossom tree reflected the ethereal moonlight, creating a sense of tranquillity. Behind the pond was a small L-shaped house with an elevated walkway and red shingled roof.
"Are you Mizan?" Armand spoke.
"Who else?"
Seeing Flint's grip tighten from the corner of his eye, Armand quickly performed a light bow as a greeting. "You might know this already, but I am a holy knight, Armand Fontaine. We are here to see Lady Mizan at the recommendation of Anya of Dohara. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Contrary to his expectation that she would ignore his greeting, the young lady referred to as Mizan gracefully stood up and returned it. "Pleased to meet you, Sir Fontaine."
She turned to Flint and also lightly bowed with her hand across her chest. "Apologies if I offended you, Mr Blackthorn. I haven't had any visitors in a while, so it seems my social skills are lacking."
"Ah...don't mind it." Receiving such a heartfelt apology from a young lady, Flint felt a bit embarrassed.
She nodded and headed towards the red-roofed building. "Follow me. You too, Darryl."
"Yes, Lady Mizan."
They entered through an intricately carved door made of sandalwood into a narrow corridor packed with shelves. On those shelves lay various items that at a glance looked like precious magical items and ancient artefacts, organised neatly but without much thought.
Even as a high-level holy knight who had seen the inside of the Treasure Room in the Temple, Armand was fascinated by the variety of items stored there. However, there was no time to look around as the woman led them into an open area with an impressive domed glass ceiling and an elevated stone platform. This, again, looked like a space manipulation magic, as no one would have guessed that such space could exist just by looking at the exterior.
She stepped into the centre of the platform, with the three people cautiously following behind. She turned to them, her hair looking almost shimmering from the moonlight.
"Welcome to Mizan, travellers, those who wish for their desires to be granted."