After the desserts were cleared, the ever-hospitable Havinsson offered to show Raymond deeper into the castle. His father, the bedridden City Lord Anmissa, had expressed a desire to meet him.
Raymond accepted.
They walked through corridors lined with faded tapestries until they reached the old lord's chambers. The man lying in the bed was barely more than skin and bone. When he saw Raymond enter, he actually struggled to sit up, attempting to bow—a gesture of respect that cost him visible effort.
Raymond played his part. He hurried forward with a look of mild alarm, gently pressing the old man back against his pillows and urging him to rest, to focus on recovering.
Anmissa's body had failed him, but his eyes still held a spark. The physicians said he was surviving on pure stubbornness now—raw physical will keeping him tethered to life.
Despite the theatricality of the visit, the old man's regard for Raymond seemed genuine. Finding the young wizard approachable, he launched into an enthusiastic retelling of the Torrie family's glorious history.
Much of it Raymond had heard from Havinsson already. But two pieces of information stood out as genuinely useful.
First: the Black River Valley, about a hundred kilometers northeast of Kaiton, housed a traditional wizard academy. The Torrie family's founder had supposedly taught there, taken students, built connections.
Second—and more immediately valuable—Anmissa offered Raymond access to the Torrie family library. "Every true wizard is a scholar," the old man wheezed. "Knowledge is power. Please, make use of what little we have."
His body failing, his breath short, Anmissa still pushed forward with one final request. The Torrie family had dwindled. No enemies circled yet—but they would, eventually. He asked Raymond to become a friend to this ancient house. To offer help, when needed, to preserve what remained of their bloodline.
Havinsson, standing at the bedside, turned away. His shoulders shook.
Raymond found himself unexpectedly moved. This dying man, bargaining for his children's future, bargaining for blood he wouldn't live to see carry on. The raw desperation beneath the polished words...
He nodded. Just once. But it was enough.
Anmissa's weathered face relaxed. He ordered Havinsson to treat Raymond as family—to make Kaiton a second home for him.
When they left the sickroom, Havinsson's eyes were red. He asked what Raymond needed.
Raymond thought about it. He knew too little about this world. Rushing off to some wizard academy without understanding the basics seemed foolish. "I'd like to stay in the city for a while," he said. "Get my bearings. Would you know of any suitable lodging?"
Havinsson's face lit up. He summoned Haig immediately—Raymond's old acquaintance from the caravan—and instructed him to help find accommodations.
Clapping Raymond on the shoulder with genuine warmth, Havinsson laughed. "Master Raymond, fate has brought us together! Enjoy Kaiton. What's mine is yours."
His smile was bright. His eyes seemed honest. But the man radiated such polished charm, such practiced grace, that Raymond couldn't quite read him.
He made his polite farewells and climbed into the carriage Haig had prepared.
Kaiton spread before them as they rode. Wide streets. Relaxed pedestrians. The entire city seemed built of cut stone—clean, ordered, pleasant.
Haig drove himself, pointing out landmarks, explaining neighborhoods. The carriage was open-topped, giving Raymond an unobstructed view of everything.
Haig's manner had shifted too—more deference than ever. Whether because Raymond now had Havinsson's friendship, or because Havinsson had given orders, the effect was the same. By the time they reached their destination, Raymond was prepared for something nice.
He wasn't prepared for this.
A small castle of white stone, perched on a hill northeast of the city, half-hidden among trees. Square-towered, solid-looking, beautiful in the afternoon light.
Haig beamed with pride. From the terrace, he explained, you could see all of Kaiton—the Torrie family castle, the harbor, even the ships at anchor on clear days.
They climbed stone steps, hundreds of them, winding up through the trees. The castle was the Torrie family's summer retreat, Haig explained—far from the city's noise, used only in hot months. Havinsson had offered several properties—city mansions, country estates—but Haig had chosen to show this one first, thinking it suitable for a wizard.
If Raymond liked it, it was his.
At the top of the steps, a reception committee waited. A dozen people—six young maids, a nervous-looking steward, a sturdy middle-aged coachman, two burly guards-in-training, and three laborers. All bowed as Raymond approached.
He still couldn't quite read Havinsson's intentions. But the man's generosity was undeniable.
From the terrace, the view stunned. The chip enhanced it further—Raymond could pick out details of the Torrie castle they'd left behind, miles away.
He told Haig to convey his thanks. This castle fit him perfectly.
And Havinsson had even sent gold—hundreds of coins, for daily expenses. At this point, refusing felt churlish. Raymond accepted.
Once Haig departed, he summoned the steward.
The man was old, white-haired, dressed in clothes without a single wrinkle. He'd managed this castle for decades. Before Raymond, he seemed nervous—almost scared.
"Master Raymond," he said, bowing, "your chambers are prepared. How may I serve?"
Raymond followed him to a third-floor room, settled into a wicker chair, and asked for the castle's history.
The steward spoke carefully.
The castle was built over two hundred years ago by a Torrie ancestor—a woman named Hailimu, who had reached the level of second-level wizard apprentice. She'd spared no expense.
But none of her descendants had inherited her gift. So the castle had become what it was today: a summer retreat for children who would never learn its original purpose.
There were rumors, the steward admitted. Whispers that Hailimu hadn't truly died. But he'd worked here forty years, and in all that time, nothing strange had ever happened. Nothing at all.
He assured Raymond the castle was perfectly normal.