The carriage wheels ground to a halt on imported cobblestones that probably cost more than Astra's entire mercenary operation. Through the rain-streaked window, Lord Reid's estate sprawled before them—a monument to wealth so extreme it had stopped being impressive and crossed into the territory of strategic vulnerability.
Three-story main building with too many windows. Ornamental gardens providing excellent cover for approach. Walls designed for aesthetics rather than defense. Guest wings that created blind spots in the sightlines. The manicured hedges alone could hide a small army.
His first job. His first contract. His entire reputation riding on keeping one princess alive in a mansion that might as well have been designed by someone who'd never heard of the concept of security.
The carriage door opened, and Elena stepped out first, immediately raising a parasol against the building storm despite the fact that they were three steps from a covered entryway. Valkyrie followed, her hand never leaving her sword hilt as she scanned the grounds with professional paranoia that Astra found oddly comforting.
Princess Roxene emerged last, her traveling cloak settling around her shoulders with the kind of deliberate grace that suggested every movement had been calculated three steps in advance.
Lord Reid stood waiting at the entrance, flanked by two women whose armor probably cost more than most adventurers earned in a year. The bodyguards—Sou and Zora, according to the briefing—stood with the kind of perfect posture that screamed expensive training and carefully cultivated arrogance.
Reid himself was younger than Astra expected. Twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven, with the kind of handsome features that came from good breeding and better nutrition. His clothing was tailored to perfection, managing to suggest both wealth and tasteful restraint. When he smiled, it reached his eyes—which immediately made Astra more suspicious than if he'd been openly hostile.
"Princess Roxene." Reid's bow was precise, respectful without being subservient. "Welcome to my estate. I hope your journey was comfortable?"
"Quite comfortable, Lord Reid. Your hospitality is already evident."
"I'm honored by your presence." Reid straightened, gesturing toward the manor's entrance. "I've taken the liberty of preparing refreshments in my private study. Perhaps we could discuss the particulars of your stay in a more comfortable setting?"
"That would be lovely."
As Reid escorted Roxene toward the entrance, Sou stepped forward, her movements precise and deliberate. Her gaze swept over Astra, Elena, and Valkyrie with the kind of dismissive assessment usually reserved for furniture that didn't match the decor.
"Security briefing will be conducted in the east coordination room," she announced, her tone perfectly professional and utterly condescending. "Lord Reid's security infrastructure requires precise coordination with all protective personnel."
"Keep your focus on the floor, contractor," Zora added, her voice carrying that same edge of polite dismissal. "We manage the horizon."
Astra said nothing. His role here was clear—follow Reid's established security measures, stay low-key, and be ready if everything went to hell. These were Reid's people, Reid's territory, Reid's protocols. Fighting for dominance in someone else's security architecture was how clients got killed in the crossfire of professional ego.
He simply nodded. "Understood. Lead the way."
If Sou was surprised by his compliance, she didn't show it. She turned sharply and began walking, clearly expecting them to follow.
As they moved through the entrance hall—more imported marble, more expensive artwork, more windows that would need covering once darkness fell—Astra caught a glimpse of Roxene and Reid disappearing into what was presumably the private study. The door closed behind them with a soft, expensive click.
Elena and Valkyrie were escorted toward the guest quarters by a servant, leaving Astra to follow Sou and Zora deeper into the estate's security infrastructure.
The east coordination room turned out to be a converted study where maps of the estate had been laid out alongside duty rosters and patrol schedules. Two figures were already waiting—a tall woman with silver-streaked black hair and a massive man built like a siege engine.
S-ranks. Astra recognized the bearing immediately.
"Sera Nightwind," the woman introduced herself, her voice crisp and professional. "Wind specialist. This is Gareth Ironhold, earth specialist. We're Lord Reid's contracted security oversight for the duration of Princess Roxene's stay."
"Astra," he replied simply.
Sera's pale gray eyes studied him with the kind of professional assessment that took in everything and revealed nothing. "Former royal guard, according to the briefing.
"No offense intended, but Lord Reid's caution seems excessive for what should be a straightforward protection detail."
"None taken," Astra said evenly.
Gareth rumbled something that might have been agreement or skepticism. Hard to tell with someone who apparently communicated primarily through grunts.
Sou moved to the maps, her movements efficient and commanding. "Lord Reid has divided the estate into security zones. Primary perimeter, secondary gardens, tertiary building interior. Tonight's reception complicates coverage—approximately sixty guests, all vetted but none guaranteed." She tapped the ballroom location. "This represents our primary vulnerability."
"Crowd control during social events always does," Sera observed. "What's our response protocol for threats?"
"Tiered response," Zora answered, taking up position beside Sou. "Primary protective detail maintains close proximity to principals. Secondary oversight—" she nodded toward Sera and Gareth, "—maintains situational awareness and intercepts external threats. Tertiary response consists of estate guards managing evacuation and perimeter security."
"And me?" Astra asked quietly.
Sou's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in her eyes. "You maintain position near Princess Roxene during public events. Close-in protection only. Lord Reid's infrastructure handles everything else."
Translation: Stay out of the way and let the real professionals handle security.
Astra nodded again. "Understood."
Sera's eyes narrowed slightly, studying him with renewed interest. Most contractors would have bristled at that kind of dismissal, would have argued about their role or pushed for greater authority. Astra's immediate compliance suggested either professional discipline or complete lack of confidence.
She suspected it was the former.
"The evening reception begins in five hours," Sou continued, her finger tracing movement patterns on the map. "Guest arrival through the main entrance, circulation through the ballroom and adjoining galleries, refreshments accessible via the west corridor. Sera and Gareth will maintain discrete surveillance from elevated positions here and here." She marked two locations. "Zora and I will manage entrance security and crowd flow."
"Sight lines?" Gareth asked, his first actual words since the briefing began.
"Adequate from the balcony positions," Zora confirmed. "We've arranged for additional lighting that won't interfere with the reception's ambiance but will maintain visibility for security purposes."
"Weather's turning bad," Sera observed. "Storm's going to create noise cover and reduce visibility through windows. That's a tactical concern."
"Noted," Sou acknowledged. "We've prepared emergency lighting systems in case of power disruption. Gas lamps as backup, strategically positioned throughout the ballroom."
They continued for another fifteen minutes, walking through contingency plans, communication protocols, emergency evacuation routes. The briefing was thorough, professional, and clearly designed by people who actually understood security work. Reid had spent serious money on both personnel and planning.
Astra absorbed the information silently, mapping the estate's layout in his mind, identifying the blind spots and vulnerabilities that even good planning couldn't entirely eliminate. He asked no questions, raised no objections, simply listened and learned.
His role was simple: be the failsafe. Let Reid's expensive infrastructure handle the primary security. Let the S-ranks manage threat detection. Let Sou and Zora coordinate response protocols.
And if everything went to hell despite all that careful planning, be ready to keep the princess alive through whatever came next.
"Your position during the reception," Sou said, finally addressing Astra directly again. "Column position, ballroom entrance. Clear sight line to Princess Roxene, immediate response distance, minimal visibility. You'll receive position updates via this." She handed him a small communication crystal. "Standard magical relay. Gareth handles the primary network."
Astra examined the crystal briefly, then tucked it into his jacket. "Understood."
"Try not to stain the carpet, if you please," Zora added, her smile sharp. "Lord Reid values his imports."
"I'll do my best," Astra replied, his tone flat and unreactive.
Sera watched this exchange with interest. Sou and Zora were testing him, pushing to see if he'd rise to the bait or defend his professional dignity. His refusal to engage suggested either remarkable patience or complete indifference to their opinions.
Again, she suspected the former.
"Questions?" Sou asked, her tone making it clear she expected none.
"No questions," Astra confirmed.
"Then we're done here. Report to your assigned position ninety minutes before reception start time. Gareth will conduct a final communications check thirty minutes prior."
Astra nodded once and turned to leave. As he reached the door, Sera's voice stopped him.
"Astra."
He paused, glancing back.
"Former royal guard means you've seen real combat," she said, her expression unreadable. "Not the kind of polite sparring that happens at noble parties. The kind where people die messy."
"Yes," Astra agreed simply.
"Good." Sera's lips curved slightly. "Because if something does go wrong tonight, I'd rather have someone at the princess's side who knows the difference between a threat and a drunk noble stumbling in the wrong direction."
It was probably the closest thing to respect he'd get from the S-ranks. Astra accepted it with a slight nod and departed.
He passed servants carrying linens and decorations, musicians hauling instruments toward the ballroom, guards performing routine patrols. The estate was a machine designed for hospitality, now adapting itself for the additional burden of hosting royalty.
His assigned position—the guard station near Roxene's quarters—turned out to be a small alcove with clear sightlines down three corridors and direct visual access to the princess's suite. Comfortable chair, adequate lighting, escape routes in multiple directions.
Reid's people knew their business.
Gareth appeared like a mountain made flesh, his presence filling the corridor with quiet intimidation. He conducted the communications check with minimal words—testing the crystal's connection, confirming protocols, verifying that Astra understood the alert signals.
"Storm's getting worse," Gareth rumbled. "Visibility's going to be shit."
"Noted," Astra replied.
Gareth studied him with those dark, expressionless eyes. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone who'd fight harder for status." Gareth's voice was like gravel in a cement mixer. "Most contractors would have demanded primary response authority or at least argued about positioning."
"Most contractors haven't learned that ego kills clients," Astra said quietly.
Something that might have been approval flickered across Gareth's face. He nodded once and departed, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The door to Reid's suite opened and Roxene emerged.
She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded once. "I'll be resting until the reception. No disturbances unless necessary."
"Understood, Your Highness."
The door closed, leaving Astra alone in the corridor with his thoughts and his vigilance. Five hours until the reception began. Five hours of waiting, watching, and preparing for whatever might come.
Around him, the estate continued its preparations. Servants passed with linens and decorations, their movements efficient and practiced. Musicians arrived, hauling instruments toward the ballroom. Guards performed their rotations with mechanical precision.
Astra remained still, his water-sense extending through the humid air, tracking movement patterns and identifying anything that felt wrong. The storm outside grew worse, rain hammering against distant windows with increasing violence.
Two hours passed in professional silence. Then the door to Roxene's suite opened, and Elena emerged.
"The princess requests your presence, Master Astra," she said quietly. "She's just finished bathing and wishes to discuss... preparations for the evening."
Astra straightened, his professional instincts immediately alert. A private conversation request wasn't unusual, but the timing suggested something more than simple security coordination.
"Of course."
He followed Elena into the suite—a sprawling set of rooms that managed to be both opulent and functional. The sitting area featured comfortable furniture arranged for conversation rather than display, and tall windows offered views of the storm-wracked gardens below.
Roxene sat near the window, her damp hair falling loose around her shoulders, dressed in a simple robe. She'd discarded the aristocratic mask for the moment, her expression thoughtful and unguarded.
"Thank you, Elena. Please ensure we're not disturbed."
Elena bowed and departed, closing the door with a soft click.
Roxene gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit, Astra. We need to talk, and I prefer to do so without the usual formalities."
Astra sat, his bandaged hand resting on the arm of the chair. "Your Highness?"
Roxene's eyes softened as she studied the man across from her. Thunder rolled in the distance, the room growing dim with the storm's approach. "Astra," she began, voice quiet but curious, "before you took this job, what kinds of work did you do? You move with the ease of someone who's seen more than the typical mercenary."
Astra inclined his head slightly, the glow from the window catching the edge of his bandaged hand. "I mostly worked in voluntary roles," he said carefully. "Evacuating people from dangerous zones, helping refugees navigate hostile territories. These weren't easy tasks—crossing unstable borders, avoiding armed groups, guiding families through hazards most wouldn't dare."
Roxene's brow furrowed, impressed despite herself. "That sounds perilous. Was it dangerous?"
He didn't flinch. "Very. Every trip carried risks—harsh environments, disease, hostile forces. And sometimes, I'd take on short-term jobs in the Dark Continent, places so volatile even the usual rules don't apply. It involved smuggling vital supplies, escorting scholars through cursed forests, or even tracking down lost artifacts."
She leaned forward, intrigued by the rare flicker of passion in his tone. "Why volunteer for so much danger without guaranteed reward?"
Astra's gaze met hers steady and unyielding. "Because some lives are worth that risk. When governments collapse or wars erupt, someone needs to be there for the vulnerable. It's not about payment. It's about making sure people have a chance to live another day."
Roxene nodded slowly, a faint smile touching her lips. "I understand now. Your presence here means more than protection—it's a shield for hope."
Astra gave a small, respectful nod. "That's the only reason anything worth doing exists."
Roxene's eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the smooth, faintly glowing stone Astra had laid on the table between them. "This neutral stone," she began, curiosity evident in her voice, "where did you get it? Is it from a mine deposit you control?"
Astra shook his head, an almost imperceptible smile crossing his lips. "No, this one's payment from a one-off job. A group of people owed me for services rendered. It wasn't mined or extracted from a deposit—more of an exchange for... specialized work."
Roxene's surprise flickered for a moment. "So, it's not from your own funding or mining operation?"
"Correct," Astra replied evenly. "Not a deposit. Just a rare reward from a difficult task. Stones like these don't always come from controlled mines—in fact, some of the most potent ones are earned in the field."
Roxene leaned back, processing the revelation silently. The stone's quiet radiance seemed to hold more mystery than she had first assumed.
Elena knocked softly at the door. "Your Highness? Shall I help you dress for the reception?"
"Yes, thank you Elena." Roxene's aristocratic mask settled back into place, the vulnerable woman disappearing behind practiced composure. "Master Astra, please resume your position. I'll see you in the ballroom."
Astra bowed formally and departed, returning to his post in the corridor outside. The door closed behind him, and the estate's sounds resumed—preparation continuing, the storm building, three hours remaining until the evening's reception.
He settled back into the chair, his mind turning over everything Roxene had said. She'd given him permission—no, explicit instruction—to stop her if she lost control. That level of trust from someone with her power was either remarkably brave or desperately reckless.
Probably both.
The remaining three hours passed slowly, measured by the storm's increasing violence and the estate's building energy. Servants rushed past with final preparations. Musicians began warming up in the ballroom. Guards performed last-minute security checks.
And Astra waited, his water-sense extending through the humid air, his mind preparing for the evening ahead.
His first job. His entire reputation.
And now, potentially, the responsibility for stopping a dark magic user if she lost control in a crowded ballroom.
The pressure building outside seemed almost gentle compared to the weight settling onto his shoulders.
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