Carriages—more ornate than any Linnie had seen before—clattered down the cobbled street as Corvailles unfolded into a quiet and wide space that left the cramped markets and noisy piers behind.
Now, the air smelled less of fish and spices and more of expensive oils and wood.
Linnie didn't realize they had reached the expensive district of nobles until the first gargantuan estate came into view. And then another, and another.
Calling them 'houses' felt almost... disrespectful. 'Mansion' still didn't quite capture the grandiosity of it all, since even his hometown had a 'mansion' or two.
Some of these homes could only be described as palaces, just, ones that had enough modesty to pretend like they were otherwise.
Though, at the end of the grandiose lane, one such place didn't even have that sliver of modesty. It was a palace, through and through.
A sprawling complex of pale marble and emerald stone rose into the sky in layered terraces, shaped around the inner courtyard large enough to hold half of Linnie's entire hometown.
Tall, sweeping arches framed the windows, some of which made of stained glass so detailed that even from the outside he could make out the figures portrayed—scenes, whole mythologies that were lined in order of events, for all to see.
Water from the nearby canal was redirected through ornamental channels that flowed in thin streams along the outer walls, catching the sun and reflecting it with a gold hue.
Linnie stared up at the... house, his neck cracking.
He had never seen a building so incredibly beautiful. In fact, if you'd asked him before if a building could even be beautiful, he'd probably laugh in your face.
Beside him, Liora let out an impressed whistle.
"Is this seriously someone's house?" she asked in disbelief.
Even Lady, who had been drifting in and out of sleep in Linnie's arms, was impressed.
Alwyn strode forward, wearing a smug face as if this place was his own. It most certainly wasn't. Aliza, too, was clearly enjoying their reactions.
It seemed that it was neither of the two's first times seeing or even staying in such a place. Linnie, though, couldn't believe more than a few of these palaces could possibly exist in the world.
He wasn't far from the truth.
Two immense, dark iron gates stood before them, engraved with patterns of swirling waves, a recurring beautiful lady, and stylized ships, the emblem of Corvailles. Linnie was almost getting sick of how every inch of the city had some connection with the sea.
What was so special about it, anyway?
As they approached, Alwyn flashed some sort of identification. The guards promptly pulled open the barn-sized gates.
Linnie began to feel... small. Physically, yes, he was quite small—whether he'd accept it or not. But it was something else, something that he'd never admit to feeling.
The irresistible urge of the country bumpkin to shrink in the face of the palatial.
He'd much rather walk through as if he owned the place, lacking any tact and intruding on the peaceful environment. That's what he'd do in any other situation. But he felt a slight hesitation.
And so he behaved. For a moment, that is, until he saw Liora completely unrestrained, like an uncontrolled and excited dog.
"Hey! Wait up!"
The courtyard was paved with pale bricks that were arranged in flowing patterns like ripples on water. At the center stood a marble fountain that was taller than some houses, and sculpted into the form of a large and beautiful lady.
Her body rose from gushing jets of water that flowed and curled like stylized waves frozen in that moment.
Fine droplets of actual water were turned to mist in the air, almost like magic. Liora couldn't believe how the air itself was wet.
Servants lined the walkway. They reminded Linnie of the soldiers that visited his hometown for annual recruitment, but they weren't quite as rigid. Instead, they were smooth, clearly having practiced every movement, every bow, and every gesture.
Their clothes were very nice, though completely uniform. In that aspect, they were pretty similar to soldiers.
"Welcome to Corvailles, honored guests of His Grace, Duke Saivelle of Corvailles," one of them said, bowing deeply.
Linnie muttered, "What the hell does that mean?"
Alwyn sneakily slapped the back of his head as reprimand, causing the boy to curse under his breath.
They were led towards the main entrance—massive double doors that were made from dark, surely expensive, wood that contrasted with the bright exterior.
Carvings, of course, sprawled across their surface. Sea serpents and giant squid wrapped around ships as heroes stood at the bow, fending them off.
And at the top center of the scene was, of course, the same woman.
Linnie had no doubt that it was that deity, Saint Pischt.
As the doors parted, warm air spilled out. It was thick with the scent of candles, perfume, and something surely delicious that was baking. Inside, a vast, vaulted hall stretched on and on, only ending at an enormous staircase.
The hall's ceiling was painted with constellations in fresco or... gold? Solid gold, perhaps. It was hard to tell.
And hanging from the ceiling were chandeliers of which crystals swung gently from, catching sunlight from the windows and scattering the colors of the rainbow across the red-carpeted floor.
Alwyn poked the two children in the backs. They were both stunned, like anyone else would've been. Even Liora, who had lived most of her life in another duke's estate, hadn't seen anything on such a level.
And, this time, she was an 'honored guest,' rather than a slave.
As they stepped inside, the duke's personal steward approached—a tall and slender man with a dirty blonde slick-back. On his face was an expression of disapproval.
But he was only a steward.
"Esteemed Master Alwyn," he said with a soft bow. "His Grace awaits you in his personal office, immediately. We'll settle your apprentices, of course. And your woman, too. And your... animal. Rooms have been prepared. If anything is amiss..."
His gaze flicked briefly to Linnie, who, despite the wardrobe upgrade, still wore a face caked in dirt. And then to the cat in his arms, who stared right back at him.
Finally, to Liora, who was of a similar presentation to Linnie.
"...we will be sure to see to it."
Liora leaned in and whispered, "It feels like... he doesn't like us. Or is it just me?"
"We're peasants. Even though he's just a servant, he thinks he's better than us. But we're wizards, so we're way cooler," Linnie whispered back.
The steward blinked.
Linnie winced, hoping it was just coincidence, and that he didn't actually hear them. If he actually decided to throw them out, he wasn't going to let it go without making a big and rowdy scene, that was for sure.
The boy threw the most menacing glare he could muster to the steward. It didn't have much effect...
Alwyn waved, mouthing for them to behave, and followed the steward to meet with the duke.
They were guided deeper into the estate, through the long halls of polished stone and past enormous portraits. Statues of ancestors and heroes lined the walls, decorating the sides of each tall window that overlooked the private gardens.
Linnie looked up at Aliza, who, unbeknownst to him, had been forcing a smile, eye twitching and shaking with a suppressed rage the entire time since the steward referred to her as Alwyn's "woman."
'Bastard, I should rip his tongue out. Whose 'woman'!?' she thought to herself.