When High Mage Alias arrived, I could practically see the steam coming off his head. His usual composed demeanor was gone, replaced with that rare, flustered look that made me almost… sympathetic. Almost. The shock on his face when he realized I already knew the location of the missing people was priceless. He stuttered, faltered, and finally suggested—like a man trying to save his dignity—that we handle this in a "political" way.
His words came out all lofty and noble, something about showing the greatness of the Mage Tower to the houses once more, not as a political ploy, but to reaffirm its superiority. Yeah, right. Because nothing says "greatness" like playing a twisted game of magical one-upmanship with people's lives on the line. But I wasn't going to complain; boredom had been gnawing at me like a persistent rat ever since I set foot in Maden. Rich? Sure. Massive? Absolutely. But dull? Soul-crushingly. My mind wandered straight to Agro and the life I actually wanted.
